“Mommy? Were you pregnant at your wedding?”
“Uh, no. What? No. I wasn’t. Does that even make sense?” (I was thinking back to last week’s very brief, very basic conversation about how the baby got in my tummy…from sex, which God gives as a blessing to married people.)
“Really? Well, you looked pregnant.” *Skips off*
This brief exchange almost left me dissolved in a pile of tears, which I blame on pregnancy hormones. Also, pregnancy at this point is leaving me feeling decidedly unglamorous—like, the opposite of my wedding day. I was wearing sweatpants and had messy, matted hair—showering takes more energy than I have to spare. I’m bloated and hungry and nauseous. I’ve had to say goodbye to my favorite pair of jeans. My face is an awesome candidate for Proactiv…the “before” picture, not the “after”.
So. I got up, took a shower, called PJ to pick up take-out, hurried the kids towards bed, dug out my curling iron, and put on slightly bigger jeans. We’re about to enjoy an at-home date night, complete with Parks and Recreation and The Office. Happy Friday!