I've gained all of five or six pounds so far. Ian thinks I'm carrying high. Or perhaps he thinks I'm carrying low. I can't remember. At this point, I still think I look like I'm carrying one too many cookies rather than a baby.
So far we've scored every baby item for free, or at extremely reduced prices at thrift stores. Get used to all the secondhand stuff, kid. Your mom and dad are cheap.
The baby room is shaping up quickly although it's still a horrific brown color. I'm sure we'll see plenty of brown once the kid arrives so we'll need a change of color soon.
And apart from that, I still sleep all the time. All the time. I feel energetic at work, but the minute I arrive home and eat dinner, I become comatose. I'm averaging eleven to twelve hours of sleep per night.
Ian passes the time by snapping photos of me:
Here's Laura sawing logs.
Here's Laura after a visit from the Sandman.
And here's Laura all tuckered out.
It goes on like that.
We are scheduled to find out the baby's sex on December 10th.
I've promised the fetus a play kitchen even if its a boy. Ian felt slightly horrified at this at first, but has reconciled his need for a manly infant and his own throbbing testosterone with my wish that the kid play with a variety of toys.
I felt surprised that a man who loves flowers and hates sports would react so vehemently to a toddler boy playing with little boxes of fake spaghetti noodles and tiny cartons of milk.
Luckily, Ian quickly saw the humor in everything and snickered at the thought of forcing his son to play football when neither of us can stand the game. And thus, the first great gender argument was resolved.
That's exactly how I remember my first pregnancy. Asleep by 8pm...Poor, lonely Chris..
ReplyDeleteSteph, Ian told his co-workers he gets a good 12 hours of sleep every night because of me. He does get bored in the evenings though.
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