So, if the baby boy in my belly and I survive this pregnancy, it will be a miracle. I think my older son might kill me first. Maybe he understands more than we think...maybe he knows that he is about to have a little brother so he is trying to off us before he has to share the limelight. After all, he is a Leo and they like their limelight (I should know. I'm a Leo too).
Here are 3 recent examples:
We took him to a birthday party this weekend, which was outside and it was 84 degrees...pretty hot for a pregnant lady. At least this pregnant lady.
Our son was non-stop motion. He never stopped to eat or drink. He just ran from one place to the next, jumping in the duck pond (none of the other kids did this), taking toy fishing poles away from other kids, trying to pull the balloons off the porch (none of the other kids did this), having meltdown after meltdown because he was tired, hot, and hungry but refused to sit still. I was a fat, sweaty, overheated mess about an hour into the party. Then, when he burned his bare feet on the hot porch, it was made worse by his exhaustion and hunger, so we had to leave the party early, before cake and ice cream and present opening time.
The whole thing was extremely stressful and emotionally taxing. I came home and cried. Some days, I can't handle his restlessness and enthusiasm and sky-high energy level. Then, I got so overwhelmed at the thought of having TWO boys that I just went into a hormonal tail spin. It wasn't pretty.
Then, yesterday, I was sick. Not sure if I had a stomach virus or what, but I woke up in the morning throwing up. One not-so-fun thing about being a stay-at-home parent is that there are no sick days. If you are throwing up, you still gotta show up for work. In the morning, my son was pretty well-behaved and actually let me lie on the couch while he watched some cartoons. But, that afternoon was another story.
He and our dog, Meeko, were like two Tazmanian devils running through the house. It was constant barking and screaming for fun, then screaming out of frustration, then crying, then more barking, more running through the house, knocking me into walls. I got so stressed out that I started having Braxton Hicks contractions and I wasn't sure if I was going to throw up again or go into labor. And again, more tears. From me this time, not Max.
But, today...well, today really convinced me that my son is trying to 86 the new baby. I was sitting on the couch, still not feeling well from yesterday, and my son was standing on the floor next to me. Out of nowhere, because that is how little boys like to play it, he threw his body backwards and rammed his head into my pregnant belly.
It immediately knocked the wind out of me and I started having mild cramping. After about an hour, my abdomen became sore and I called the doctor. I had to go the doctor's office to listen to the fetal heartbeat to make sure everything was still okay, which it was, thank goodness. And I cried...again.
So, so far, I'm still standing and little Harry (our new son's name!) is pulling through. I think I am going to have to strap a pillow to my belly for protection, like a piece of armor for mothers of hyperactive toddlers. I'm still not feeling quite right and I am hoping for an injury-free and tummy-better day tomorrow.
Please God, for the love of all mothers everywhere, make tomorrow an easier day.
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