Or as I like to call it: The Bell-Dawg.
And please note that I took at least 20 photos just to get the most flattering angle. Apparently I was successful because Jewel saw the picture and was like:
"Wow, Mom, you look skinny."
Because looking skinny is more important than actually being skinny, right?
Black tank tops & proper camera angles cover a multitude of sins.
So here I am, having officially survived morning sickness only to move on to Phase 2 which means blood sugar issues, faintness, feverish sweats, sudden shouts for The Mateo to "bring some orange juice, quick!!"
And on Thursday, we will learn whether or not we are having twins. The Mateo's been eyeing The Bell-Dawg with growing alarm.
"Were you this big last time?" he keeps asking.
I don't really remember. In fact, I've forgotten so much about being pregnant and giving birth that remembering everything again is annoying. It's like: "oh yeah, this is what it felt like! No wonder I wanted to forget it!"
I like to forget things that annoy me. The Mateo does, too. Which is why he keeps asking things like:
"Did you cry this much last time? Did you sleep this much last time? Were you this hungry last time?"
I.Don't.Know. I'm not one of those people who writes down every ache & pain, gets on the scale every morning or examines my body for signs of change. I pretty much try to ignore the fact that my butt now requires a Wide-Load sign.
I know I shouldn't complain. My body blows through pregnancies with minimal problems. Or maybe it's just that by the 4th pregnancy I've stopped worrying about every little burp and fart.
I'm happier if I just let God do the worrying and in a few months when I'm holding the baby I'll be like, "Wow, this is so cool! How did this happen?"