If Found, Please Return

I have lost myself. I don't know where I left me. I don't know when I saw me last. I don't know who I was last with. If found, please return me to me...

What Not To Say To The Woman Carrying Your Child.

I have been keeping an ongoing list of things Marcus has said or done to me over the past couple of months that refers to me getting more and more pregnant.*** There have been so many that I am losing track and have to write these down before I forget them.

I think my face is getting fat.
No, your face and chins look fine to me.

You know your butt is just going to get wider, right?

Walking past me in the closet: You have really let yourself go.

Did the kids get any of the after school snacks we bought?

After eating in a restaurant (a very nice, expensive restaurant where I ate A LOT): You are trying to tell me that's all baby?

And my all time favorite--
So I stepped on the scale this morning...
Did it scream?!

***Marcus did not mean a single word of anything he said. I actually laughed at every one of those after he said them. The scale one left me speechless for a minute, but then I thought it was hilarious. He has been very supportive and great during the past seven months. We have the kind of relationship where we can give each other never ending crap and be okay with it. Lucky for Marcus, I haven't yet turned into an emotional, hormonal, basket case that I could be, and I haven't taken anything he has said seriously. He even sat there for an hour while I showed him all the baby clothes that came with me from Virginia and pretended to be interested. I know that I am the only one that can talk about Baby G 24 hours a day and not get bored or annoyed. So there are times that I feel like I am going through a lot of this alone, but that is just me; there are plenty of people who I could talk to but I choose not to. As the days seem to be going by faster and faster, Baby G will be here before we know it and I know before I am ready. (Is anyone ever completely ready for this kind of life changing event?) I am going to start to write down all the loving things my wonderful husband says so I can be sure to quote him correctly next time. (I can guarantee there will be "What Not To Say To The Woman Carrying Your Child Part 2" before June.)

Introducing Baby G

Melt Down Over Play Dough? Seriously?!

I can not deal with the emotional outbursts of a 10 year old. Call it hormones, call it moodiness, call it whatever you want. Mom, if I was ever this bad at this age--I am SOOOO sorry. Holy moly. I know all children need a way to express anger, frustration, and not getting their way, but how do you help teach them the right way vs the way that ends up with them slamming their door at least once a night? Jessi and I are more friends then child/parental figure, which makes it even worse when I am the one that has to deal with a lot of the drama when she is at our house. And the fact that I am so exhausted and have no patience after a day dealing with Christian's outbursts doesn't really help. I don't think just blaming the fact that kids (girls, especially) get this way at this age is appropriate. I am just beginning to teach Christian how to deal with disappointment and he is two. It seems that there are two stages in life when you have to teach this lesson. I don't know if it's the instability of the two houses, the fact that she hasn't been going to sleep until later than she should, or just a "phase", but goodness child...CHILL THE FREAK OUT!!! Okay, enough ranting. When Jessi does get upset, it doesn't last very long. (Thank goodness.) I guess this is just another bump in the road we all have to deal with. I need to find myself a good shrink. Know of anyone???

89 Days

89 days to go. 89 days until my world is turned upside down. 89 days to get everything ready. 89 days to finish projects that if I don't get done before 89 days are over, will never get done. 89 days to continue to stress out and freak out about the thought of actually giving birth. 89 days until I meet my little girl. 89 days until I become a mommy again. 89 more days of hoping and praying everything turns out all right. 89 more days of breakfast in bed. 89 days of rotating four pairs of pants because I am too cheap to buy more. 89 days of craving raw potatoes and Lime Rickeys. Have I mentioned I only have 89 more days until Baby G is born? (I stole that name from my sister. It's cuter then hey you.) 89 days....assuming I don't pull a Kim/Madeleine and Baby G is born early; 89 days to worry about that.....

Where is Mary Poppins When You Need Her?

I leave for Virginia tomorrow afternoon. I am viewing it as my last "me time" before life gets even crazier. I'll get to spend time with my sister, her adorable baby and her WONDERFUL husband. We'll do lots of baby shopping and just hanging out. I am looking very forward to a break from reality. But, unlike everything else the past few months, I am running into problems. Can nothing be simple anymore? We have found coverage for Christian for the whole time that I am gone except for four hours Monday morning. I trust very few people to watch Christian and of those few, no one is available. I worry that Marcus and I are too paranoid and need to relax a little bit. Then I watch Christian run around the house like a madman and know that I have to picky about who watches him. There are plenty of people that I am sure would love to watch him, but I just don't feel comfortable leaving him with. Where is Mary Poppins when you need her? So maybe instead of complaining about not knowing where he is going to go, I should maybe be making phone calls, ya think?!