Locusts - pshaw. My mosquitoes can carry your locusts away. We have mosquitoes. Not just at dusk, either. We have bold, brazen, daytime biting mosquitoes. There are skeeters everywhere. Chuckles was in the grass for 22 seconds and came out nibbled to death. There are mosquitoes in the car, on the front door, covering the grass, in the bushes, lurking in the shadows just waiting to do me harm. And yet, few of them are biting me. The Man and the Boy are being eaten alive, but preggo lady is happily unaffected (mostly, and in comparison).
I have given up cutting the grass. I have also decided that the toenails I painted for the wedding last weekend are the last toenails I will be painting until December. Further to that I got an ingrown hair below the Mason-Dixon line and I had to get out a hand mirror to see it. Apparently, the Battle of the Bulge has been lost and the Baby won. 5 pounds of baby sticking straight out in front. As in, perpendicular to my body.
I have a long torso. I cannot wear a one-piece bathing suit without digging my suit out of my derriere for the entire day. Consequently, there is a large amount of space between the bottom of my (totally ample but well-supported) rack and the start of my Bulge. People keep asking me if I have dropped. Nope. Haven't dropped. I just keep my babies between my knees. I carry low. Low, low, low. I'm sitting here right now (slightly reclined) and my baby is resting on my thighs. It's an icky, gross feeling but the baby leaves my internal organs and my lungs alone, so I can't complain.
We switched to digital broadcast TV a few months back and the switch has left me with spotty ABC coverage. So, I was watching Grey's Anatomy last night while ignoring pleas for a 4th bedtime story, and Christina and Meredith were talking or fighting or something outside, the screen froze for a bit, and the next thing I know there was a giant icicle in Christina's abdomen. OK, then. I turned the TV off shortly after that because it would be too entirely frustrating to try and watch that. At least Chuck is on NBC (on Monday after 9 months of hiatus).
Chuckles is embracing all that is 3. He is three. And so good at being three. We got a report from school yesterday and he pounded (repeatedly) on a classmate who would not give up a toy. He had to be removed bodily. While in the Director's office, he was screaming full on at her. She noticed his tonsils are swollen (I'd thought so too and asked the ped and was told he has big tonsils that don't seem to cause a problem), and was quite concerned. So, my kid is a menace who may or may not have unusually large tonsils. And he's coming in to his bad behavior right before I bring a new baby home. Great. Good timing there.
When Chuckles eats his green beans or stays dry overnight, I tell him "Good Job!". I made myself a little bowl of ice cream the other night. He asked me where it went. I replied that I had eaten it and was finished. I was rewarded with, "Good Job, Mommy!"