An Update on My Sad, Stubbly Life

So the truth is I'm a big liar. Because this picture makes me look way too happy and the fact is, with K. out of town, I'm a pretty sad sack. Pajama pants, tea drinking, red-nose-sniffles, the works. 

But I DO have plans to buy a replacement razor for the one I left in VA so I can be a smooth-skinned sad sack by Thursday night, when my loved one returns (TMI? TOO BAD. GO READ SOMEONE ELSE'S BLOG. I COUGH ON YOU.)

The good news is that I am completely disconcerted by the sudden change in Annaliese's sleeping habits: just as I was getting out my cry-til-you-puke stick, she decided that yes, she could be put down for a nap, roll over, clutch her blanket, and fall asleep. Seamlessly. It's happened 3x a day (morning, noon, and night) for 3 days now and I am thrown for a LOOP. Is she just over her month-long hell trip that easily? Or did she sense that I wasn't going to come in and spend hours patting her back and walking around? I don't know, my friends, I don't know, and it ALMOST keeps me from loving the new thing, because I'm all like, if it came that easily, how can I trust it to stay? I'm keeping my cry-til-you-puke stick just in case.

I have written very little about pregnancy #2, mostly because other than that time I was nauseous before we got to Kroger and then COMPELLED to eat supermarket california rolls while STILL PUSHING the shopping cart, I haven't really felt all that pregnant. Sure, the belly's getting bigger, but then again, I ate a whole lot of chips and salsa. 

I've got my first prenatal appointment (made completely laissez-fairely last week, when I finally got around to it) next Wednesday, at which point we'll hopefully find out if El Grapo is still alive, and then I'll report more frequently on the new bebe.  Everyone seems to be rooting for it to be a boy. Personally, I'm rooting for it to be a SLEEPER. 

Thankfully, friends have invited me over to dinner tonight, so that'll get me through Monday night, and that's 4 nights down, 3 to go. K. left 2 days early to go hiking in the Zion National Park and drink beer with Nicholas, a choice I have been ENTIRELY gracious about by hissing things like "enjoy it since it'll NEVER happen again."

(sometimes I think I totally suckered K. into marrying me. I never complained about things, didn't talk all the time, and I distinctly remember beauty rituals that have fallen by the way side, like taking milk baths and scrubbing myself with brown sugar and olive oil. Although I might revive that last one, because it makes your skin feel awesome and forces you to clean the tub.)