22 Weeks

How far along: 22 Weeks

Gender: BOY!

Weight gain: -11 lbs.  I lost 18 lbs in the first trimester thanks to my best friend, nausea.  I've gained 7 of it back thanks to my new best friend, frosting.

Maternity clothes: Oh yes.  I have a few shirts that aren't maternity still trying to cover the belly for dear life.  Give it another few days or few donuts and they will begin to fail miserably.  I'm wearing the crap out of maternity leggings and jammies.

Stretch marks: Just the old ones from when I was growing Felix.

Belly button in or out: In...ish.  And weird looking.  I can no longer hide things in there.  On the plus side, it's a great time to clean all the lint out.

Sleep: Excellent!  Pregnancy produces wickedly vivid dreams.  Which is fine, unless they're nightmares.  I'm so done waking up thinking I've given birth to a clown or velociraptor.

Best moment this week: Baby kicking me after a particularly bad dream.  As if to say, "It's okay, Mom.  I'm here!" 

Worst moment this week: Running out of cream cheese.

Miss anything: Reisling.  

Movement: Baby boy started this thing where it feels like he gets a running start and rams his tiny shoulder into my uterus like he's trying to bust down a locked door.

Cravings: Maraschino cherries, cream cheese, Taco Bell chicken quesidilla, pears

Queasy or sick: All is well unless I run across a particularly bad smell.  Coffee, gasoline, doody.

Mood: Like, just one?  Is that possible?  I'm usually pretty happy with bouts of blind rage and Downton Abbey-induced weeping.

Looking forward to: Our mini-vacay coming up in Mid-March.  The weather turning nice so we can play outside with Felix and the dogs.

Forever Home

Dear Floyd,

Welcome to our family.  Welcome to your forever home. We are so glad you're here.

As you sat in the car on the way to the vet yesterday, you kept looking at me like "Are you getting rid of me? Am I going away? Where am I going?"

Well, sweet guy, you're not going anywhere except back home with me, back to snoozing on your pillow in front of the fire or at the feet of your new humans.  Back home.

It's not a perfect home. But it's pretty damn close. It's loud at times.  There's a lot going on. Some real goofballs live here and even more come over.  There are dice rolling all over the place, a rambunctious kid, one big-eared dog, spills and messes.  But it's my favorite place to be. There's lots of love and laughter, random dance parties and superhero flying and crayons and hugs. It's our home.

I know, since you were a possibility to come live with us, that I've been kind of quiet on what I think or how I feel about you. And it's not because I don't love you. It's because I do.

I was wrong. I was beyond wrong about you. I'm rarely so wrong, so you can imagine my shock. I thought this would be a disaster.  I didn't think I would like you, much less love you. I mean, on paper, I think we sound a little nuts.

We have a 2 year old.
Another baby coming.
Let's adopt a shelter dog.

And, on paper, we might be a little nuts.  I worried about you.  Not because of your breed or your size (you 60.5 lb baby). Not because of Indy or Felix. simply because we didn't raise you. We don't know you.  It really worried me.

But in the real world, the world where Christi is (occasionally) wrong, it may have been the best decision we've made in a while.

You are the sweetest, calmest, happiest, laziest dog I've ever met. You've made such a difference in the few short weeks you've been here.  I can't imagine this house without you and your giant, flat head.  Everyone you meet loves you.  You are the poster dog for pitbulls.  And the reason I'm sitting sitting in front of a giant plate of delicious words, eating them until I puke. Nom, nom, nom.  

You fit right in.  I think you'll do just fine.

Felix and his new best friend.

Welcome home, sweet boy.

Love,

Christi

(BTW, I'm fully aware dogs can't use computers or read.)