Baby is:

• 29 weeks: the size of an acorn squash, butternut squash, or some other form of squash depending on the book.
• Making some moves that make me seriously wondering what he’s up to in there.  Also, ouch.  Those bones are developed.

I am:

• Large and in charge.  I’ve relocated my scale to the trash can, so I can only assume that I’m still gaining weight at an embarrassingly fast rate.
• Missing my feet.  I assume that they are still there, though I haven’t been able to see them in weeks.  I wonder if I can convince Angel to paint my toes for me?

Oh, the memories:

• Acid reflux is now just that: a memory.  I asked the doctor what I can take and when she recommended some over the counter remedies I told her how excited I was and how bad I had been having it.  She then responded with “Never mind, that’s not going to help you if it’s that bad.  I’ll write you a prescription.”  It’s life changing.  It tasted like Mexican food and sleep and that’s exactly how I celebrated.

Surprising:

• My wedding rings still fit.  I’m pretty sure those were locked up at week 27 with Lucas if my pregnancy brain reminds me correctly.

I’ve missed week 28 and nearly missed week 29 as well.  This pregnancy is just flying by and I’m running out of time.  I’m taking naps nearly every day now and it’s really sucking up my time to continue unpacking and cleaning the baby stuff from the basement.  For a while there I was knocking items off of my list faster than I was adding them, but that is not the case any more.  Mom, want to come back?

Maybe I’m just feeling like I have no energy because Angel and I have declared war on our 2 year old and his eating habits.  All I have the energy to write on the matter is that we have a very stubborn little boy, who Angel says is “exactly like his mom.”  In response to that, I threw myself on the floor, screamed, and then stormed out of the room with a pouty lip.  My son is so not like me, I have no idea where he gets it.

That’s all I’m going to write today because there is some pineapple in my freezer that is calling my name to be made into a smoothie.  Mmmmm, pineapple.

Baby is:

• 25 weeks and about the size of an eggplant.  The vegetable is disgusting.
• Not disgusting
• Well, maybe a little bit.  He’s drinking in amniotic fluid, peeing it out, and then drinking it back in.  He’s also breathing it in.  I’m not sure how nature planned that one to work out, but good for nature for not killing us all.

I am:

• Tired. Last night my uterus hosted an after hours dance party from 4-8am.  It was all fun and games until the club owner got mad, but lack of sleep will do that to a hormonal Mom in the middle of the night.  So don’t poke the bear today.
• Otherwise feeling pretty great.  I grunt when I try to get off of the floor or out of bed, but I’m still able to do them on my own and that’s the important part.

Oh, the memories:

• My wedding ring didn’t fit today.
• In the middle of the dance party, the DJ had a slight pause to pop more Tums.  Who doesn’t enjoy the chalky taste of Tums in the middle of the night?  This girl.

What the hell:

• My son better be born with flowing locks like Fabio.  I just finished off my big bottle of Tums and found it more cost effective to purchase a pallet from Costco.  Michigan’s supply of Tums is now being stored in my bathroom cabinet until on or before July 29th.

My Mom comes tomorrow and my need to nest is greater than my need to make sure she enjoys her trip.  I’ve planned her to do list practically down to the minute and then accomplished most of it myself.  She’s dangerously close to losing her mattress to the house 2 year old, who is dangerously close to losing his mattress to the baby who is in my belly not sleeping.  Angel convinced me to wait to assemble the crib and start setting up the room until after she leaves so if you’re reading this Mom: you can thank him for not sleeping on a futon this weekend, but I can’t promise that you won’t be sleeping on one by the end of the weekend.

Must.  Nest.  Now.  My house has been cleaned and the laundry has been washed and put away and I feel like I’m living in a dirt pile of laundry and housework.  The stress of it makes me want to vomit into my Pinterest-worthy nursery crafts.

I have 14 weeks left, which is 3 months.  ONLY 3 MONTHS.  I’m 6 months into growing a tiny human (who still doesn’t have a name, room, or understanding big brother).  I’m pretty sure that by this point with Lucas I was taking naps in the perfectly assembled nursery staring at piles of clean baby clothes.  Right now I’m just hoping that the baby stuff we do have hasn’t been lost to the mice in the basement last winter.  I wouldn’t know because I haven’t gone down to touch a single box, I’m just trusting that I washed it all appropriately and stored it in water-tight containers 6 inches off of the ground and away from the snow-melt flooded corner.  I know 90% of this to not be true.

I’ve kept up with the gym.  I go to water aerobics and yoga each once a week and then spend an hour walking around the track twice a week.  I feel like a super hero until I see my reflection in the glass and am reminded that I’m a pregnant super hero who is really tired and maybe wobbling a little bit.  I’m craving everything sugar and refuse to gain 600 pounds, let that be my motivation to get off of the couch and trade my toddler in for an hour of gym shoes.

I have a crazy busy day tomorrow that starts with the lovely glucose tolerance test but ends with picking up my Mama from the airport.  I think I have a yoga class, play date, and (hopefully) nap to fit into the middle somewhere.  But if my pregnancy brain serves me correctly, I felt like absolute poop following the epic sugar crash from my test with Lucas.  So chances are I’ll finish the test, vomit, feel like passing out, and then eventually settle for laying on the couch a little green around the gills having not accomplished a single thing.

I’ve eaten a box and a half of macaroni and cheese while I wrote this, and am going to spend the rest of my evening wondering why I thought that was a good idea.  Enjoy your evening, everyone!

Baby is:

• 24 weeks and about the size of a cantaloupe much like the one I cut up for fruit salad yesterday.  Yum
• Not being cut up for fruit salad.
• Can probably sense upside down and right side up now.  So I assume that means that he can also sense my ribs when he aims his kicks

I am:

• Feeling like a whale.  Second trimester bliss has come and gone- like a tiger flower only blooming for a day.
• Taking naps again.
• Have zero patience for living beings in this house.  My son, my husband, my dog, they’ve all been targets of my mood swings.  Poor babies.

Oh, the memories:

• Swelling fingers and my wedding ring not fitting again.  Some days are worse than others but I think we’re in the last week of not looking like a teen mom.
• I see food and I want it but then I take a bite and I’m all like “yeah, that was a bad idea” and spend the evening feeling nauseous.

What the hell:

• The desire to nest paired with the desire to not do anything.  The crib is still in boxes in the corner of the guest room and all of the baby stuff is still packed up in the basement.  Maybe it’s different this time because I know that I have everything so I don’t have the need to hunt and gather?  Whatever it is, the thought of the room and my to do list gives me anxiety so I want to nest but instead I’m just pretending like I’m not about to enter my third trimester with nothing ready.
• Poor second baby.

This week I’ve hit a major milestone in pregnancy: I’m 24 weeks.  Baby now has a shot in hell at survival should something happen and I have to deliver.  A baby at 24 weeks is nothing to write home about, but the thought that the odds only improve here makes me think that I should maybe get around to unpacking that crib and assemble it.  And by “me” I mean “Angel” (are you reading this?  I’m putting it on the blog so you HAVE to do it now).

Naming is so hard this time.  We used both boy names that we liked on Lucas and now there’s a lot of veto’s flying around.  At this rate, he will be born with no middle name and have to explain why for the rest of his life.

I still don’t think that Lucas understands that he’s going to be a big brother but I could be wrong.  Last night he was sitting next to me on the couch and pointed at his belly and said “baby brother.”  Swing and a miss.  I took out the infant car seat so that I could sew a blanket cover for it and Lucas is suddenly very concerned about the car seat situation.  He likes to go in the guest room where it is and tell me that “Lucas fix the car seat.” It’s nice of him to fix the car seat for me, though we aren’t sure what needed fixing.  I try to tell him that it’s for his brother and he tells me that his car seat is in the silver car.  So maybe he is understanding that there’s a baby coming?  But either way, there’s no way he knows what’s about to happen to his world when he has to share mom.  He’s a huuuuuugggeee Mama’s boy right now.  Dad isn’t even allowed to give him hugs or pick him up.  Soak it up kid, you’re not going to have a choice in a few short weeks.

I went to the doctor this week and was told I’ve only gained 14 pounds so far.  She seemed really pleased with that and told me that I could keep doing what I’m doing.  I didn’t want to tell her that what I’ve been doing is eating skittles from Costco, ice cream cones by the box, and giving into every single pregnancy craving that I’ve had.  Lucas has really appreciated my pregnancy cravings because Mom always shares… Maybe that’s why he’s such a Mama’s boy right now?  My c section gets scheduled in a few weeks and that’s when I start going to the doctor every other week.  I CANNOT believe that I’m already at this point in the pregnancy.  I mean, I just announced that we’re expecting to the world and here I am telling you that I’m about to round third base.

In other related news, this is how I feel about pregnancy:

Poor second baby.  I call this post 22 weeks, but I’m nearly a week late.  Let’s use our imagination, shall we?

Baby is:

• 22 weeks.  Websites vary on the estimated size of the 3rd boy in my life (!!) so I listed them in the photo and then took some liberties with the estimations myself.  Doesn’t a foot long sub sound like something that I need to shove in my face the second I’m done posting this?  I honestly think so, too.
• Kicking.  He’s made the transitions through “I can’t wait for the baby to kick.” to “Ooo, how cool is this?!” to “Please stop kicking me in the ribs.”
• Getting taste buds and nerve endings.  I suppose those are important senses.

I am:

• A whale.  I’m pretty sure that my pants stopped fitting roughly 20 minutes after I peed on that damn test.  They say that you show faster the second time and I’m here to tell you that that is, in fact, true.  It’s like this ball of cells started to split and my body was all like “HELL YEAH!! I remember this!!” and instantly took on the figure of my 9 month pregnant self.  I may be exaggerating,  but the feeling is real.

Oh, the memories:

• Pregnancy insomnia.  I thought I was lucking out with this one and still able to sleep through most nights without bathroom breaks.  But last night I woke up at 2am and have been awake ever since.  I’m so tired.
• Awesome finger nails.  I bit them all off out of boredom this morning while watching infomercials, but you’re going to have to trust me that they were there until then.
• The need to nest.  We’ve already ordered the crib and dresser and I’m making Angel drive a Uhaul to Grand Rapids tomorrow to pick it up because OHMYGOD if I don’t have a crib set up immediately than it will never get done.  I think Angel appreciates this phase of pregnancy the best because his To Do list blows up and my nagging is on threat level extreme.  He’s so lucky to have me.

What the hell:

• Acid reflux.  I remember it very clearly, but not until third trimester and I’m still a few weeks away from there and I’m already through my first bottle of Tums.  Insider trading tip: invest in Tums.  I know what’s coming.
• I itch.  Like crazy.  I’m a walking ball of oily hormones and I want to scratch my skin off.
• Cravings.  If it’s sugar, I want it.  Last month I came home from Costco with a box of 36 bags of skittles, at which point Angel deemed me unfit to go to Costco unsupervised.

I suppose this is the best time to tell you how this  little adventure began.  We were in San Diego for my best friend’s wedding and I suspected that my alcohol consumption was about to be hindered so I took a pregnancy test before heading to the rehearsal but then totally forgot about it (poor second baby.  I forgot about him before I knew about him).  So when I came back later to see a faint second line, I was the person who wasn’t sure if it was real or because it had been sitting there all morning.  To eliminate the confusion we stopped at the store on our way to the venue for digital tests.  I had just chugged a bunch of water since I was running around so it came back “-NO” and I cautiously enjoyed adult beverages for the weekend.  The morning after the wedding Lucas woke me up on east coast time so while I was half asleep watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and packing to drive up to Disneyland I took the second digital test and did a double take when it said “+YES”.  So I woke up Angel with my pee (true love), and he looked at Lucas and said “You have 9 months to get out of diapers.” and now here we are, 22 weeks into it.

Keeping pregnancy a secret through first trimester is like trying to function normally with the flu that you can’t tell anyone you have. Pair that with holiday parties and I looked like a total alcoholic to my friends here.  I kept saying that I wasn’t drinking because I was so hung over from the night before which explained the look on my face, running to the bathroom, and volunteering to be DD.  No friends, I wasn’t really hung over every day of December.  That would have been more fun.

Hormones, y’all.  When they woke me up at 2am to go to the bathroom and then watch infomercials, around 4am I found myself crying into a jar of pickles.

Over watching Toy Story.

I’m so pregnant.