Hello.

I write to you from Louisiana. We got here on Wednesday. I feel like I just recovered from our trip down, and we’ll be loading back up in about 24 hours to return to Alabama.

Thinking about the trip home makes me want to cry. The thought of being in a car again for 6+ hours with a screaming two-year-old … I just don’t know if I can take it. Does anyone have experience with drugging their children for a car trip? I’m not kidding.

No one understands what it’s like to travel with our kid. I can’t explain it to you except to say it’s a enclosed, mobile, HELL. He has a very short attention span. Drugs are my only option.

I just took another look at the picture I put in my last post, and realized I need to hurry up and get Husband to take a better, more flattering shot. I think I need redemption.

That is all.

Today, I’m going to the Alabama DMV to renew my driver’s license.

I’m not trying to be rude, but Alabama has the most inefficient, aggravating, cumbersome DMV situation I’ve ever had to deal with. My license expired in November and I’ve been dreading this trip ever since. 

We love living here, but sometimes I miss my homeland. Louisiana was so easy, so relaxed. I feel like Alabama is an uptight white dude with too-short suspenders.

Yesterday, my dear friend Jolene emailed me about this post and said that she read somewhere that there are “major flaws” with the BMI system.

I believe her because she always seem to know things. She reads the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal. She’s informed.

I wanted to hug her.

Today we are at home because the roads are impassable. We are literally iced in. So what do I plan to do? 

I plan to make cookies, and then eat them.

Here is a list of things I will NOT be doing today:

1. Sitting in a cubicle listening to people bitch.

2. Cleaning the house.

3. Shaving my legs.

4. Getting out of my pajamas. 

5. Trying to suck in my ever-growing belly.

Words of wisdom for Friday, January 7.

I’m pregnant and I love to eat. This = a bad combination.

I was so hoping this time around I would be too sick to eat. Or maybe throw up every time I ate. That would be okay too. Either way, I was hoping not to pack on 10 pounds in my first trimester. That’s what happened when I was pregnant with #1.

So far, I’ve been a lot sicker, but it hasn’t deterred me from eating constantly. I find that snacking calms my stomach, and then I don’t throw up. I refuse to weigh myself and I told myself I wouldn’t stress about it, but as of yesterday I officially started to feel like a blimp.

I dislike the awkward part of pregnancy before you look pregnant. Just fat. I’m trying to embrace it.

Determined to prove that, even though I was a total bore the last time I was pregnant, my “condition” will not stop me from having a good time … I put on a party dress and went to a New Year’s Eve party last night.

Here is proof:

HOWEVER. Before this picture was snapped, I had on a very fancy navy blue dress that matched my husband’s tie. It took both Husband and my mother-in-law (and a pair of pliers) to zip said dress. 

The zipper burst open.

After that, I suffered a claustrophobic panic and screamed that someone was going to have to cut me out of this stupid dress and OMG what am I going to wear?! Since my stupid boobs are already so freakishly huge that this navy blue dress won’t even fit?!?!?!

That is when Husband (after shredding my dress down the back so I could remove it from my body) found the plaid dress pictured above that I wore in Chicago last month. I literally had no other choice, so I wore it. And I tried to like it.

My bitches, from left to right: Anna, Courtney, and me.

This is us. In a sea of party-goers who were wearing all black.

Typical.

I’m proud to say, I made it to midnight. I danced (sort of) under the balloon drop when the clock struck twelve. I was painfully sober, and very nauseated, but I made it to 12:15 and then I informed Husband we had to go. 

He fell asleep in the passenger seat. SO WHO IS THE BORING ONE NOW?

Please ignore the people in the background.

… I’m pregnant (again)!

Most people are hesitant to make this sort of announcement until they are out of the “risky” period of pregnancy. Not us. We are full-out telling people. We never do what you’re “supposed” to do. It works for us. We need the prayers of our families, and the health of our baby does not depend on how many people we do or do not share the good news with.

Also, it made a fun Christmas surprise to tell everyone.

After going through a miscarriage in late August, I am both terrified and excited to be pregnant again. I HAVE to believe that this baby is healthy and all will be well … I drive myself crazy with worry if I let myself even think about the alternative. 

My hypersensitivity and irrational behavior has only just begun, and Bitch Mode has started to slowly kick into gear. It’s going to be QUITE a ride. At least this time, Husband knows what to expect. The last time, I distinctly remember him yelling at me because I was “using hormones as an excuse to be a bitch.”

No … no. Not an excuse. Fact.

Poor man. He has learned the ways of womanhood since then. I can tell because he’s already being so helpful. Possibly out of fear.

I’m 31 years old now, my son has more toys than he knows what to do with, and I’m not sure I’ve fully recovered from staying in close quarters with 9+ other people. With spotty cell service, might I add.

We have lots to discuss, friends. Lots to discuss.

Just give me a day to regroup, and I’ll get to it. Chasing after this little boy for 48 hours took its toll. Probably because I’m expecting another little one. But that’s a whole other story.

In constant motion.