Sitting down to write this and all I want to write about is how frustrated I am that I'm 24 weeks along and today I had to change my clothes 4 times because of puking incidents. (Not that I puked on myself 4 times, I have actually gotten quite good at waiting until I can open the car door or make it to the toilet. Apparently after pushing something the size of a small melon, certain types of tissue don't bounce back- blame it on relaxin hormone). The other day Laura told us about how she had to draw a picture of her family and assign them symbols that would represent that person to her. For example, Charlie was represented by a cookie, my Dad was some sort of tool, Adam was a boat. Adam asked if she had represented me with a toilet... she hadn't but it shows where I've been spending most of my time lately.
But I don't want to be a depressing blogger and go on and on about how I can't sleep and can't exercise or even walk very well because of this pain or that pain. I tried looking up pregnancy blogs to get an idea of how I can post positively but couldn't really find anything helpful. I feel like I can't complain or at least I shouldn't because I am incredibly blessed. I am not dealing with a terminal illness, pregnancy is temporary. But most importantly, this pregnancy will result in a joyful addition to our family and there are many who would give anything for the opportunity to feel as crappy as me- but can't. I don't feel like there's anyone I can talk to about this because of the above reasons- I don't want to feel shallow or ungrateful.
So I guess I'll talk about the kids. Jack and Charlie are doing well and being very cute. Charlie has more energy than anyone I know and he has decided he never wants to sleep. He feels things deeply. When I pick him up after work his face goes through a range of 6 emotions from surprised to elated and yells, "Momma! My Momma!" and runs up to me and hugs me. When he's happy, he's SO HAPPY and when he's sad, he's SO SAD. Im hoping we don't get reported to the CPS because just since Monday when Charlie did a superman 1 1/2 off my bad and landed on his face to this morning when he was trying to pour his own cereal and slipped off the kitchen table and hit the bench with the back of his head, he has more bumps and bruises than I can count. What can I say, he is 100% 2 year old.
Jack is getting to be a great artist and his fine motor skills are improving and he is showing more and more interest in his letters. I am so glad we held him back from starting kindergarten this year because he will be so much happier at the head of his class than at the tale end. He's loving and snuggly and willing to help. In primary he sings all the songs with gusto and answers every question whether he knows the answer or not. He is a cute lovabug jackson (he just typed that which shows his new interest in letters and how words are put together). He is sweet and lifts my heart.
They are the reason I can look for the light at the end of my tunnel and although most days I want to crawl in bed and hide as soon as I get home from work, sometimes I do but most of the time I push myself to get up and get them fed and try and be a mom until I crash with them at 8 or 9. Here's to hoping I get more energy soon and can be less pathetic in the future.
Our boys LOVE to take baths. I think they think they are in a mini swimming pool. We never have fights over whose turn it is for a bath. On the contrary, if a person wants to take a bath or shower by themselves, chances are good that they will get a shower buddy who strips and hops in. Grandma sent us paint for Christmas and of course it turned into war paint- the boys have been loving being bathtub warriors.
except Charlie who always feels picked on if he doen't get the color that he wants. Jack drew hyroglifics on the wall- "Indian paintings" as he calls them.
