Tuesday, February 28, 2012


Sometimes you plan for things in life and everything turns out pretty great.

Sometimes you don't plan for things and everything still turns our pretty okay.

And sometimes you plan for things and Heavenly Father says, "Nope. Sorry. I like my plan better."

And you end up with things like this:

In case it's not crystal clear, that's a baby. And it's not Sydney.

At the beginning of this year, I planned to lose 150 pounds. I planned on fitting into pre-pregnancy clothes. I planned to go to the beach this summer in a normal bathing suit. I planned to run some sort of race with my sister. I planned to start tanning again [don't judge me]. I planned on playing more sports. I planned on doing some awesome activities for Jericho's and my 30th birthday celebrations, to include paintballing, bouncy castles, and zip lines. I planned to backpack through Europe. I planned to go on a cross country roller coaster tour. [Maybe those last two weren't actual plans.]

But instead this year, I will be planning for baby #2, due September 17, 2012. A mere 14 months after baby #1.

So here we go. We are super excited. A little overwhelmed. But still excited. I asked Sydney if she was ready to be a big sister and she seemed pretty cool with it. I'm 11 weeks along and so far, it's been a bit of a bumpy ride. My pregnancy with Sydney was way easy. This one so far has been a little harder. Not much, but enough that I want to whine and complain a lot and have someone scratch my back and make me food that doesn't make me nauseous. And since I'm still playing the single mom thing, I whine and complain to Sydney which doesn't provide as effective results. She usually just looks up at me [since I tend to make weirdo noises when I cry. I am not a graceful crier] and smiles or blows raspberries. She still takes it pretty easy on me and that's enough.

I am currently in great awe of mothers who are pregnant while caring for multiple children. All I want to do is sleep and eat toast and ice cream but my agenda alone no longer matters. The beauty of it is that it helps keep my mind off the tough stuff. I get to play with my happy baby all day and marvel at how on earth I can have another child as cool as this one. Which I will, no doubt.

I'll be honest, I'm a little hesitant to tell people about this pregnancy, like it conveys a certain amount of irresponsibility. Who has babies 14 months apart!? Ya know who? Teen moms that haven't figured out birth control. [But at least my babies will have the same father...] And I feel like people are holding back jokes. Come on. Be inappropriate. I can take it. I need the laughs.

It'll be so cliche when Jericho comes home [date TBD]. I'll be hugging my military husband at the airport with one baby on my hip and a giant tummy evidence of the one on the way. Perhaps the new baby's initials should be R & R.

And just for fun, here is the video I sent to the family to announce the pregnancy.

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