Baby fever that is.
Seriously no joke, everyone I know is pregnant or has a baby. Like a little baby, not a toddler baby. Then there is me.
I want another baby so bad I can just smell the newborn scent and it is so overpowering.
Logically I know right now is not the time for another baby, we always said we would wait until Boris ranks up before we have another. And I recently really started to get serious about getting fit. I would really like to be in decent shape before I get pregnant again, which kind of sounds dumb but I hear it’s easier to shed the baby weight if you are in shape. Not that I had trouble last time, but you never know. I was 22. Things might be different next time.
Add to that the friends and family members asking when baby #2 is coming along. I’m like IT’S NOT ME IT’S BORIS. Which is pretty much true. I would get knocked up right now. And be happy. He is not having it.
Then I remember this:
The size of my feet, and the fact that I couldn’t reach them to paint my toenails. I hate nothing more than unpainted toenails. And this was more than 3 weeks out from my due date.
So I try to remind myself it’s my biological clock and not me that wants to be pregnant. It’s not working very well. But I’m trying.
I can’t even be like “Krista, remember how much it sucked waking up all the time for the baby?” because she was sleeping through the night pretty early on. And she was an easy baby. So I have no way to talk myself out of it.
At least I will be able to drink this summer?