You see that? – The pudge under my shirt that is not longer just my stomach, but an overextended uterus with a mini karate-choppin child in it? Right, that’s my belly shot for this week.

It’s not that I don’t enjoy showing off random body parts for you all, it’s just that the scraggly old man at the corner with the cardboard sign looked at me all funny when I told him I’d pay him with a burrito if he’d take a picture of my belly. How was I supposed to know it was a priest on his off day, just taking out the trash?

Plus, let’s go ahead and throw in that there’s some general confusion in these parts as to where exactly the baby is, especially after Lorelei grabbed my boob and exclaimed “baby!” So, am I supposed to be taking belly shots now – or boob shots? I’m not really sure, anymore…

I’m now gaining weight, which probably has absolutely nothing to do with completely balanced meals I’ve been eating – like, peanut butter fudge (for protein), white enriched pasta (grains?), cheese pizza (vegetable, grains, fruits, AND calcium). Oh, and the Eggo waffles I just slammed down. Really, I’m pretty sure it’s the scales and the fact that they try to weigh me every time I have to pee – I weigh a totally different number every time I bounce. It’s amazing, you should try it.

I’m doing exceedingly well with not ripping anyone’s head off, I think. Especially considering the asshats that have made comments regarding my sometimes-less-than-cheery blog posts as being hormonal-inspired. Obviously not. If it were hormonal inspired, I’d be threatening death to the person who let something like my empty wallet get in the way of giving me that last damn donut in the coffee shop. You know, important stuff like that. So, unfortunately this pregnancy hasn’t rid me of normal human emotions (yet, anyways) and I still experience insane giddiness and even sadness like the rest of you mad folk.

Oh! Wait! The morning sickness stuff is pretty much gone, as long as I grab something to eat when I get up. No more Zofran! I’ve been a little preoccupied so I almost missed that grand little nugget. Occasionally, my entire tummy just jolts here and there…especially after I eat an entire bag of …oh, say Oreos. Of course, I’d never do that…pshaw. I don’t even like Oreos THAT much. Red’s donuts though? Sure. Little Aurora likes donuts too…she gets super worked up for them.

Do I mention that my bladder is almost like a 70 year old’s now? I’m fairly sure I could still hold a contest with my Grams and win, but the sudden moments where I realize I HAVE TO PEE NOW, DAMMIT are a bit of a pain in the rear when you’re in an area with either no bathroom, or a bathroom that much resembles what you’d imagine the lavatories in a run-down whore house to look like. Or, maybe you just rocked the sick toddler to sleep and now she’s sleeping comfortably on you…you almost wish you’d thought to cover the couch in plastic just so you wouldn’t have to move. Almost. But not.

Luckily, I’m no longer going to pee 80 times a night – although I know that’ll be back soon enough as the baby grows. Right now, I can hold it for an entire night, even though by 6 AM things get a bit uncomfortable, but I’d rather pee in the coffee cup and throw it out the window then wake up Lorelei who’s less than three feet from my bed in her own crib. There’s just some things you don’t mess with, a sick toddler being one of them.

Come back next week for the next installment – although I can’t promise to talk about urine and donuts in the same post.  But, we’ll see…

Welcome back!