Making my way downhill

I know I've mentioned before how adorable Nate thinks I am pregnant.  I had another revelation of this last night while we were walking.  As we marched the dogs down a decently large hill in Crown Colony, Nate looked over at me and literally started to laugh.

"WHAT?" I asked.
"You just look so pregnant right now.  It's so cute!" he responded.

So immediately after returning from the walk, I made him snap a few pictures so I could share.  Yes, I'm wearing a running shirt that used to be baggy on me, and yes, it's paired with Ann's boyfriend's giant army shorts.  Yes, I'm also red-faced and sweaty.  Try to ignore all of that and get to the funny part - I really look pregnant.

T minus 3 days

Every day that I wake up, I realize I'm one day closer to D-Day.  And by that I mean, Death to my Summer-Day.  Friday is it.  And I'm just saying - who makes people go back to work on a Friday?  Does that seem a little rude to anyone else?  I mean, let me just enjoy that one last full week of laziness, for goodness sake!

I wish I were one of those teachers who work on lesson plans and classrooms during the summer, eagerly anticipating the time I can get away from my babies and have grown-up conversation with my co-workers. But at this point, I've had plenty of time during each day to harass and hang out with Ann and Nate (whom I consider practically grown-ups), and the only things I want to escape from are my huffy little dogs, who have decided that sniffling and snorting are the ways to get my attention non-stop every day.  Will Lil' Peanut make me want to go back to work next year?  I don't think so,  but I can't say for certain.  Pregnancy has made me a bit of a homebody...

Anyway, just thought I'd share with you that while I've been home, I've been in a summer school of my own, and I've learned some very important lessons!

1.  How to hold in puke while in the car, on the couch, in my bed, etc. etc. etc. instead of puking down the wall, in the shower, or onto the toilet seat cover (woops - learned each part of that lesson the hard way!!!).  This closely corresponds with my second lesson...

2.  How to clean up puke without puking.  Should be useful in the future, although I hope I don't have to use this skill very often.

3.  How to kill and clean up an assortment of bugs all by myself.  That's right, people.  I am armed and dangerous with a flip-flop and a roll of tissue.  

4.  How to knock out an entire month of laundry in a 24-hour period.  It's not pretty, but I've done it.

5.  How to use simple accessories to dress up even the most horrid of maternity shirts.  Now if I could just learn to keep "the panel" concealed at all times...

I'm sure I've learned a host of other lessons this summer, but there you have the really good stuff.  I'll be teaching a seminar during the fall on each, so feel free to register and support my nursery fund.

Now stop distracting me.  I have to learn how to iron because I've got a mountain to tackle.

etsy

I don't know if this ever happens to you, but for some reason, I get trapped on the internet from time to time...  And when I say that, I mean that I get so sucked into websites that I will literally sit and soak them in for hours.  It just happened to me again.

Ever seen etsy.com?  People selling their homemade crafts - jewelry, hats, weird things that look like they're made of bones (not sure how to explain that), etc. etc. etc.  And it's amazing!  All of a sudden I want to make scarves, or sew clothing, or make adorable tiny headbands.  All the things that I wish I did more of anyway, but somehow lack the time for these days.  Hooray for etsy!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to drag myself away from the computer and make Nathan start an exercise plan with me.  Supposedly, lots of exercise makes for an easier delivery when the peanut is ready.  And the way this pregnancy has been going, I need all the help I can get.  So I may run a bit (but not too much).  I'm going to walk A LOT.  And dang it, my man is coming with me.

Happy Monday!

The bitter end

My last Friday of freedom until Thanksgiving, and it began with a nightmare and half of a strawberry cake donut.  One was terrifying, the other indigestion-inducing (I'll let you decide which was which).

Oh summer, where did you go?  I lost you in a haze of heat, vomit, and summer school.
Now I have to remember how to wash my hair every day, and wear "real clothes" even though it irritates me to have to get dressed these days.  Baggy tee-shirts and Nate's old boxers, kiss your fashionable days good-bye.  I'll only see you on the weekends, and even that's no guarantee.

No more lunches with Nate, or long-afternoon phone calls for no reason at all, or naps on the couch on accident.  Which means no more trips out in public with intense couch-print on my face and disheveled hair, the panel on my maternity shorts peeking out under my shirt.

And I'll miss the Wednesday "Family Day" trips to Tonkawa, swinging off rope swings into the icy-cold water in the middle of a 100-degree day and rescuing the boys from the newest bully on the bridge.

6:00 a.m., you will come way too early every day, and I won't even have a run to make you more pleasant.  And 4:00 p.m., you will always seem too far away to make me less exhausted, especially with dinner to be made and fun to be had.

Sigh.  Summer, oh summer, I miss you already.

At last...

... it happened!
Miracle of miracles, I felt my little peanut move last night for the very first time.  It hasn't made sense to me for a while that if he's so extremely active, I can't feel him.  But it's like I suddenly became very aware of him tumbling and rolling around, and I actually tell he was in there.  And then I felt him again this morning.  It's like a miracle, and poor Nate just can't be in on it quite yet (although I was positive he'd be able to feel him last night).

And the funniest thing is that when he moved, I yelled to Nate, "Hey, (insert adorable boy name) just moved!"  We've been going round and round between two names - Maximillian (Max) or Milo, and I honestly haven't for a second been able to choose a favorite.  But as soon as he moved, I said one of them, and it surprised us both!  It definitely doesn't mean we've chosen for sure, but we may be on the right track.  Is it just me, or does one have an incredible amount of pressure when choosing a name for a child that he'll carry around with him for the rest of his life?  How do you pick for sure?

Upcoming Peanut Festival

So Nate and I were thinking last night about what a celebration we'll have when the peanut is born, and let me tell you, everyone is invited!  And then, of course, knowing that Nate grew up in Grapeland, it made us think of just one thing.  The Peanut Festival.

That's right - we'll be having our very own Peanut Festival every year at his birthday, and there's so much that will have to be included!  For example, the Peanut Festival needs a queen.  And since I'll be the only girl in the family, I'll have to be the queen every year until we have a girl (that is, if we ever have another child after this sick sick pregnancy).  I'm already shaking out some of my old Homecoming and Prom dresses so I'll have an evening gown to wear (it's only appropriate), and Nathan is already learning Songbird by Kenny G on the saxophone (or not)...  I'm going to need a sponsor for this first year, so just let me know if you want to back a sure-fire winner!

On top of that, we're going to need carnival games, face-painting, and some sort of food-eating contest.  I'm taking applications for floats for the parade.  And Nate has informed me that we absolutely have to include the Friday night dance, where we'll shut down all of our main street and have a band on the back of a flat-bed trailer.  Man oh man, this is going to be a classy event.  After all, this is small-town Texas.

Oh! And we'll need peanuts.  Lots and lots of peanuts.

Or just one.  

Well, I've been putting it off forever, because it's been just too overwhelming to think about.  But today I finished consolidating my student loans.    What a headache!  And how discouraging to look at the amount of money I'll be paying for the next twenty years in comparison to the amount of money I actually make at my public school teaching job.  Why don't they pay teachers more like celebrities?  I think we deserve the money way more than any athlete or movie star...

And one more thought.  Here I am, nineteen weeks pregnant.  Why am I still throwing up?