Saturday. Donut morning. Mia, sleepover, here, last night. Up ’til 12, awake at 6. “The Parent Trap” on repeat. Giggling fits, constant. Merrick, glamorous in violet eye shadow. My closet, invaded. Stuff I didn’t even know I had, everywhere. Tired.
But I do love donuts.
Caleb went on a men’s retreat with our church last night, to the mountains. I really look foward to him coming back tonight, mainly because he’s always flying high after these things. I love listening to him gush about what a great time he had and what all he learned, who he talked to. It just makes him even more cuter than he already is, and that mess is just ridiculous.
Today is grocery day and library day and also find-some-more-comfortable-pants day for me. 10 weeks and I feel like I’m busting at the seams already. Even my stretchy running pants are getting tight. When I was pregnant with Mia, Cheyenne asked if I was having a baby in my butt. This time…the baby has shifted to my thighs, probably to get away from all the food I’ve been shoving at it.
I’m 2 weeks out from entering my second trimester and I’m really counting on my morning sickness and fatigue tapering off in a major way by then. I can hardly function. I have zero energy and a nausea that can only be temporarily quelled with chocolate and Mexican food. If I don’t start to feel normal again soon, I’ll weigh 800 pounds by September. The baby will choke upon entering our house, on account of all the dirt and dog hair that will have accumulated by that point because I’ll have been too tired to clean even once.
I’m going to have to learn to make those soft chicken tacos on my own so we don’t go broke, and also so I can have them at 8:30 a.m. when I want them, instead of waiting til the place opens at lunch.