Not to Get My Hopes Up….

I may possibly be feeling slightly better. The last few days I have felt less like the slug from planet Slugonia and mildly more human-ish. Hurray! I did throw up first thing this morning, but that was from brushing my teeth (very common in pregnant women; toothbrush hits the back of your mouth and that’s it).

On the other hand, two weeks ago I felt a little better for a few days in a row, got all excited, and then BAM! last week I felt terrible again for the entire week. It was sooooo depressing, so I’m trying not to get too excited about this. From my past history, this is a bit early for me to start feeling better. George is home tomorrow and the rest of the week, so tonight I’m going to go off my home-brew nausea meds. That will give me a definitive answer.

When I was pregnant with Faith, the meds worked much better than they have this time around. I felt well enough that I quit taking them before the time when I’m usually done being sick just to see if I still needed them. Two days later I was in full yuck mode and promptly went back on the meds.

I’m starting to poof out more than a little bit in the stomachular area (no I’m not illiterate; I just made that up). My friends and family (the ones who have actually seen me) are now asking me regularly if I could be off on my due dates or if I could be carrying twins. I keep telling them that I tend to start showing about five minutes after conception usually (look! an egg and a sperm got together. Quick, quick, make room!!), which is a bit obnoxious particularly when our church is somehow full of tall women who don’t seem to show until they’re five or six months along. By that time I look like I may possibly be carrying some sort of small marine mammal or maybe a moose. Argh!

Anyway, now I’m all paranoid that I could be off on my dates or carrying twins. I mentioned this to my husband last night, who rolled his eyes and told me I look just the same to him as I usually do at this point and that I always ask this question. That made me feel better. That’s what I thought anyway, just had a small flip-out. I’m cool; I’m collected; I’m calm. As long as no one can laser into my brain and tell that I’m actually a spaz, life will be dandy (plus doesn’t laser + brain = lobotomy? That should probably be avoided if possible). Of course, printing that fact here is probably not the way to keep it a secret…. Just don’t tell, okay?

Hubby’s birthday was Saturday (he’s 36 now. Hahahahaha! I’m only 32. Neener neener neener.), and I felt bad that he’s been cooped up for six weeks with a crabby wife, so I used some of my emergency super-meds stash and we went out for a bit in the afternoon. We saw 3:10 to Yuma, which was excellent, and had dinner at Claim Jumper, which we’d never been to before. It was expensive, delicious, and the food was worth every penny (plus the servings were on the massive side, so hey ~ leftovers!). George got all kinds of neat camera stuff for his birthday and seemed generally pleased with how the day turned out.

I think that’s about it around here. The kids have been off at my friend Amy’s during the mornings four days a week (started last week and next week will be the last week), which has been a tremendous blessing. It’s a lot easier to sit on the couch and try not to barf when you don’t have five small howler monkeys screaming through the house shredding everything in sight.

School starts October 1st, and the older three will be out of the house for a bunch of the day then. The younger two are much quieter on their own. I’m sort of looking forward to hanging around with just those two. The older ones have so much more to do and say that they take up a lot of attention. The younger ones sort of bounce from room to room like trouble making pinballs, but both of them seem much less problem prone when the older kids aren’t around. I think they might like getting a bit more face time with Mom. Guess we’ll see how it goes.

Rachel