Mark and I were driving when I cheerfully announced that I am in my second trimester followed by, "1/3 of the way there!" After a few seconds our eyes widened and our jaws dropped as we realized the reality of the statement I had just made. It doesn't seem like I've been pregnant long at all, especially when you look at the list of things to do to get ready and I haven't accomplished one thing. I've wasted 1/3 of the time I could be preparing complaining about the smell of food and eating more toast than I ever thought possible. I have books to read, classes to take, money to save, an eternal list of baby things to buy, a room to get ready, car seats to research, and I'd like to do pregnant yoga at least once. I can only accomplish half of that list without knowing if I'm having a boy or girl which we will find out at the end of March. There are many things I tell myself I will get done this summer when I'm not working. In reality I will be laying in front of a giant fan wearing ice packs and my moo moo eating nothing but popsicles, ice cream, and Sonic ice aaaaaalllllllllllllllllllll summer long.
Since it's nearing Valentines Day and our fourth anniversary, let me take a moment to be gushy and mushy. I have the best husband-to-a-pregnant-girl I could imagine. I have an amazing husband all the time, but especially when I'm pregnant. He doesn't complain that even though I'm home three hours before him I haven't even come close to cooking dinner since December. He's always willing to do the dishes even when it's my turn because the smell of them makes me wish I was dead. It's ok if I go to bed at 8:30 and still wake up too tired to help take care of the dogs or even do my own hair. I could go on forever, but basically when I stop helping with anything and everything Mark takes care of all of it. I want to get him something nice. Oh I know, maybe a baby. But seriously, something fun before then too.
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