August and September, thanks for keeping us on our toes. August, you began with drizzly days and then turned on the heat. September, you’ve been muy, muy caliente, leading to early school release and me feeling like I’m baking in this extra baby skin. And then you bust out an overcast and humid-ish day today? It’s easy to be confused.
Heartburn, let’s get something straight. I don’t like you. I will never like you. I will take the acid reducer like candy until Sixtus arrives and then you are hitting the road, comprende?
Spanish, evidently Sixtus brings you out in me. Interesante. Especially since I can’t remember ordinary, mundane words in normal conversation. Weird.
Pregnant laugh, you have also come to the forefront. You make me feel like my brother and Uncle Mike which is not a bad thing. But you’re over the top. Raucous, even. I’ll try to enjoy you while you last.
Bladder, we’ve got 7.5 weeks until baby’s arrival. Keep it together, mm-kay?
Children of mine, thanks for deciding that TODAY was the day to learn how to play hopscotch (way to spearhead the petition, Max!) and requesting that I teach you. I hope me in my pregnant glory hopping and bending on one foot, is seared into your brain as an image of love and devotion. Thank you, too, for reminding me that dropping everything to play is always a good idea.
Gemma, your eagerness and astounding ability to mimic anyone or anything is awesome. Hillarious. It stresses my bladder and exercises my laugh and adds so much joy to our days. My favorite is having you say, “Thanks, honey.” so deadpan and monotone when I tuck you in or give you your water bottle. Love it!
Jac, you watching Glenn Beck while I try to write? It’s like you’re trying to prove that I can’t multi-task. But I love you make me breakfast and bring me lunch and play with the kids before dinner and interrupt my dish washing to dance with me. You’re pretty great. I’ll keep you around.
