How about a nice depressing post?

This first trimester thing. It sucks. Really badly.

I am having a little bit of a respite today, meaning I am only feeling constant nausea, exhaustion, and a little vertigo. That, versus endlessly feeling cripplingly nauseous, emotional, puking, shivering, falling over dizzy, & dying, is a relief.

I am nearly 7 weeks. I have a good 4 weeks to go until “the golden trimester.” 4 weeks is a long time.

Someone told me I look pregnant today. I am not even 7 weeks. My embryo is not even as big as a pea. If I look pregnant, that is because my gut is just as FAT as it has been for the 2 years since Baby’s birth.

I had an exhausting weekend. I broke down, and had to stop sobbing before I puked again. I cannot handle the simplest of tasks. I cannot eat nutritious food. I cannot work out without nearing fainting. I really do not want to be feeling this way.

It is a beautiful day. Baby is napping. It is not all that bad. Hercules babies me. He cleans the house, does the dishes, makes the kids dinner. My kids are wonderful/gorgeous/perfect/lovely. I am blessed.

But woe is me all the same.

Guess who blew out TWO candles today? My BABY!

How old are you, Baby?

“TWO!” (it takes him a while to push down enough fingers to actually make the sign for 2. But he can do it. I promise.)

Ohhhh, I love this kid. He has brought such immense joy to this family! He is one big paradox. He is a sweet, affectionate little guy one minute, and spirited little “Trouble” the next. He can be a comic entertainer or a shy momma’s boy. He loves to follow and copy his big brother and big sister, but is also so independent (”Bee Bee Do!”).

I can barely stand this profile, I love it so much.

Yesterday morning, we discovered three robins in our front yard, finding the worms that had escaped the earth after the night’s storm. Baby watched them with intense concentration. Then, suddenly, he ran to the middle of the living room and started pecking the carpet himself. “BeeBee Bird! Eat!” He was imitating the robins, his little bottom straight up in the air, his teeth biting and pulling up the carpet. I should’ve told him to stop, but it was absolutely hillarious.

When he returned to the window, there were only 2 birds. This excited him. My little genius said “Two! Two Bird!”

He watched for a bit, then ran away again. When he returned, he was carrying this piece of floor puzzle, which had two robins on it. He pointed to the robins outside, “Two Bird!” and then to the puzzle piece, “Two Bird!”

*sigh* How cute is that!?

Happy Birthday, Baby!!!

Alright, there are a lot of pictures, here. I do realize that. Considering the fact that I probably will never print them, I need to preserve the weekend this way, before the next weekend hits my camera. There’s no way around it. I am pregnant, and it is all about me. If I can find an ounce of joy amidst my cloud of nausea and fatugue, I’m going to take it, Dangit. I hope you will forgive me.

*deep breath*
*saltine cracker*

My parents-in-law live in a small rural town that has very little going on most of the time. We like it that way. But the week of St. Patrick’s Day, that all changes. There are activities every day, leading up to the big parade on Saturday. This little town officially changes its name to New Dublin every year, and hosts the largest St. Patrick’s Day parade in the state! The family has a huge party with, of course, the most DELICIOUS corned beef and cabbage stew and soda bread. mmmmmmm.

Everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day, of course. But we take great pride in our miniscule amounts of Irish blood all year round. Hercules and I are each about 1/8th Irish. Or is it 1/16th? Well, on Saturday, we were 100% Irish.

Friday night, there was a Ceili (pronounced Kay-Lee), an Irish dance. There is always a caller (?) like in square dancing, and a great Irish band, complete with pipes and fiddle and drums. Being the geek that I am, I am always reminded of the scene in Titanic. Yeah, that’s right. I am Rose dancing with Jack on the night before we all drown in the Atlantic. *sigh*

Best Daughter Ever adored it, as usual, and caught on faster than many of the adults. It really is always a fantastic time! She especially enjoyed dancing with the cute boys and the man in the kilt (her mother’s daughter, obviously). Here she is, warming up in between dances. She wants to get into Irish step dancing; she has been begging for years. Hopefully this year I’ll actually sign her up.

Cheers to Pineapple (aka #4) with Grandma!
And now we are at the parade. Last year, we sort of got into a little brawl with the tweens that stepped in front of our kids. An old lady joined our side and yelled and swore at them and their parents. I was not interested in repeating that. Accordingly, I chose our location with great care. . . a wide-open stretch of curb with little crowd. We soon discovered why this location was unoccupied. It was in the shade, on a very cold but sunny day. I received some harsh criticism for the length of the parade. “But, I’m pregnant” got old quickly. Meanos.

So were cousins R & K:
Two of the whiners, BDE and Auntie B:
Cousin R covering Dimples’ ears while the sirens go by (why do they have to have so many loud sirens anyway?) And now for my favorite part of the parade. OK, I’ll admit. I have a massive crush on the Wacky Wheeler. No kidding. It is outrageous. I secretly dream that someday, I too will have a wheel, and we will travel the country together on our wacky wheels. Alright, I guess I exaggerate a bit. But I do adore this very not-good-looking man for reasons I do not completely understand. He even wheeled behind our Girl Scout Troop in our local Christmas Parade! It think he’s following me!
Imagine my excitement when he ditched the wheel and walked in my general direction and pointed to the wheel and said “He knows his way home!” heeheeheeheeheeheehee. I giggled almost as badly as the night Jordan Knight yelled back at the NKOTB concert just to me: “I love you too!”

Ahem. Excuse me for that.
Here, Cousin K, with my encouragement, gets thrown in the Shiners’ wagon. And Dimples is comforted, yet again, when the big loud confetti-shooting canon rolled past. Thanks, Uncle B.!Hooray! Men in kilts!And to most people, Finnegan’s Wake is the climax of the parade. For me, it takes a close second to the Wacky Wheeler, of course. The beautiful green hearse was followed by a group of outrageous mourners, including the notoriously sleazy widow. She did not disappoint this year, with green fishnet stockings, a mini miniskirt, and rumors of mooning the crowd.
The hearse suddenly stops, the coffin comes flying out the back, and Mr. Finnegan pops out of the coffin, alive. His surprised mourners then beat him back into the coffin…

…and shove him back into the hearse. Wholesome family entertainment, I tell ya.
Ack! That smile! It is killer! Dimples showing off the green hair he sprouted in honor of his 1/16th-1/8th homeland, Erin.And what Spring weekend “Up North” is complete without a play in the mud at the old farmhouse?Fishing, I believe.

I must add a disclaimer to Baby, especially since he will soon be bestowed with the honor of “Middle Child.” You were sleeping during the Ceili, and napping during the parade. You did have green hairspray in your hair. And, see? There you are playing in the mud with BDE.