Yesterday was not a fun day at the doctor's office. According to their scale, I gained 20 pounds this month. I would be more upset about it if I wasn't weighing myself religiously at home. Last month the doctor's scale was off by about six pounds in my favor. This month it was off by about three pounds in the doctor's. Either way, the third trimester is upon me and now I get to, once again, experience the joys of becoming a human balloon.
I can't say that I love being pregnant. I'm too much a get-it-over-and-done-with kind of person and all of this growing and shrinking is testing the limits of my patience. Since 2005, when I got pregnant with Sam, I have gained 50+ pounds, lost 50+ pounds, gained 30+ more pounds, changed dress sizes six times, changed shoes sizes twice, gone through three different bra sizes, my hair has gone from stick straight to curly to wavy, and from blond to brown to red to some shade in between.
Am I done yet?
I used to plan a yearly makeover for myself. I would scour magazines for pictures of women I wanted to look like, agonize over how to wear my hair, what sort of clothes to buy, what "look" I wanted to achieve. Now, I'll be perfectly happy if I can get a haircut, brow wax, and color all in the same month and can go a whole day in clothes that actually fit me without being covered in snot prints and soggy cookie pieces.
I still feel like I'm asking for too much, somehow.
I am going to be a mother to two boys after all. This is going to require a paradigm shift. Give me another couple of months, and I'll probably be happy with a regular shower.
I'm beginning to wonder what Tom and I were thinking--embrace the "choas theory" of child rearing--have two close together--nevermind that the first one hadn't hit his stride yet and that we had no idea what we were in for.
I'll admit it. I'm slightly terrified at the prospect, and no more enthusiastic about getting things "back to normal" than I was last time. It takes a village to get a new mom back in shape--a village with Weight Watchers and a big gym with personal trainers and lots of scary looking equipment.
And nevermind having two kids. A neighbor of mine recently made the observation that two kids are really three. There's child #1, child #2, and then the relationship between child #1 and child #2.
I can't believe it's all only about 10 weeks away...