Ha. Nope. I don't even remember doing that, silly.
Today I went to the grocery store (ALONE!) (And only had to get eight bags of groceries instead of 28 bajillion!) and as I was heading back to my car to unload, the car next to me had a mom and two daughters (a teen and a tween, who looked close in age) loading their groceries into the car. The sisters were yelling at each other, flinging accusations of spilling the blueberries back and forth, and shouting about where the fruit should go, all while the mom ignored them with a zoned out look on her face, like It's not worth it; at least they're helping. And what did I do when I happened upon this scene?
I teared up. Yes, I started to cry while looking at the screaming and bitching. I thought, OH, SISTERS! Sisters who are probably exactly two years apart, just like my Josie Belle and little Baby X! One day my girls will be teenagers and be GROWN UP SISTERS. I even had the overwhelming urge to say to the mom as she wheeled her own cart over to the corral as I did, "Hi! I'm pregnant with my second little girl, and isn't it great to have TWO GIRLS?! Aren't you glad you gave your daughter a SISTER to love?!?!"
Seriously. I almost said it out loud. Like that time a few months ago in Meijer when I heard a dad call his daughter by her name (a name Jeremy likes but I don't, because of the troublesome issue of no pretty nicknames), and I actually said, "Oh, my husband loves that name but I always worry about the nicknames. Do people call her ____?" Perhaps this man was a licensed psychiatrist or was otherwise used to dealing with crazy people, because we had a lovely conversation about his daughter's name in the dairy aisle. What a sport.
You see, I think I am doing alright because I'm not sitting around sobbing all day, which is what I did for the majority of my first trimesters with both pregnancies, but it turns out I am just as ridiculous these days.
Oh, and speaking of emotions, when Jeremy read what I wrote about him saying I looked "pretty freaking pregnant," he said I made him sound like an ass. Did you guys get that impression? Because, for the record, I was totally not offended by that comment. I thought it was funny, and actually kind of sweet. What with my slow belly progress compared to the last time, it has kind of crept up on us, and lately we are like, Third trimester? Really? How? Can that really be right? 31 weeks? That seems close to 40 weeks! And to be fair, when he came upon me in the kitchen, I had just pulled up my shirt to adjust my pants, so he got a full-on view of the majesty that is my big ol' belly in maternity jeans. It is a sight to behold, for sure.
Okay, I guess you deserve to see it too:
Right. So, recap: I am a basketcase, Jeremy is NOT an ass, and my elastic pants make you all wish I were writing a fashion blog.
(Very) Pregnant Veronica M.D. (aka, VPVMD) (Yeah, I think I'll start using that one.)