My tummy isn’t happy. It revolted last night, in a revolting mess. One of those times when I reverted back to everything that I know about this world, and even thought, “I hope I’m not pregnant”. Which is, of course, not at all true. I want to be pregnant more than anything else in the world, because I cannot wait to hold a lovely baby, made by yours truly and the loving hubby, and nurture it until it revolts against me, at age 17 (please, let it not be any earlier).
That said, I have a weak stomach and a penchant for throwing up if I’m the least bit nauseated. And if I’m going to toss my cookies every night (and think about it in the morning, and every other time that I eat), I’m not sure that’ll be good for me, or any potential buns in my oven.
So here’s the thing. I kind of hope that this is the flu. Or food poisoning. And when I DO get pregnant, there won’t be any of that nausea stuff to keep me from buying everything in the Pottery Barn Kids catalog.
But if this IS “the real deal” bring it on. Because I happen to like ginger tea and saltines. And I cannot wait to love on a baby. Bring.It.ON.