Kind of disappeared on you for a minute, didn’t I?
I mean, I didn’t really disappear. Because it would be really hard to make something my size disappear.
Let me summarize myself for you, since I will not be posting a belly pic or in fact any pic of any square inch of myself until I look less like…well, less like I do now. I’ll save you my attempts at a humorous description.
My ribs hurt.
My bare belly looks like a fat suit like in the movies. Except at least those things usually have belly buttons.
Mary Bullock has taken to telling everyone she sees that MY MOMMY’S GOT SPIDA VEINS. Truth.
Don’t get me started on my face. My friend Kate told me last night that I looked tan. Oh, how I wish this were a tan and not a totally unfunny side effect of pregnancy that I swear my mother hid from me on purpose so that I would actually have children one day.
When people ask me if there might be a fourth, I just have to laugh. Um, no. It’s going to take me the rest of this decade just to set my body back to rights again. My goal is to resemble the person that Lee married by the time I’m 40. It’s a tight deadline.
Let me tell you about the babies.
They’re a mess. A happy mess, but still a mess. You probably heard how they covered their room in baby powder before 6:30am on my birthday. Their high jinx never cease. I’ve not yet figured out whether they are more diabolical together or separately. When they’re working against each other, I can usually count on tears from either or both parties. When they’re working together, though, there’s usually a gigantic mess for me to clean up afterwards. Dining room walls covered in chalk drawings. A flooded bathroom floor. Bosey with painted toenails [and face and ears]. Every shoe I own dumped into the middle of my closet.
At the beginning of the summer, I thought I would go crazy if I had to break up one more fight. Instead they’ve just gotten bigger, closer, and more adept at impishness.
I think to myself that I might prefer them crying.
Except I don’t. Not really.
They’re pretty cute little imps, at least.
School starts next week, and I’m with all the other mothers who are counting down the days until I can have some peace and quiet and a clean house for a few hours a day. But I’m also going to miss them and all of their tricks.
New Baby and I will have to think of some shenanigans to get into all on our own.
Yes, that will be his first lesson.