As you all know by now, we're up the duff again. I won't go into my typical rantings about how the pill is a joke... *grin* Anyway, we were obviously meant to have two children, thus it shall be so. Of course, Himself is having a little nip and tuck after the second one deigns to exit my ovarian Bastille. "No More Unexpected Babies" is our philosophy for life from this point forward.
I'm equally as sick as I was with Madam, if not a little more. I won't go into major detail here either, Sister Three has a tricky tummy and I wouldn't want to make her join me in empathetic pukeage, but let's just say it doesn't take much to set me off. Add to this the fact that Madam is teething again (think majorly rotten nappies) and I'm holding my breath a lot. A lot. I'm experimenting with various food combinations, the main issue there is that something will work once or twice, and then the next time I go to eat it, no dice. *lol* For three days I ate nothing but cous cous with hummus and falafel, and now the thought of hummus... *shudder* Oh well. This too shall pass. Right? RIGHT???
My waistline has rapidly expanded. Like, rapidly. I'm back in preggo jeans, which is great for me (I'd forgotten how comfortable they were) and bad for everybody that has to look at me (they fall down REALLY easily, and I'm sure most of Uxbridge has gotten a glimpse of my rear end by now). I'm also having trouble stopping Herself from planting a forceful foot in my midsection... she doesn't understand why I've ceased allowing her to use me as a live-in jungle gym. *lol* Himself is filling in admirably.
While we're on the subject of Himself, I know you're sick of hearing it, but I'm going to say it again. My husband kicks your husband's butt. He comes in from work, having braved the over an hour long journey from Soho after a full day's work with a VERY early start, and jumps straight in with Madam. He takes her upstairs with him to change into sweats, he feeds her dinner, he plays with her, he does her nighttime bottle and changes her into a clean nappy and brings her to bed. Mind you, about the time he's playing with her, he's sent me upstairs to go to sleep. After he's brought her to bed, he goes back downstairs, tidies up the living room and kitchen, does the dishes, moves clothes to the dryer or folds what's dry, sorts the rubbish and recycling, then comes to bed only to start all over again the next day... are you catching what I'm throwing? Yup. I'm lucky. Think lottery lucky. *smug*
Anyway, we need to get moving. Swimming with friends today, and I need to have a go at the house given that I've been Bad Wife lately and let Himself do all the work. Hope you're all having a great Valentine's Day, use it as an excuse to eat chocolates. At least, that's what I do. *grin*