It’s been two months since I’ve written, which isn’t a big surprise. I read a lot of blogs, but can’t seem to find time to actually sit down and concentrate on grown-up words for more than five minutes at a time. I am truly amazed at the mothers who blog regularly and successfully. AND home school. What’s that about? I love time management tips as much as the next mama, but that’s just plain talent.

Ahem.

So, what’s new with me? Well, let’s see. The boys are about to start summer vacation (pray for me), the big brother is about to start swim team (pray for me), and little brother is still 2 1/2 (pray for me…a lot). Oh, and this other little thing -of no great importance really, but probably worth mentioning. I’m kind of 13 weeks pregnant.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. No, seriously.

Three exact days after my last entry was the day my REALLY adorable niece was baptized. We went down for the service and a little southern barbeque lunch afterward, where I proceeded to partake of every single item. I looked at my plate after I sat down and said to Sugar Daddy, “I hope you’ll eat what I don’t finish, because OBVIOUSLY I have taken more than I can actually eat. I think it was about five minutes later when, noticing that I had finished the ENTIRE plate of food, that I said, “What the hell? I’m actually still hungry! What is wrong with me? I haven’t eaten like this since I was”…yeah…pregnant.

I really didn’t think about it until later that afternoon. I was in a dressing room, trying on clothes when I looked at my face in the mirror. For there, in that unbelievably unflattering, greenish/yellowish tinted dressing room light, I noted the absence of a visitor that I had grown accustomed to seeing exactly once a month. The big Bertha-sized ZITOLA that is usually smack in the middle of my chin wasn’t there. Nor did it feel like it was about to appear. That was the red flag. Well that, and my behavior at the barbeque lunch that we can just compare to a good old fashioned pig slopping.

I tore into a Walgreens, bought the stick, and Jeff Gordoned my way home.

And there, in the downstairs bathroom, within milli-seconds of washing my hands, were the two lines.

Holy Mother of All Things Insane.

Upstairs, Brian had just come in from putting the boys down for the night. He looked like hell, I have to say. My little sweethearts had apparently been in a mood and been a little harder to handle than normal.

“Those are your children,” he said to me with his head on the back of the couch and his eyes closed.

“Well,” I said in the sugariest voice I could find, “they’re good kids, you know.”

“Not tonight, they’re not,” he groaned.

“Oh…try to find something positive about it all,” I said in my candy cane voice.

Quickly sitting up, Sugar Daddy looked at me intently with that crinkle between his nose and just held his stare for a few seconds

“Oh my God, you’re pregnant.”

The cheery sunshine tone in my voice just totally tipped him off that something was definitely up with me.

So, here I am – 13 weeks, 2 days. I really should have started blogging about it a long time ago. It’s fun to journal your pregnancy – plus nothing is funnier than a pregnant Margie. Just don’t expect the sunshine voice to come out anytime soon. 🙂