Large and not so in charge.

I've heard that you get bigger quicker with your second pregnancy. And that has been the norm for me this time around. I am now officially at the weight I was when I gave birth to Alex... and I have over 2 months to go. Instead of feeling incredibly self-conscience all the time, I've decided to look at this as something I can check off of my 'things to do before I die' list. #567-Get incredibly large. Check. To be honest, aside from none of my clothes fitting, I probably wouldn't have noticed (except, of course, at each doctor's appointment where I am forced to weigh in and endure the eyebrow raise from my teeny-tiny nurse). But then things like the 'breakfast incident of '09' happen. It's not every day where you walk into a restaurant, choose a large booth for your party of four to sit, allow you husband (who is not a small man), another pregnant woman and your child to take their seats before sitting yourself, only to find out that, oops, you don't fit in the booth. Oh dear Lord. We had to pack up and move to a table so I could pull my chair out the apparent 6 feet that I needed in order to include my belly in the breakfast. #568-Get so incredibly large that you no longer fit into restaurant booths. Check.

But, again, I am choosing not to fret about it. Mostly because, from what I hear, this is supposed to happen, and my doctor has assured me that I am actually only halfway to gaining to the average weight that accompanies growing a human. So, usually at this point, I would tell you that I am working on getting a proper 'second-time-around' belly shot up for you, but this will not be happening any time soon. My camera went to digital heaven, and finances are too tight to get anything good to replace it with. I don't want to get one that we would be able to afford because then I would be stuck with something I don't want for the next 5-6 years. So... I'm holding out... flashing my best puppy-dog eyes at my husband every now and again while hinting that being able to record this beautiful pregnancy and our child's second year of life would really be great. But then I get things like bills and checkbooks and maxed-out credit cards chucked at my head, and because, as I just noticed today, I've hit the 'waddle' stage of this pregnancy, I'm no longer able to outrun them, I'm forced to shut my mouth, er, eyes, and wait in silence until the next moment presents itself. [Although I am not really saying this, I think it would be funny if Paul recieved multiple letters in the mail urging him that the right thing to do is to go buy his fat wife a camera for... whatever holiday is next. Heck, it's mother's day in the UK today- and we lived there for a while. That will do.]

In other news, my (fully developed) child is a psycho. I feel like I have a two-year-old running around my house. She has full out tempertantrums now, and we've found out that she is definitely a foot-stomper. When I am mean and don't allow her to do things like play with the garbage can or drown herself in the toilet, she will take a step back, inhale, and let this loud scream rip, stomping her feet and balling her little fists. Honestly, I think it's kind of cute. Which, I am pretty sure, ticks her off. I just stand and wait, ask her if this is life or death. Is there blood? Do you still have two hands? Has our roof caved in on us? No? Then we will get through this. I don't know how, but we will. Then we go take a ride and get told by multiple strangers what a sweet little angel she is. Aww. Those big blue eyes can be decieving.

I wish I could put a picture of those big blue eyes on here... but... alas... woe is me... I am camera-less. Whiiiiiiiine.