We're hoping it's a pony

Oops we did it again. It is about that time, after all. That SEVEN YEAR stretch of time when divine intervention takes over and it is determined that once again I shall bear a CHILD. Yes, that's right. We're pregnant. [Using the word WE as opposed to I or ME seems to bring me some level of mild consolation that this is not just happening to me. Oh no. It is most definitely happening to my husband, too. I will be sure to keep him very apprised of that fact.] It's funny. When you google "every seven years," all sorts of things come up like "Your body and personality change every seven years," or "It is true that all cells in the human body are replaced over a period of roughly seven years," and on and on. Perhaps there really is something to having your children 7 years apart. And, while I wasn't quite 21 when I had Whitney, I was, in fact, 28 when I had Cameron. Seven years later, I will be 35 when I deliver Baby X. Definitely food for thought...

In any event, part of me is so relieved to know that my waistline was not just growing uncontrollably due to what was my insatiable craving for FOOD. Another part of me, however, is freaking out at the fact that I'M HAVING ANOTHER BABY. When I will be THIRTY-FIVE. And, when my already "babies" are going to soon be turning 7 and 15, respectively. Honestly, what have WE done?

I still have no foolproof evidence of how far along I am. I mean, I figured I would at least be 14 weeks at this point given when my OB refused to refill birth control script back in March all because I missed an appointment with him. [Really Mr. OB? I blame YOU completely for this situation, don't be surprised when I call and ask you to babysit.] However, the ultrasound that I had said that I was only 7 and 1/2 weeks then. Thus, I'm only 11 weeks now. My profile, however, says differently. I mean, at the rate I am showing, I'm convinced it's going to be a PONY. I've heard that women show more quickly with each pregnancy, but it's been SEVEN years since the last one for crying out loud. I should not look THIS pregnant when I'm barely out of my first trimester. At this rate, it scares me to imagine what I will look like at 9 months.

With the expanding waistline, I have also been having a horrible case of "baby brain". I'm doing things that make no sense whatsoever. For starters, I can't seem to spit words out of my mouth in a coherent fashion and I'm having extreme difficulty choosing and then committing to which word to say even once I start saying it. As a result, I've been blending words together and have been caught speaking this gibberish on numerous occasions in the process. For example, when responding to a salesperson's question I had wanted to say either "cool" or "perfect," but instead I exclaimed "pool!" I pretended it didn't happen. At lunch when the server asked me how everything was going, I couldn't decide between "well" or "good," so I blurted out "wood!" He pretended it didn't happen. And so on and so forth.

To add to that, I have been demonstrating a superior level of clumsiness. For instance, when driving, and on no less than three occasions thus far, I have mistaken the gas pedal for the brake pedal and when I had anticipated quickly stopping, I have instead punched the gas and revved my engine, lurching the car forward. I can't even tell you how awesome it is to do that. I have also been running into things. Knocking things over. Hitting myself with my own hands in the eye, face, chest, etc. And, for the first time in my seven years of employment with Chiacchia & Fleming, I LOST an expense check and had to ask for a replacement.

Last, but not least, I'm pretty sure that I've been mistakenly substituting hairspray as a facial astringent for the last two weeks. Which reminds me: Don't ever assume that you can transfer liquids into unmarked three ounce containers that comport with airline carry-on rules and then remember what those liquids are three months later. Chances are that you, too, would confuse hairspray for facial astringent, which you would then proceed to rub on your face with a cotton ball morning and night, neverminding the odd smell and strange burning sensation. Of course, my first thought upon realizing this was -- is it safe for a pregnant woman to rub hairspray all over her face twice a day?? Holy crap, there are just too many things to think about.

So, yes. We're having a baby. It's exciting and chaotic and INSANE all at the same time. And, we can't wait.

I had the occasion to explain the concept of divorce to my 6-year old son last night as I was dicing up zucchini, yellow pepper and mushrooms to add to my lasagna's super awesome ricotta cheese mixture. This conversation arose as I was explaining that I was making the lasagna and baking brownies for my father because his wife passed away. Cameron gasped, "Grandma Debby DIED?" I couldn't get the words out fast enough to explain that my mom was still alive and well, "No, no babe. My dad was married to a woman named Kathy. My parents got divorced when I was 17."

"Di. Vorced?" He enunciated skeptically, "what's that mean?" I responded, "It means that two people who were married, aren't married anymore." He wrinkled his nose and pressed, "Why wouldn't the two people want to be married anymore??" I blurted out something along the lines of: "Sometimes people don't love one another anymore. Sometimes they can't get along. I don't know Cam, there are a lot of reasons I suppose."

Then Cameron proceeded to say the most adult-like thing in the most adult-like voice that I think I've ever heard him speak: "When I get a girlfriend, I think I'm just going to just marry her. Because I don't wanna have to go through it all over again, ya know? Like your cousin Caitlin, she got a boyfriend and married her boyfriend and that's what I'm gonna do."

I'm not sure what he meant by "go through it all over again," especially since he's 6 and he is lacking a little bit in the life experience department. However, he said it with such an old soul and with such conviction that I couldn't help but want to be his biggest cheerleader in that regard -- even though the common sensical me wants to remind him to "shop around," travel, go to college first, etc., etc. I also can't help but love the fact that he wants to grow up and be married (yay! Brian and I despite our moderate level of dysfunction haven't ruined the idea of marriage for him. Whew!). And, not to mention that he wants to be married to just ONE girl FOREVER. How awesome is that? It's SO awesome.

Afterward, when Brian and I were chatting about this conversation, he told me that Cameron told him earlier that he had revealed his feelings to the little girl Ella at his school that he has a crush on. Apparently Cam walked up to her and said, "I have a crush on you." At which point he smiled and then she smiled. When Brian asked him what he did after that, Cameron responded, "Uh, I went and sat back down Dad." Like, DUH. What ELSE do you do after you tell someone you have a crush on them.

I'm in love with the way this kid thinks.