Popcorn popping on the apricot tree

When I was little at and going to church there was a song we used to sing often.

 It goes, I looked out the window and what did I see? Popcorn popping on the apricot tree. 

Well, I'm not exactly an apricot tree but I definatly feel like I have an Orville Redenbacher factory in my belly. 

This baby is officially up and running. It is a wiggly thing.

 I love it. 

All of a sudden the nausea, fatigue, and dare I say it weight gain is worth it. 

I love this feeling. With my other pregnancies people would ask if I enjoyed being pregnant. 

With Jack I loved it. Your first pregnancy is so easy. I say that with very loosely. I know that it can stink ie: nausea but you don't usually have another child to chase and feed and change their diaper. 

(No your husband doesn't count) 

You can rest whenever you want, and that makes a huge difference.

Even the second pregnancy, you can at least pass the buck to your husband every once in a while. But (and someone should have told me) with your third pregnancy, there is no rest for the weary. 

I haven't particularly enjoyed being pregnant so much this time. 

It's one on one all the time. Matt usually has one kiddo and I have the other. And of course I have been more nausea's and tired with this little jumping bean than with Jack and Lucy combined.

But it's real. He/she is as big as an iPhone now and making it know. 

No data plan needed, there is a baby in this stomach and I'm starving so let's celebrate by eating a over flowing plate of spaghetti with Kraft bottled parmesan cheese, and everything but the kitchen sink. 

I am obsessed with this stuff, ask Matt. It is ridiculous.