Oh, Just Some News.

I guess now is as good a time as ever to share a piece of news on the internet.  I'm just 25 weeks pregnant and will be calving out a critter at the end of June.  

As I sit here typing, my stomach is doing the freakiest things ever.  But it's actually pretty cool.  I like to think that my gut is a pretty wicked dance party and there's this strobe light and little person inside just groovin.

I've barfed lots.  Once I ate a bunch of raspberries and then barfed.  I told Jon to come look at the jam I just made.  He thought I had become all domestic until he saw that it was in an ice cream bucket.

I've started wearing what Mr. Nacho Libre terms as "stretchy pants."  I'll admit, the huge stretchy band is pretty ugly.  But they're so comfortable that it makes me wonder why we all don't just wear these magnificent trousers all the time.

For a while, I craved steak and potatoes.  Jon was in heaven.  Nowadays however, eating is a chore and nothing sounds good.  But not eating isn't really an option.  So I eat what I can and last week it was a fat reuben sandwich.  Judge me all you want, it was delicious.

Jon and I found out what we're having.  I cried when I found out.  Heck, I cried for a week I was so disappointed.  But I'm pretty much over it now and excited regardless.  I'll blog about that another time.

I don't know how much weight I've gained.  I don't have a scale and I don't want to know.

I haven't taken a single pregnant lady side pose picture.  To be honest, I don't really plan on it either.  It's just not for me.  But here's a picture of me holding a baby.  They used to really scare me, so I was being teased and taunted while holding my cousin's baby Kwyncee, hence the stellar face.

When it comes to planning for the actual birth, Jon and I got into one of the most epic fights of our entire marriage.  I legit wish I could find a nice soft spot in a row of corn and get it over with by myself.  He most vehemently refused.  So we compromised by agreeing I'd have it in a hospital but he has to tell everyone to leave me alone.  I think I'll end up having the kid in Raymond.  We'll see.

As you can probably tell, I'm not the most kosher pregnant lady type.  But when have I ever really been normal?  I promise I'm going to love this kid and be the best mom that I can.  So bring on the next 15 weeks.