First things first.  Belly Pictures.

That little bit of pooch you see is not baby.  Just a lot of bloat and uterus.  And I’m not shy about telling people that, which could be the reason many acquaintances back away slowly when I start blabbing on about how big my uterus is.  “Seriously, grapefruit-size, Mary!  And this bloat!  OMG!”  Social skills.  Some people just have ’em, you know?

I don’t think it’s fair to only bombard you with a barrage of photos that include my pale fish belly, so I figure, it might be time to introduce you to the star of the show.  So, here’s the Bean of the Hour:

While I personally think it is quite possibly the most attractive child in the world, I recognize that I may be less thrilled if it came out with teeth.  My boobs might not be so thrilled either.

Also?  Probably doesn’t have 6 wavy pieces of hair yet either. 

But does have Tony’s eyes, I think. 

So this studmuffin or studmuffin-ette is about the size of a kumquat, according to the various baby websites that have now taken over my Google searches.  And while I appreciate that my baby has been compared to fruit sizes for the last couple weeks, it might be more exciting if I could picture how big a kumquat is.  Because, really.  When’s the last time you ate a kumquat?  Maybe should just stick to kiwis and apples – stuff normal people buy from normal grocery stores.  I’m sure Whole Foods knows how big my baby is right now, though. 

Ok, pictures are out of the way.  On to cravings.

Here is my list:

1.) Lemonade

2.) Popsicles

3.) Hot dogs

Apparently my uterus thinks it’s the Fourth of July.

No joke, I have been a freakin’ hungry, hungry hippo thus far.  I have been one of the lucky ones who has gotten away with no morning/afternoon/evening sickness, so instead of horfing it over the porcelain, I’ve been bellying up to the fridge and eating whatever happens to tickle my fancy.  Which just so happens to be anything edible.  I’ve already made it quite clear to Tony that he is to buy me cake for Valentine’s Day.  I’ve already picked out the flavor and have tried to come up with some type of plan that may enable him to get the cake early.  Because we just can’t stop thinking about the cake over here. 

Yellow cake with strawberry cream inside and buttercream frosting.  In case he doesn’t pull through.  Did you write that down?

Which leads me to my last category: the mood.

I happen to think I’ve been a perfectly calm, cool and collected pregnant woman.  I laugh in the face of mood swings – ha! 

Tony is still rocking himself in the corner, though, so maybe I might not be telling the whole truth. 

When he tried to leave to go to the gas station today, our conversation went like this:

Tony: “I’ll be right back.  I’m going over to pick up some cigs at the gas station.”

Me: “Ok.” (Noticing dirt on the wall.) “Look at this, though.  I can see fingerprints on our wall.  You need to be more careful when you come in.”

Tony: …starting to say something…

Me: “And how many times are you going to tell me you’ll clean the kitchen floor.  This shit is getting sticky.  This house is a mess.  I can’t handle this.”

Brief intermission for meltdown mode

And that’s how Tony ended up driving himself to the looney bin instead of the gas station.  Annnnnd fin.