So yeah

My mom warned me every time I said "I really don't think we'll be having a second child" that I was going to end up pregnant any day so I better watch myself. But I ignored her so you can imagine my surprise that while suffering from a mysterious flu that zapped my energy & made me nauseous constantly, I start desperately craving egg drop soup. Seemed odd since I hadn't wanted egg drop soup since the last time I ... oh no ... was ... it can't be ... pregnant. What the what now? I had the thought for a split second but then thought I was probably just trying to steal Ilse's thunder because she was visiting. Follow my logic for a moment if you will. The last time I actually remember watching The Real World on MTV was San Diego about a gazillion years ago. I think San Diego was still the wild west & they may had to pan for gold as their petty assigned jobs? I don't know, it was ages ago but the beginning of the "let's only put good looking heavy drinkers in the house & we'll need a hot tub" stage. Anyhoo, there was one girl that was desperately after another dude in the house & his girlfriend was visiting for a weekend so the girl in the house suddenly got wicked food poisoning. Now she apparently got it from eating a burrito from a place she eats at like 2 or 3 times a week without trouble so all the housemates were saying she was just faking diarrhea to get the dude's attention from his girlfriend. I think you see why I stopped watching The Real World but the point is I found myself thinking "Surely, I'm not feeling so woozy & useless because Ilse's here & Marcel likes her better than me!" But Ilse was feeling sick & sleepy too & I just don't have a The Real World anecdote to explain that so it must have been extended jet lag. Once we discovered I was pregnant it became abundantly clear that she was suffering from sympathy pregnancy, which should have been obvious from the start.

What the hell was I talking about? Ahhh yes, the egg drop scenario. I needed to go to the mall anyway so while there I thought I may as well pick up a pregnancy test just in case. Oh, I haven't mentioned that my period was a couple weeks late have I? I've had wacky periods before so I wasn't actually concerned & I'd only had one period since I stopped breastfeeding the little engine that could so I had no idea what my cycles were like these days anyway. And oh yeah, I WAS ON THE PILL. I will backstep & point out that it was the mini-pill because I took it while breastfeeding & liked the lack of side effects. But apparently preventing pregnancy was one of those pesky side effects but I understand now that the mini-pill doesn't actually stay in your system, which is why (pay attention here ladies) you have to take the pill at the exact time every single day. That detail is not to be messed with - they didn't build in a few hours leeway for you so set your alarms.

So back at the mall (I know, can you believe this story is STILL going?) I am doing my little errands & stop by the chemist to pick up a 3-pack of pregnancy tests. I think we all know there is no use in buying a single test - you always need extra confirmation either way. My plan was just to finish shopping & go home for the testing but I for one can not function with a pregnancy test burning a hole in my bag so off I go to the land of dignity, aka the mall's public restroom. Is there ever a mall bathroom that does not have a pooper in it by the way? I finally get to the front of the line & unpack my supplies in the little stall & am humming along to Lady Gaga's Poker Face Paparazzi. Test done, waiting for the results, still humming. Two lines appear but they only go halfway across. What? I start giggling because that's the only option & start unpacking test #2 then realize I have no pee left. Weigh my options, go get a pedicure & chug some water. With my new gorgeous coral toenails I trudge back to the bathroom where to end the longest story ever with as little excitement as possible I confirm that yes, I am pregnant. Shit.

3 months later, I am still nauseous & very sensitive to smells, still tired but am getting closer to slightly functional every day. I am puking regularly & sadly it's mostly due to the smells that come out of my lovely son but sometimes I surprise myself with random no reason puking & that's just a delight.

It hasn't all been sunshine & roses - okay, I guess I haven't mentioned anything sunshiney or rosey but I'm sure there has to have been something positive along the way. We are excited to have another kid now but are absolutely petrified at the same time - I'm nervous about having the same number of children as arms to restrain them & how the hell I'm going to leave the house with a wandering toddler & a useless newborn but I'm told you just magically figure this shit out when it happens. But seriously if you have any tips, please pass them on.

I have found that pregnancy has made me a more flamboyant mother. I have gone from the days of "Ben, if you don't get that toy off the TV/table/cat, I am going to take it away" to "Ben, if those crayons touch anything except the paper I AM GOING TO THROW THEM OFF A CLIFF!!!" or "Why is this Play-Doh on the carpet? I swear to you I am going to set it on fire!" I'm assuming when the baby is born a mystical motherly calm will be instilled in me so I can handle two twerps driving me nuts? Is that how it works?

There's other stuff going on as well that I'll go into in a few weeks when we have some answers. My big mouth or whatever the blogging equivalent is would like to just hash it all out on here but I think it's best for us to just keep plodding along on our own for now & keep our little struggle sacred for lack of a more appropriate term. Is it awful that I don't want to share our troubles & I'm really not in the mood to hear people's platitudes? Is platitudes a word? I think you just reach your limit of wonderful, well-meaning people telling you that everything is going to be fine so I'd rather just not get it started. Probably everything will actually be fine but I am a terrible person because I want to smack people sometimes & say "Ya know what, maybe it won't be okay. Maybe I'm allowed to fucking panic & stress & cry as much as I want to without you smiling at me & saying that it's in God's hands." I don't care whose hands it's in. That is irrelevant when things aren't okay. So now that I've gone overly dramatic on you, I will ask for any extra prayers you've got lying around or just some warm wishes - if I can't hear them, I can't possibly smack you can I? So you're safe. And please don't worry, we are talking about everything with our families & a couple of the kind of close friends who suffer with us instead of automatically saying it will be fine so we're not going it alone or anything, I'm just not ready for public broadcast yet. And really I'm not so sure why I'm so defensive - not one single person has given me any reason but I'm just on edge anyway these days with hormones & seriously, the crayons & Play-Doh are going to push me over some metaphorical line in the sand if they don't get thrown off a bridge, weighed down with concrete first.

I should end on a less hostile note but Ben has figured out how to climb onto ......... it is now 10 minutes later because as I was writing that first little bit, Ben fell off of the TV cabinet, whacking his head on the way down, biting his cheek & we had a little disaster on our hands. He is okay now, smiling & can't see any broken teeth - the tiny bit of blood in his mouth is gone & I'm given him some Panadol & Nurofen so hopefully he won't get too bad of a headache but I'm imagining some bruises tomorrow. Why would the universe think giving us a second child is a good idea? I wrote ikea instead of idea first so obviously my priorities are straight.

So I will end on that wonderful example of my mothering skills. I have to clean this house before it drives me insane - seriously the dust appears mere moments after I clean it up & no amount of washing dishes ever gets us to the bottom of the pile. I won't threaten to burn the house down because some day it might burn down & one of you smart-asses will point this blog out & I won't be able to get my rightfully owed insurance money. But yeah, I might beat the house with a baseball bat if it doesn't start staying clean for me.