Let me start this post with the punch line: I am NOT pregnant.
So, where have I been lately? Hiding out and watching stupid tv while eating chocolate? Nope. Partying all night at a wild variety of European Discotheques? Nope. Taking my children to a different educational location each day before nap and providing a themed and planned craft activity after nap? No way.
I’ve been sick. I shall spare you the specifics. I’ll just say that it was easier to throw some things away than clean up.
My symptoms: nausea, fatigue, general shakiness, food aversions, loss of appetite, strange cravings for mozzarella cheese sticks and cherry cokes
(In case you didn’t know: When I was pregnant with Peanut, I craved cherry cokes and cheese sticks.)
I’ll be honest: I felt a bit disappointed when I saw the minus sign on the pee stick. Sure, this would be horrible timing for another kid. (No, I’m not going to start trying for one. Grandparents, no need to panic!) But, babies are cute. And, I’m not getting any younger. If I want another kiddo, I can’t wait until all of the stars are aligned and the hub has finished his schooling + internship and we have more money and we have a house and my business is thriving and I’ve lost all of my weight and am back to a single-digit size that I haven’t been since 2003. Sigh. I digress.
To be honest, the biggest reason I was disappointed that I wasn’t pregnant:If we had another kid, the school would let us move into a bigger apartment. Oh, the square footage! The higher ceilings! The extra two bedrooms! All worth a little financial instability and a screaming newborn, right? Sigh…
I’m considering faking the test and shoving Bean’s playground ball up my shirt to apply for new housing. I wonder if it’ll work…..