My lands it has been a while. I've been busy . . .not doing much honestly. Gestating wildly. My stomach now hangs over my pants in an alarming rendition of beer gut. I bump into things with it and also my boobs which are . . . well huge judging by how J's eyes occasionally widen when I taken my shirt off.
J has taken to telling people that I am getting big which may be true if I were not pregnant but it's only going to get bigger and sadder from here. The glee with which he forwarded a FRIGHTENING belly pic of a friend of our's wife is the best reason so far that we will be taking pictures of that nature of me. Because he is already telling people that I am a fatty and I don't need photographic proof floating around.
I see people looking at me and they are clearly trying to decide if I just do not have the decency to suck it in or if I am pregnant. I suspect all doubt will be removed here pretty quickly but it's a little weird.
This weekend we went to my pal L's son's first birthday party. When I say we I mean my mom and I because J is a big fucking baby about going to social events that do not revolve around him. This actually worked well because I hadn't seen my mom in a month and we chatted away and contemplated stealing the guest of honor who was just so damn cute.
I felt bad though, because as the only white people there we were clearly freaking the guests out. People kept checking on us, trying to get us to eat more, fretting about whatever. I hate being the stressful guest, especially since we were so happy.
Of course if they had wanted to hand over baby O as a party favor I think my mom would have accepted gladly. And run like hell.