I'm beginning the writing process on this post without a title. Which probably means for you, my dear readers, you're going to get a smorgusboard (is that even a real word?) of topics. I'm just going to start writing about the goings on of now and see where it leads me.
Pregnant. The thing that seems to be on my brain most lately. And, more specifically is this baby a boy or a girl? I try not to daydream too much about what it will be like when baby is here because I'm afraid if I daydream too much about a boy, or too much about a girl I'll be disappointed if it's not the gender I've been daydreaming of. I can honestly say I would love to have either. A boy would be great because I'd love for Gabe to have a brother he can grow and learn with and hopefully have many things in common with. A girl because I'd love to have a daughter to do girly things with (and make girly things for). And, if she turns into a tomboy that's alright with me. I'm not all pink and frilly kinda girly anyway. This time tomorrow I'll know. Boy or girl. Girl or boy.
And, then once we know we can start doing some serious baby preparation. Like, say....pick a name! For months we've thrown around names we like, but until we're sure of the gender I can't get myself to commit to anything....boy or girl. Gabe would like to name a girl Hattie and a boy Bear. If it's a girl, our spare bedroom is going to get a makeover. If it's a boy, once he's sleeping through the night he'll bunk in the same bedroom as Gabe. In what bed, I have no idea. I'm thinking we'll probably get Gabe a twin bed and convert his toddler bed back to a crib.
I can feel the baby moving every day. I had forgotten what a fun feeling that was. I think with Gabe everything was so new and unfamiliar and downright scary sometimes that I may not have taken the time to really relish in the tiny movements. And, maybe it's just been three years and I don't remember clearly how I felt during that time. The movements are getting stronger every day, but not strong enough yet to feel from outside my ever expanding belly. Last week I went through four work shirts before deciding it was definitely time to pull out the maternity shirts. To most it probably just looks like I'm sneaking extra servings at mealtimes, but if you feel my belly you can definitely tell it's not all flab anymore. I'm definitely not sneaking extras. My appetite still hasn't returned to normal since all those months of nausea. And, still my hormonal body is torturing me with periodic mornings of puking. I'll spare you the details. :-)
School. Specifically, Casey's semester. Eighteen credit hours. Six classes total. One week down, approximately 18 weeks to go. So far, so good.
Gabe. Oh, where do I even begin? That boy. He's sweet. He's funny. He loves. He whines. He obeys. He disobeys. He sings. He's addicted to watching home videos on my cellphone. He questions...."What does drunk mean?" (He heard the word in a Christian music video we were watching.) His favorite word to repeat is stupid. (Obviously, mommy and daddy overuse this word.)
I'm the first to rise each morning and as I'm in the bathroom getting ready for the day he'll tiptoe out of his bedroom, shutting the door behind him, and will groggily run to me with a tired smile and say, "Morning Mommy. I want to watch Diego. And have cereal and milk." Most mornings we just go with Diego and milk because he has breakfast at daycare. Sometimes he'll talk me into a piece of fruit to go with his milk. This is a new routine just in the last few weeks. The old routine required us waking a very grumpy Gabe out of sweet slumber, fighting to dress him, and get him out the door each morning. I like this new routine a lot.
Watching Diego has increased his pretend play too. He's often found "stuck" and someone has to rescue him. He'll cry out Ayudame! Ayudame! (Spanish for Help me! Help me!).
He knows his birthday is coming soon. He gets very excited about it. If you ask him how old he is he'll have no problem telling you he's two. However, if you ask him how old he's going to be on his birthday the answer is most often five. Not yet you little stinker.
Bedtime. It's now. Good night. (Or, good morning to those of you who will read this right at 8 am when it posts.)
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