Saturday, June 26, 2004
Do you wanna know a secret?
Oooh aaah oooh/Do you promise not to tell?/Oh-oh-oh…
*slaps self*
I had all of these visions, when I first set this site up separately, of having all of these wonderful insightful things to say, complete with daily updates and reminiscing taking me back to the moment that my jaw dropped at the sight of that second pink line.
Well, you can see what you got instead. Heh.
The secret is this...being pregnant is sort of boring.
Oh, I won’t deny that I’m tickled beyond words multiple times every day by one baby trick or another, to the point where my poor hubby probably wishes I’d quit telling him about it, or that he’s equally amused when he hears me telling her in my new mommy-voice that her presence is requested *anywhere* but on my bladder and I mean now, kiddo.
But how often can you really blog about that?
In any case, that was a rather long preface to what I really meant to say, which is probably way, way too much information for most of you, but which I am really, really excited about because to me it seems like a lovely sign, dammit, and that is that my, er, boobs are showing definite signs of being in working order. Like, freaky, dude.
This being a mammal thing is a real trip. As a matter of fact, I’ve decided that it is such a trip that it lends considerable weight to the argument that there is, indeed, a God. I think it’s probable that randomness and weeding would have produced an arrangement considerably less weird.
I’m just sayin’...