Things I want to remember

The pregnancy in some ways is flying by. I'm 24 weeks now - past the half way mark, and really and truly looking at all we have to do and thinking it will never ever get done in time.

I'm pretty much totally over the nausea - unless I forget to eat and then it comes back to remind me.  But not being tethered to my Zofran is absolutely awesome.  I'm exhausted, but obviously not as exhausted as I'd be if I was still vomiting all the time.  My waist line is GONE baby GONE.  I'm carrying this child wide - not in an adorable basketball like I remember carrying the girls (this is in memory only though - I have no photographic proof), but instead like a tire, wrapped all the way around me. My feet hurt and my legs hurt already - and I'm pondering how soon I can get away with flip flops at the office.

We scheduled a special ultrasound to determine gender and took our girls with us.  As we waited, F asked our girls if they knew how the dr would be able to tell if it was a boy or a girl.  Drama looked at him like he was crazy and said "Uh yeah dad. I got this".  Mischief was less sure.  F pulled her onto his lap and asked, "Sweetheart, what do little boys have that little girls don't have?"  She thought for a moment and then her eyes got wide. She looked up at him and said "Cooties!"

The ultrasound tech found Cooties.  We are having a boy.  James Rucker Anderson.  Writing that makes me tear up - a boy.  Our two girls are perfect and wonderful and everything we've ever wanted, but imagining F holding his son . . .teaching his son to play baseball. .to fish. . to be a man.  I can only imagine it will change F in the way that my daughters have changed me.

I'm also terrified. I know nothing of boys.  I fear my bathrooms may never be clean again.

Drama is my worrier. She has worried about me from so very early in the pregnancy.  We had to tell her when I was only 7 weeks along because I was so sick and she was so so worried.  And since then, in her prayers at night she has asked God to make mommy feel better and to keep the baby safe and healthy.  She loves to put her hands on my stomach and feel him kick. Recently she saw my stomach move with his kick and thought that was the coolest thing ever. She has declared she will teach him how to fight.

Mischief is less sure how she feels about having a brother. She is pretty sure boys are wild and crazy (which is more hysterical given how wild and crazy SHE is).  I have told her she can teach him how to be sweet. But she asks me daily if he was kicking today, how he is doing, when he will get here. 

She also asked me to swallow a 4" diameter toy ball. . .so that "Rucker had something to play with".

I have wild fits of nesting where I wipe down the baseboards with clorox wipes and get rid of every extra thing that isn't tied down.  Followed by hours of total laziness, where I want nothing more than a pedicure and a nap.

F has been fabulous with this - letting me do whatever it is my hormones tell me to do, not complaining about the weeks where all I wanted to eat was soup, followed by the weeks where all I wanted to eat was hot peppers.  Occasionally I've just fallen into bed at 6 pm and he has taken care of everything (dinner, homework, dishes, laundry, bedtime) while I slept like the dead.  He sent me flowers at work last week. . .just because.

Rucker kicks almost constantly - and every night at 4 am he wakes me up with his kicking. I'm sure this will mean a 4 am feeding when he gets here. 

Things I will forget if I don't write them down. Things I want to remember.