Things I Didn't Expect

So, after a whole day of no Zofran (WORST. DAY. EVER.), I'm back on my drugs and feelin' good.  

The past 11 weeks and 6 days have been quite weird and fun and have left me with a lot of hmmmm's. 

Things I wasn't expecting about this whole baby deal: 

That when you stopped "trying" is when it happens. I HATE admitting it, but all of y'all who told me that were sooo right. I was like, whoopty doo, we'll get babied right away. Nope. Five months. Which, I know is pansy time and not long at all, but when you're trying, it's an eternity. I mean...eternity. Of course, I thought something was wrong with me and I was completely barren and woe is me and yes, I over-dramatize a lot of things (no comment from you, parental units). And after the fifth month was nearly over, I was like..."this is dumb and too stressful. I'm sooo over trying. Let's just wait on the Lord and it'll happen when it's supposed to." Which is what I was saying all along, but that was the first time I meant it. I swear, the second I let it go is when it happened...on a cruise to Bermuda. Or Charleston. 

Twins. That was a big surprise. Originally, when we thought they were fraternal, I thought, well, my great-grandmother was a fraternal twin, so maybe it skipped a generation or two. But now they're identical twins, so has nothing to do with heredity and Dr. Mac said there's a .4% (yes, point 4) chance of having identical twins naturally, so...I'm thinking lottery?? 

That I would look like a pizza. TMI, I know, but whatevs. But, I think, I THINK, it's letting up some. (fingers crossed) Y'all should see my forehead. It's like the volcanic mountains of Mordor. 

That I would not want any chocolate. (GASP!) I know, right? I don't want sweets really at all. I want sour stuff and toast. Crackers, peaches, lemonade, some cheese, the jelly I got in my hostess gift basket for Erin's shower (mother of pearl, that stuff is delicious), chicken lasagna, milk, and subs from Subway are really all I want. It's sad. I miss chocolate. Not enough to eat it, though. 

Crazy dreams! I knew that was a part of it and I've always had really vivid, imaginative dreams, but now, man, I can do all sorts of stuff. I can fly higher, there are cooler spaceships, colors are brighter, everything seems more real...wow, I sound high. I swear it's the babies. 

I'm not as mean as I thought I'd be. I'm a lot more mellow. Which, I'm sure Davey appreciates. Probably because all I've been able to do is sit waaaay back in my chair to work and make it to the couch or bed later. I don't have the energy to be grouchy. 

That I would wear pajamas every second of every day that I could get away with it and I don't even care who knows it. I am obsessed with blue jeans and I haven't worn jeans in..uhm...about two months. 

Going to bed at 7:30 pm. Poor David...I must be the most boring person ever.

Sweet Hugs waits on me hand and foot. I'm gonna be so fat. He gets everything for me. He rubs my feet. He tucks me in at night. He runs and gets stuff at the grocery store at 11 o'clock at night for me. He'll come in from the other rooms just to hand me the remote that's about 3 inches from me. He is wonderful. And no, he is not for hire. I paid good money for him. I'm keeping him. 

Wipeout wears me out. Just in the past few weeks, we have to fast forward past the super intense part of the Wipeout Zone because it makes me sooo tired and kind of sick feeling. I think my body thinks I'M running it. And watching people in the Dizzy Dummy makes me a little sick, too, which didn't before. But that's okay...it's still worth watching. Did y'all see the couple's one last week? THAT was funny. The moose guy...huh-larious! 

Anyways. That's about all I have for today. I don't really have a lot to chat about seeing as how I've been a hermit for the past month or so and I don't get out much. I'll try to take some pictures of our neighbor's new rat...ahem, sorry...dog. It's about the size of my foot and looks uncannily like Professor Ratigan from the Great Mouse Detective.