1. First Trimester Wrap-Up- Just like that, the first trimester of my pregnancy flew by. I was thirteen weeks last Friday. Fourteen weeks tomorrow. And considering my habit of having babies at thirty-six weeks, I suppose twelve weeks could have qualified as the end of the first trimester. But we're crossing our fingers for maybe making it to at least thirty-seven weeks this time. Maybe. As for how all is going thus far, it's definitely so far, so good. I haven't gained any weight yet...actually lost a pound or two...and no, I don't have a baby bump yet either. I think with Rudy I was definitely showing by this point. But then again, I was immediately back in the saddle with his pregnancy. It definitely was a much longer break for my body to recover with this one. As for weird pregnancy symptoms, really not much there either. I haven't had much of an appetite, though definitely not morning sickness either. No barfing. Just like with my other pregnancies, the only time I'm even slightly tempted to barf is while brushing my teeth. Go figure. Of course there has been the lovely indigestion and chorus of constant burping. Some medical person at a party that Mark and I attended explained that when you're pregnant, the extra progesterone produced by the placenta actually loosens the closing at the bottom of the esophagus, making reflux, indigestion...and burping...much more common. Good times. Luckily, the Prilosec helps a ton. And while the drowsiness has subsided somewhat, I'm still pretty tired. But then again, that might exist whether I'm pregnant or not. These boys could exhaust anyone! So that's that. End of the first leg of the trip. I'm sure there's big changes to come in part two.
2. We haven't had much precipitation here in Lubbock in a long time. Aside from that mud rain. Really, it was a dust storm for several hours followed by an hour or so of tiny sprinkles of rain descending through the dirt floating through the air, thus creating literal mud raining from the sky. With the temp being in the 30s/40s, the local car washes were having a heyday. But anyway, it's so dry here. The kind of dry where when you breathe in through your nose it's actually painful. And Rudy finds my bottles of nasal saline spray sitting around and knows exactly what to do with them. And people with hair like mine loathe the results of brushing their hair, knowing the static explosion afterward is destined to defeat the purpose of brushing. I think I'm having more of a problem with it this year because I actually have long hair in the winter. That, and I have a hard time avoiding fabrics like fleece. Come on! It's cold! Nothing is better than a cozy fleece jacket. Or fleece pants. But long, thin hair does not bode well with said fleece jackets. And have I mentioned that our couches are made out of that micro suede fabric? Also static carriers. And I'm pretty sure my blow dryer is loaded with a static cartridge that blows warm air and static all over my hair when I attempt to dry it. I'm not sure what's worse: the staticy results of blow drying or the dead, limp look of letting it air dry. Thank God for pony-tail holders. And head bands. By summer when my hair is actually long enough to cut for Locks of Love, I'll be busy enjoying my non-staticy flowing locks. But not now.
3. Mark wanted to know if I was going to be writing about how he's driving me nuts. But really, he's not. On the contrary, he's been somewhat spoiling me. Since we've returned from Houston for Christmas break, Mark has been busy searching for a new job, but I think the waiting process is just about to drive him crazy. Really, it's just the stress of the unknown. You see, it takes roughly thirty seconds to email someone your resume and hours...days...to wait for them to reply. He's contacted tens of different leads and has actually had some great potential responses, but I guess it's just a more tedious process than we thought it would be. So for the past few weeks, he's been my right hand man. Meaning the boys and I definitely haven't gotten back to our previous form of "normal" because instead we're doing everything with Dada. Which I certainly don't mind. As I asked him last night at dinner: "How many nights since you've been home with us have I said anything about how exhausted I am or how I seriously need a break from the boys, even for just five minutes?" Truthfully, the answer is zero. With him at home with us, it naturally dispels the parenting responsibilities between both of us. So as soon as he can sense I'm on edge with the boys, he just steps right in. It's nice to make it to the end of the day and not feel like doing a sideline cheerleading touchdown routine once the boys finally fall asleep. Man, it's going to be a tough pill to swallow once he does go back to work. And by then I'm sure I will be big ol' pregnant and naturally exhausted, making the process that much tougher. Oh well. Enjoy it while I can!
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