Coming to a Playground Near You…

Coming to a Playground Near You…

pregnant..again

…baby number two!  That’s right, folks.  Gabe is going to be a big brother!  We’re all floored (and okay.. happy) & and I am beside myself with nausea.  This is Evan’s first time around and my second, so there is a bunch of nervous-excitement buzzing around our (for now) family of three.

Right now, we’re still in our apartment trying to find a house to rent.  Which, by the way, is next to impossible.  We have until February before we have to give notice, but still.  Where are the rent houses guys (the ones that aren’t by bars or in less-desirable areas)?!  We called a realtor the other day — one that we’ve dealt with in the past — and he set us on a mission to find a home he rents out.  We were both pretty excited because:

1) we liked how he handled our business in the past and
2) we felt that he wouldn’t lead us to ghettos, shacks, shanties, etc.

My, my, my we were wrong.  It was disastrous.  At best.  So we hurriedly got the hell out of Dodge (or Hood, rather) and went home.  We’ve scoured our areas of interest only to find… nadda.  Zilch.  Zippo.  Matter of fact, one of the worst ones was listed as, “Private lot, great area, yadda yadda yadda.”  So we go look.  And just like a popped balloon, our hopes were similarly deflated.  Not only was this NOT a private lot (looked like a tiny village lived on the 8×10 piece of property), but this was in no way, shape, or form a good area.  Gandhi wouldn’t have lived there.  I mean, it was bad.

But all is not lost.  I’ve had some good friends lend a helping hand.  Matter of fact, I just got off the phone with an old friend with a good lead.  So maybe (hopefully) we’re not too far off track.  I sure hope not.  I mean, Minion #2 isn’t due to land until August, but we’d like to be moved in and (semi)settled before we’re bombarded by sleepless nights and 12, 3, and 6 o’clock feedings.  Not to mention Gabe starts pre-k in August.  sigh.  So many changes so fast!

Our little one is due the day after Gabe’s fourth birthday (August 20th/August 21st).  For something that was completely unplanned and a complete system shock, I really should have prepared better.  Or something.  ‘Cause dayumm.  August is going to be ex-pun-sive!  We’ll have school x’s two (eventually (thankfully they’re four years apart… whew)).  Birthdays x’s two.  Annual dr.’s exams x’s two.  Gahhhhh.  Not to mention that every single grandchild (well… except for two) on Evan’s side was born in what month?  AUGUST.  Chyup.  Thankfully, Gabe is the oldest and only grandchild so far for my parents.  Well.  Not including jelly bean.  My best friend’s little girl, Abi, is a year and two days younger than Gabe.  So we’ll have stair-step kids.

I’ve always been so good at planning.  Seriously… how on earth did I let that happen?  haha.

But at any rate, we’re delighted.  And terrified.  And exhausted.  And nauseated.  And craving-engrossed.  And we’re happy.  Even as poorly timed and inconvenient as this probably is and will be.  Gabe refers to my tummy as “bebe’s houzz,” which I adore.  And I, of course, in all my stupidity, can’t keep my hands off my stomach.. even though I’m not really showing yet.  I just have that irritating pooch that most pregnant women get when they’re first pregnant.  You know you’re pregnant.  Your fetus knows your pregnant.  Baby daddy knows your pregnant.  But to everyone else, you just look fat(ter).  Ahh, the joys of incubatordom.  Me and the little one?  We’re having a serious come-to-Jesus-meeting when he or she arrives.  ‘Cause this momma’s sick and tired of all that throwing up.  So it’s either play nice forever, or stick me in a good home when the time is right.  Just throwin’ that out there.  Gettin’ ready for that guilt train (woo wooo).

happy trails, mi amigos.

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