(Almost) 17 weeks

(I may be in my pajamas, but at least I cleaned the mirror this week.)

Somehow without me knowing it, we’ve almost reached the halfway point of this pregnancy. Which means this kid is coming in just five months. Last time around five months felt like an eternity. This time I know the end will be here before we know it, so I’m trying to bank as much mama and Owen time as I can. I know he won’t remember being an only child, but I will, and I want to just soak it in.

Next week is my monthly doctor appointment, and then we’ll set the date for the BIG ultrasound, most likely around Valentine’s Day. I’m super excited to find out if baby is a boy or a girl. I’m still mostly convinced we’re having another boy, — I mean, we’ve done boy. Clearly, we make boys — but I don’t have that set-in-stone feeling I had the first time. A girl would be wonderful. A boy would be too. Just give me a healthy kid (and hopefully one who sleeps a LITTLE BIT BETTER than Owen did. That’s not too much to ask, is it?).

The second trimester has been pretty nice, but I’ve had some ca-razy mood swings slash tear fests lately and all I can do when they’re over is apologize to Michael for marrying a psychotic person and go about my day. I think he finds me amusing. (Or, nuts. Maybe a little of both.) Baby is bopping around in there fairly frequently and while cravings has been basically non-existent this time around, I can’t push that nagging feeling of wanting a cold cut sandwich on delicious bread piled high with cheese and lettuce out of my mind. It’s the only avoid-food I’m pretty serious about during pregnancy, and while I know there are regular non-lunch meat options that to most would probably taste better, because I can’t have it, it’s all I want.

There is a deli about15 minutes away that Michael already agreed to go to for me after this baby is born. Like, that day. I CANNOT WAIT.

So, that thing about being a desperate houswife:

We live on a cul de sac and I’m at home. Which means I can see the comings and goings on the street all day long. Which means I have completely built up a story in my head that one neighbor is having an affair with a handy man while her husband is at work. Even if possibly I saw the two men both at the house this morning. Possibly. Which means there is probably no affair and just some house work going on, but whatever. In my head this is much juicier.

I also saw another neighbor’s teenage daughter come home during the middle of the day. Holding hands with a boy. And they went in the house. Where no one was home.

BUSTED.

Before you tell me I have to get out more, let me assure you this activity is not all-consuming. At least not yet. It’s probably a good thing I’m going to have my hands full soon, I mean, REALLY.

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