We’ve hit the point of this pregnancy where we’ve got just weeks to go before we hit the ol’ due date. As in single digit numbers. This worries me.
Overall, this hasn’t been a bad pregnancy. I now fully waddle. My arms and legs have shrunk considerably and I’m starting to mildly swell. Also? Hello, Crocs, my old friend. [/Newman]. I’m not retaining water the way I did with the Mini, thankfully, but bending over to tie my shoes has become more of a challenge, obviously, and given the fact that I have horrible foot problems, there’s really very few alternatives. I’m embarrassed by it, but hopefully once flip flop season hits, my feet won’t be too fat to shoehorn into a pair of Reefs. My physical therapist will be so proud.
But I’m worried more from the standpoint of going from one to two. The Mini has hit a particularly difficult phase as of late. On top of him having a cold, he’s got his two year molars coming in and I’m not sure if that’s one of the big factors of him acting like a ripe asshole, but he’s incorrigable to deal with lately. I find that as my discomfort becomes more prominent, my patience wears thinner, though, I’m trying to understand that he’s 2, and showing his independence, on top of having a mouth that probably feels af if someone is sticking hot pokers in. While he has had his lengthy moments of crankiness, he’s never been a kid to question or push back when it came to rules. I know this comes with the territory, but when you have a new baby arriving in just weeks, this is a bit frightening. When he’s sweet, it’s great, but when he’s not, forget it. It’s part of the intensity of his personality. I’m hoping the molars come in soon, because I do feel bad for him.
On top of this, he managed to sneeze on my 77 times over the course of the last week, so it was just a matter of time before I got his cold. I swear, it should be illegal for pregnant women to get colds.