Morning sickness has reared its ugly head.
I knew it was a ticking bomb. With the girls, at week 6 1/2 or 7... WHAM. It hit me like a whacked out bird hits a glass door. (Why has this happened to me THREE times? I hate picking up those tiny, lifeless dead birdy bodies. In fact, I always chicken out and call the neighbors to do it or wait until Gary's home. Everytime it's happened, he's been out of town. Go figure. I digress.)
So far I haven't puked, but I've had a couple of close calls. Sneezing triggers it every time.
Plus I'm exhausted. Totally, completely exhausted. Yesterday afternoon, I told the girls they could watch one quick show (luckily I had 1/2 a Curious George recorded) and then it was naptime. Basically, I couldn't keep my eyes open another second and needed that 15 minutes to rest my eyes. I zonked out. Emma woke me up to tell me it was over. I'm so glad God is helping me to watch these girls while I'm napping.
And emotional? Oh gosh! Does the "Between the Lions" theme song make anyone else cry? Yeah. Probably not.
I'm so pregnant.