Another pup

  I had several cute ideas for this post (because I'm on Pinterest, and Pinterest has several cute ideas for anything you could possibly imagine). But I'm so ill, I'm just not up to making a cute family photo to announce the fact that I'm pregnant.

Actually, I did see a hilarious announcement in which the husband and son stood smiling outside the open bathroom door while the mom's head was buried in the t-o-i-l-e-t with the caption "We're expecting!" and while that is closer to reality, meh. I limit my exposure to toilets.

I could easily take a photo of the positive pregnancy test, but that implies urine, so I'm going to skip it. "One doesn't speak of such things," Meg says to Jo March when she comes home from New York to find her sister several months pregnant with twins. That's kind of how I feel about it. I mean, it's The Miracle of Life, and I'm all about that, but these kinds of announcements suggest things like Doing the Nasty and then in a few months, Doing the Nasty Childbirth.

So to change the subject to more kosher things, I'll let you know what Ethan has to think of this.

We told him I had a baby in my tummy (call us pedestrian, but I don't particularly care if my 4-year-old knows the term "uterus," I mean we're not raising Doogie Howser here), and quite shockingly it didn't take long before he asked questions.

"Mommy, how does the baby get out of your tummy?"

"Um...the doctor."

"But, how?"

"Uh...the doctor, ummm...it's....a mystery, actually."

"Oh."

After that he surmised the doctor must have some sort of special tool, and while I could have affirmed that under certain circumstances, yes that's true, I'll just let the mystery stand.

He also has an opinion on the baby's gender: "Mommy, I want a girl sister."

"But what if it's a boy?"

"Hmm. Just ask the doctor for two babies."

I've been nauseated 24/7 for the past several days (I mean, I even wake up during the night feeling nauseated), so that sucks. Ethan wanted me to get up and escort him to the potty yesterday, and he offered to hold in my tummy to help me feel better. We walked down the hall with his hand over my abdomen.

"That baby sure is getting big!" he said. "You're tummy's like a watermelon." Disconcerting, since I'm only 7 weeks.

"I love you Mommy. I'm glad you have a baby in your tummy," he said to me the other day. Before asking me if he could stay up and watch the baseball game.

I let him.