A couple months ago, Whitney casually mentioned that when I was expecting in the past, I told her as well soon, so she never got a possibility to guess. Well not this time. I made her sweat it out almost 13 weeks before I drove over to her home with a lima-bean-style ultrasound as well as blurted it out. as well as she never guessed.
This time, I left lots of hints for her to find, however she missed them all:
I see her at least twice a week, as well as almost always in that exact same baggy shirt as well as drapey sweater. (Trimester 1: hide the bump!)
I’m never without a snack. never ever. I eat like a toddler, about every two hours.
I have rather a pot belly for somebody who is training for a half marathon, as well as it just keeps getting bigger.
I stopped drinking even on our wild as well as crazy nights out (though, to be fair, I’m not afraid to put a decoy sangria in front of me for the duration of the evening).
I am always chewing my peppermint gum (or hurling).
I’m even crazier than usual (see Container store tantrum) or my radical haircut.
I am obsessively reading blogs about moms expecting with #3 after two boys who ARE (Using Our Words) as well as are NOT having The woman (amalah).
I started accepting bizarre product pitches for infant products I don’t need, that nobody needs.
I tweet passionately about Cracklin’ Oat Bran.
When she told me I looked gorgeous before our elegant babycenter dinner out, I asked, “am I glowing?”
That’s my huge announcement: expecting with number three. infant is due in September to excited parents as well as two great huge brothers. Yikes.