Not much to report here. My body has approached the Ewok stage of pregnancy; I’m fairly disgusted with it. But, as eating is no longer about being hungry but rather about managing my nausea, and as managing my nausea involves consuming copious amounts of juice and candy every day, I’m kind of at the mercy of my hormones. I really really REALLY hate being pregnant. Have I mentioned that yet?
In cheerier news, we got our Christmas tree last weekend.
While most of us were busy dreaming of a white Christmas, Rocco, apparently, was dreaming of a wet Christmas.
(Picture taken seconds after Rocco yelled, “ME WANT GO HOME GO POTTY!”)
All that pant-wetting, of course, made him rather thirsty.
And when one of my boys gets thirsty (or gets anything, for that matter), the other one has to get it too.