Another work “week” is winding down for me - looks like this afternoon I’ll be trudging through someone’s file cabinets in an effort to whittle down my huge bill that we are trading on. Hey, whatever it takes to become debt-free. That sounds almost anti-American.
Lily is trying to talk these days - mom swears she said “milk” and “grandma” yesterday, but neither Mike or I are buying it. At least the grandma part. She barely says “mama”! Regardless, she is trying - I’ll give her credit. We say a word, and she attempts to repeat it back. Usually it sounds like she’s blowing a raspberry at us, but I think the intent is there. I’m not overly anxious for her to start speaking, considering her favorite word is “no” and her favorite gesture, when annoyed, is to start slapping at me, a table, a ball, or whatever tends to be in her way at the moment. I’ve got the beginnings of a teenager on my hands! Since the “terrible twos” have started early, I’m hoping that means she’ll be over it by the time Child Number Two arrives.
Speaking of “dos”, as Mike and I fondly refer to Child Number Two, I’m having one of those months where I question my sanity. I remind myself regularly that I fear my abilities as a mother mostly because I’m so ridiculously tired when pregnant. Looking in the mirror makes me break out in hives - most women grow out when pregnant. My entire body widens. I feel like a wall with legs most of the time. Kidney stones, bladder infections and puking aside, I’m just not a pretty picture of a pregnant woman. Someone told me recently that I was “glowing” - I about died. It was probably just the light reflecting off my hormonally-activated pimples. I have many honest friends who are also mothers, and all of them have admitted to questioning what they were doing when getting ready for Number Two. All of us at one time or another have said, “Why am I doing this to myself? Child One is sleeping through the night, eating, and will possibly be out of diapers soon. So I had to go and screw it up. More breastfeeding - more sleepless nights - more looking like a giant spit up rag.” These same friends reassure me that when Number Two arrives, all of those complaints are forgotten, and faith is blind, so I’m trusting that I will be able to rise to the occasion and be a good mother to Dos.
And no, we’re not seriously considering naming the baby Dos. Dos Del Bueno? Let’s get a little more ethnic sounding, shall we?
Speaking of names, if you have any good ideas, please email them our way - .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address). Girls names are easy - Mike and I agree on many of those, but there was not a single boys name we both liked. We find out the sex of Dos on June 3, so I’ll post on the blog when I get home from the ultrasound.
