Take a good look at this face. . . . THIS boy is causing me SO many problems right now.
He’s responsible for my nightly insomnia.
He’s responsible for the crazy pregnant taste buds that have overtaken my life.
He’s the reason I’ve had to purchase a new wardrobe to adequately cover my expanding belly . . . .and hips . . . and butt . . . and thighs. (sigh)
It’s HIS fault that my emotions are a rollercoaster for everyone who lives in this house . . . and it’s his fault that I’m pretty much insane right now.
(‘Tis true — I sobbed over one of Mr. Boy’s dirty diapers last week. Insane, I tell ya.)
But, the worst is that HE’S the reason I can’t adequately prepare for the birth of Numero Three.
- I can’t pick out the baby’s bedding.
- I can’t pick out a cute “coming home” outfit.
- I can’t settle on ONE name and start talking to the baby using that name.
- I can’t get the kidlets ready for a baby sister . . . or a brother. And, since the Little Lady will ONLY accept a little sister (based on numerous conversations with that three year old opinionated girl), she’s gonna have a hard time if it turns out to be a boy.
In other words, that fuzzy headed boy is the reason I can’t get a simple “It’s a boy” or “It’s a girl” at next week’s anatomy scan.
He’s so mean . . . just because HE likes surprises doesn’t mean everyone does!
A few days ago, some devious thinking entered my crazy preggo brain. WHAT if I found out the gender, on my own, but DIDN’T tell Hubby?
Would that be wrong?
I could go to one of those private scan places . . . plunk down my payment . . . and quench my thirst for gender knowledge once and for all.
It sounds sooooooooooooo tempting.
But, then there’s the whole lying to my husband thing . . . (sigh) morals can be so inconvenient at times.