People my husband has told we are pregnant: His friends, his brother, his barber, the guy who changed the oil in our car, and the 12 year old next door neighbor who asked why she saw me throwing up in the backyard.
People my husband has not told yet: His parents.
This is not surprising. The last pregnancy announcement didn’t go over so well…mostly because it happened as they cradled their 6 week old grandson at their Country Club’s Labor Day picnic.
Husband: So, it turns out we are going to give the little man a new play mate.
Mother in Law: Oh yeah, you are getting another dog?!
Husband: Um, no, actually, we’re having another baby…like…a human one.
***Cue sobbing, wine spilling, utter embarrassment in front of their closest friends and enemies because their daughter in law is clearly a fertile, fertile whore.
So I am really expecting this time to rock!
It would be soooo much better if I could be drunk for it, because what would be better than a knocked up pregnant daughter in law, spewing obscenities in fish nets and a leopard print tube top dress, but that doesn’t seem to be in the cards. I couldn’t find a leopard print tube top dress anywhere in Walmart, especially one that would highlight my already huge belly that is full of pain and gas from not being able to poop for two weeks.
Um, Walmart, how can you call yourself the Bloomingdale’s of the Mid West if you don’t carry the high class shit I need to function in my day to day life?!
Speaking of functioning in my day to day life, I am struggling.
I didn’t have morning sickness the first two times, so this is new to me (No one say “uh oh,bet it’s a girl,” because it’s not. I only create balls and wieners…mom!). It’s hard with hubby working so much, and most days, while I spend hours hovering over the porcelain bowl (which, btw hubby, if you don’t wipe off after you pee, I will kill you, nothing promotes continuous vomit like splashes of dried pee and random black curly hairs) I just thank God for Noggin and fruit snacks, or my kids would probably be eating the dog and lighting things on fire.
Not to mention, and I am totally not afraid to share this with you all, because I know you totally won’t say anything…I totally pee all over the place when I throw up. Seriously. Like…everywhere. My lady envelope no longer processes the ability to stay closed during blunt projectile vomiting.
I have become the gassy version of a golden shower fetish film.