I'm a moper today. Mopeus Maximus. Mope-osaurus Rex.
I don't really have anything new to report. Still feeling sick. Spent this morning trying not to throw up. Spent yesterday morning actually throwing up. Trying not to feel too discouraged when people tell me "Oh, I never had morning sickness!" Curled up in the fetal position on the sofa with the dog, alternately napping, watching a movie, and sleeping. Hoping I'll feel well enough to shower in the next couple hours.
You know, the norm.
I think Baby Rice is a boy. As much as we want a little girl, I think I'm having a boy. And I'm great with that. Although the sweet little dresses that I guiltily bought a year ago that I've been hiding in my closet would look a bit silly on a him.
Still feeling disconnected. Disconnected from Husband because he has no idea what I'm going though and how I'm feeling, and I don't think he really makes an effort to understand. If he understood, he would not make angry noises in the morning about the fact that his clean boxers are still in the dryer instead of put away in his drawer. Disconnected from Baby because I don't know anything about it; it doesn't talk to me, and it doesn't like when I sing to it, and it doesn't move or anything. Disconnected from life because I went to the store yesterday and felt like the least fashionable person there, and when you are in American Eagle being helped by a very fashionable gay guy who dresses like a model, you don't want to feel like a fat frump. I'm ready to be done with hormones and fat tummies and stinky kitchens and Saltines, and I would kill for a Diet Coke. Matter of fact, I think I would feel about a billion times better if I just had a Diet Caffeine-Free Coke right now. Can I just get a stocking full of that this Christmas?