I'm thinking I had forgotten just how extremely glamorous pregnancy is. After a recent trip to my doctor I came home with old lady tan support stockings (toe to thigh no less) for my gorgeous varicose vein on my left calf (courtesy of pregnancy number 1) and Haemorrhoid cream, you know just in case, Nice.
I'm thinking it wasn't worth attempting to win some Mothering Award by sending my kids to preschool at different times of day. Just so I could have quality time with each. I could be having 9 extra quality hours of sleep a week. Surely that's of far more import than quality time.
I'm thinking I shouldn't have read Marley & Me while I was pregnant. The demise and death of that dog had me literally cowering behind the sofa sobbing uncontrollably hoping the kids wouldn't see me so upset. Also Rob's untimely arrival home had me rushing to the bathroom to ferociously splash my face with cold water in an attempt to hide my ridiculous hysterics. (He would never understand he's never owned a dog, he's of the opinion it's just a dog).
I'm thinking that this pregnancy may have cured (fingers tightly crossed) the natural disaster which is my hair. My effortlessly poker straight chocolate tresses that started growing intermittent frizzy patches during my pregnancy with Eli seem to be correcting themselves. (In hindsight I should have known he was gonna be a handful when he managed to singlehandedly ruin my hair from the confines of my uterus).
I'm thinking after experiencing the joys of morning sickness for the first time with this pregnancy that if this pregnancy introduces me to the further joy of stretch marks for the first time also that baby number 3 will officially be my least favourite child. Forever.
And finally I'm thinking now that I'm halfway done that I can't wait to find out what this little nipper is.
Good job I have my ultrasound TOMORROW!!!
Watch this space people.