It's all about the Boobs

So, yesterday was one of those days where my son fought me tooth and nail because he didn't want to get into the grocery cart at WalMart and by the time I got him strapped in, I had to look down to make sure I was still dressed and one of my boobs hadn't popped out of my sundress in the struggle.

I felt naked as I walked into the grocery store, like one of those hideous dreams where you show up at highschool buck naked and can't remember why you didn't at least put on some pants.

Lately, since getting pregnant this time, I can't seem to remember anything. I repeat myself constantly, which my husband loooooves to point out, I leave the water running in the kitchen sink at least twice a week, I forget words like...like...well, now I can't remember any of the words that I can't remember. Anyway, it's bad. With my first pregnancy, I don't remember having such a bad memory. Imagine that. Me not remembering something. Hmmm...however, I did wash a box of macaroni and cheese in the dishwasher and put the cereal in the refrigerator with my last bout of pregoness. So, why wouldn't I walk into the grocery store with a boob hanging out? Seems pretty likely.

Luckily, no boobs were in sight...this time. Except for the embarrassing boob cleavage I have obtained with this pregnancy. With my first, my boobs didn't get much bigger. Now, they ache when I get out of bed in the morning and I catch other mothers disapprovingly staring at them at the playground. I can't help it, people! Cut me some slack! (but not too much because a boob might fall out)

And then, after the grocery store, while I was changing my shirt, my son grabbed one of my nipples and said, "Boobie!" I can't wait to find out in which inappropriate situation he will repeat this new addition to his vocabulary. And imagine his horror when he reads this someday and finds out he grabbed one of his mother's nipples. I'll start taking bids from therapists right now.