Okay, seriously?

That post title is for Bret, who hates the sarcastic and oh-so-popular-right-now over-usage of "Seriously?" and "Really?"  The sad part is, I used to say them too but I've tried to stop now because I'm just that fabulous of a wife. 

Anyway.

The real reason for this post, and the title, is that this second round of pregnancy is out. of. control.  Take pretty much any pregnancy "thing" (except for morning sickness, because thankfully I didn't have that with Gabe and haven't this time either), and multiply it by seventeen thousand gazillion trillion, and that's how I feel.  Way more tired, way more sensitive to smell, way more picky about what I want to eat, and way way way way way more emotional.  For a girl that's all about feelings anyway, pregnancy is like having an emotion-amplifier implanted into your heart and not being told where the off button is located.  And for me, being happy or sad or sentimental or frustrated all ends up in the same outlet of expression:  tears.  Bret and I can both attest to the fact that this is both really funny and really annoying.

Here are some of the more ridiculous examples of recent emotional uprisings:

- A few weeks ago we decided to make a quick trip to Staples and Fred Meyer for a couple of things.  We're singing along to the radio and just minutes away from arriving at Staples, when suddenly ONE LINE of the song that I've just sung hits me like a ton of bricks and I am instantly crying.  Not just teary eyed, but full on hitch-in-my-throat crying.  Okay, seriously?  One line of a song is going to send me into tearful weepiness in half a second??  And then I'm both crying and laughing at myself for crying.  Poor Bret was just left sitting there not sure what to do because our fun little karaoke-fest just turned into falling-apart-pregnant-wife on him. 

- Sunday night I was watching TV before bed and flipping through the channels when I came across the end of Top Gun.  So I'm watching Iceman and Slider fighting the Migs and thinking about how they're repeating every line and wondering if pilots really do that in real life.  Then Maverick shows up to join the fight but can't get his head in the game because he's missing Goose and there's the scene where he stares at Goose's dogtags in his hand and says "Talk to me, Goose", and I tear up.     Okay .   .   .   Seriously??  Over Top Gun?  Well apparently, yes.

- Moments after the Top Gun Incident of March 2011, while I'm still snorting over the ridiculousness of what this baby is doing to me, I decide to turn to the news to distract myself.  They're talking about the first test flight of the new Boeing 747 Intercontinental that had happened that morning.  So whatever, that's interesting enough but no cause for the waterworks to start...or so I thought.  The newscasters are talking about how many orders have been placed and they're showing pictures of the pilots waving and Boeing executives shaking hands and then I hear "Hundreds came out to watch the historic event, including the press and many of the assembly line workers who've spent the past four years on the project" and then there's cheering and they show the plane lifting off.  And I tear up.

OKAY, SERIOUSLY??  REALLY?? 

It's just that all those people have worked so hard and they probably felt such a sense of pride when they saw the flight, knowing that they were a part of that...and holy cow, we have the technology to FLY, to put a thing that big up in the air and it's unbelievable and incredible and aren't people and what they can come up with just so amazing?!?

...and I'm an idiot.  I was just looking around for a picture I could put of the plane into this post and I came across this video of the flight, and started tearing up all over again.  Sheesh. 

And I have another 5 months of this to go, people. 

!!!!

Outside

Lately, Gabe begins every day roughly the same way:  wake up, eat breakfast, then start pointing and grunting at the door to the garage indicating that he wants to go outside.  Never mind that it's 40 degrees outside.  Never mind that it might be snowing or raining or windy.  Just point-grunt-point-grunt.  Bret's been home with him lately and I telework, so we take turns trying to distract him or manage his expectations (i.e. you have to get dressed first before we can go outside).  Once outside, he is content to toddle and wander around and would stay outside for hours if we'd let him.  The other day we spent 10 minutes with him picking up rocks, looking at me and saying "Ish", me telling him "Rock", and him throwing the rocks back into area lining our front walk.

For Gabe's sake, I sort of wish he was a like a dog that we could let out into the backyard to wander around on his own.  Then we wouldn't have to stand out in the cold with him.  And if we could teach him to dig holes and go to the bathroom, I wouldn't have to change any more diapers!  Have I taken this analogy too far?  Hmm...

Back on track, then.  Pictures:



Watching Bret wash the car (remember, Bret's car-washing knows no limits).



Offering me a leaf he found.



I love this picture but it's washed out and I couldn't get the contrast
to show up right via editing.



So I tried changing it to black & white - kind of a cool look.