Shut Your Mouth!

Been cussing like a sailor. Have decided to call it "diapermouth." (Oh wait, they already covered that euphemism with pottymouth, didn't they? Punks). Not sure what it is about the hormones this tri as opposed to last, but seriously, poor Jon.


If I described my irritation when I don't eat as Godzilla in a steroid rage while PMSing, then apparently the start of the second trimester of preggocy is like if that monster were a mean drunk and every time it got irritated it took 12 shots of tequila. I sometimes feel as if I may breathe fire.


**Note to my adoring hubster: At these times, though you may feel like punching me in the mouth or ovary, please stifle the urge and go for a hug (or pet my head or something). It may seem counterintuitive, but the only apparent remedy to this is affection. Chances that I'll inadvertently roundhouse your head off are slim to none.

Child's Play

Umm... yeah. There's no way we're ready for this. 

Last weekend, Jon and I were sitting in bed playing video games and I looked down at my belly. Jon goes "What the heck are we gonna do when this thing is born? We can't be sitting here playing Zelda." To which I responded, "Yeeeah; We didn't really (air quotes) think this through." 

We both burst into a fit of laughter  - which I interpret as 'Hey we've still got 6 or so months. We'll deal with that later...' 


And rest assured, we're going to rock out some family Guitar Hero as soon as the kid is old enough.