Do you really want to know?

Many a well wishing person has asked me in the recent days How are you feeling? I answer back A little tired, not bad or something like that. These are the people who wouldn't normally be asking if it weren't for the fact that they just learned I was pregnant, so I understand the social rules - I measure my answers appropriately.

I feel different every minute of the day, which is exhausting in and of itself, not to mention being already debilitating tired from the pregnancy and the ever oh so challenging one beating me down. This morning I had to carry him from the house, diapered and with shoes and socks on, but with his pants down to his ankles and no shirt out to the car. As I observed myself doing this in the third person, I thought, at least it's warm outside. He won't be too cold. These are the thoughts of a crazy woman. By eight o'clock I had tried every thing I could to get him dressed and he didn't want to so that's where we were at. (He gave in once I hit the porch, just so you know.) I know most women approaching number two probably wonder how to manage getting two babes into the car but I am consumed today with how to do that when I can't even get the one I have there by himself. Sanely.

Sometimes I'm nauseous, more often I'm not. Standard stuff. While not surprised that it's happening, I'm fairly disappointed that I feel freaked out that my midsection is expanding. Like thinking that I want to stop it and can't. I don't want the baby not to grow, I just want to control my belly. I want it to get bigger when I say so and to my specifications. That's not only impossible, it's nuts.

Last night when I tried to get the ice cream out of the freezer (what was that about an expanding belly?) it fell out of the freezer and landed on my foot. Then when I tried to open the silverware drawer a fork got stuck and bent completely out of shape. Then when I put the spoon in it bent all the way backwards. After that I tried with another spoon and scraped my knuckles. That's when I decided to chuck it (the spoon, not the ice cream, I'm not that far gone) across the room. When my husband came in demanding to know what was wrong with me I yelled at him to JUST LEAVE ME ALONE. He's not having any of this crazy-hormone-pregnant-lady-business so he did just that for the rest of the night. Which, of course, made me more pissed. All because of ice cream.

And I'm going to be in charge of not one - but two children.

I'm feeling great.(not)