I'm super emotional this pregnancy. I kinda don't know myself.
Yesterday, Jacob had the day off and when we came back from swimming, he asked what was for dinner. I said I didn't know, and I wasn't hungry. He proceeded to heat up leftover pasta for himself and the little man, and when he brought the food to the table, I broke down in a puddle of tears and ran to the bedroom.
He eventually came and sat next to me on the floor. He held me, and said he was sorry, and I mumbled something about him and Jake ganging up on me. I don't know. I've already forgotten. It was one of my more admirable moments to be sure.
Jacob is going out of town this weekend for his cousin's wedding, and I won't even be able to text him. I expect to spend all of Saturday and Sunday in a crumpled mess.
I really just need to make a shirt that says "Only Sympathy Will Be Tolerated" and wear it for the next eight weeks.
I haven't been doing a great job counting this pregnancy, and on Tuesday I was SURE I was 33 weeks pregnant until my BabyCenter app notified me differently and clocked me at a disappointing 32.
So I cried.
Ok. Ok. Alright. Enough is enough. Getting off the Complain Train. Onwards to:
Four Things I'm Grateful for Today As Evidenced in the Pictures Below
The pool guy (not shown) who enraptures him and gives me a solid ten minutes of uninterrupted coffee drinking and blogclicking every morning.
And my garden.
Now I'm off to my stay-sane activities of the day: churning six quarts of cream into butter, sewing my flat diapers into prefolds, and making date-sweetened horchata. (I know!! That sentence makes me want to be my IRL friend, too!)
(And go love on Jessie the Early Bird, because she's a hoot and a half and more pregnant than anyone should ever have to be.)