Dear Lemon Baby (so called because, according to this, you are now about the size of a lemon, which, I know. It's substantial. In fact, I believe the proper response would be that you're freaking enormous):
Anyway. Dear Lemon Baby. Hi. This would be your incubator talking and speaking of enormous, you and I? We have several things I think we need to be discussing. First and foremost, you're about 3 months old now, give or take a few days, and due in large part to wonky pregnancy math, which had me pregnant 2 to 3 WHOLE WEEKS before The Deed, you know, was actually did. That's right. According to the crazy ass doctors and nurses, I was actually pregnant BEFORE I got pregnant. WTF, right? (Also, Kid Thing, with regards to The Deed, just remember that, until you're old enough to support your own damn self, the opposite sex is yucky AND, when you ignore that advise, you be sure that you/she is taking the pill AND using a condom. I'm just sayin'. It never hurts to double up.)
Anyway, the point I'm really trying to get at is that I was under the impression, and not unjustifiably, that the nausea and the vomiting and the general, all-around misery that is the first trimester would, you know, be OVER by the beginning of the second trimester, that magical, delightful, mystical 3 month mark I've heard oh, so much about. You know, WHERE WE ARE NOW.
You, dear child, must have failed to receive THAT particular memo.
It would also seem, according to the rather violent goings on of last night, that you are ADAMANTLY opposed to cheetos. THAT WAS UNFORTUNATE FOR ME.
And another thing. While I have yet to gain any weight, due in large part, I'm sure, to all the dinner time vomiting (and not that I'm seriously complaining about no weight gain. HELLZ no. In fact, if we could continue to keep that little symptom to a minimum (while still maintaining a healthy baby weight) I might just make you my favorite kid so far), I do already have two, TWO new, tiny, red stretch marks around my belly button. What the hell?! Now, I realize you're just utilizing my incubator status to it's fullest and to do that you must move you and your people sack higher into my abdomen to make some room (all while displacing my lungs and stomach), but, but, but! Stretch marks?! I've already gotten to the point where only TWO of my non-pregnancy pants fit and even those are a little tight! (Which is why I'm sitting here typing this without any pants on. I am so sexy.) I'm not understanding why you really need to be adding insult to injury here. AND!! Chipotle?! You had to take away Chipotle? Other than chips and guac, any thoughts and daydreams of rice-stuffed burritos is met with stomach churning resistance AND YOUR FATHER IS NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT.
WHY? WHY DO YOU HATE YOUR MAMA?! Seriously. You damn well better show me a SINGLE, solitary, healthy, strong heartbeat on Thursday to make up for all this shit or, so help me god, I will never let you have candy EVER!
Hugs & Kisses,
The Incubator
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3 comments:
It's okay Lemon-baby. Auntie Jaymie and Auntie Tiffany will let you have all the candy you want...and lots of toys that make loud noises... and Auntie Jaymie and Uncle Brendan will enjoy Chipotle for your mama...
Contrary to what you may be thinking, the thought of you enjoying Chipotle does NOT make me feel better.
Well, I have had Chipotle and it opened up near me so MMmmmmmmm......Dearest Lemon Baby - Auntie Rini speaks the truth. We shall spoil you (and laugh at your Mama) rotten and provide you with all kinds of candy. I can only imagine what the grandparents will do for you. The sky's the limit kid. XOXOXO Can't wait to see you!
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