Animalia is relieved

because The New Baby is definitely a girl. Definitely. No chance a mistake was made.

I am.

Are you really happy? someone asked.



I am.



Really? The reply.



I like my life.



But you're stressed, she stated.



Mmmhmm. A 2-year-old. A husband. A full time job with another full time job on the side. A little extra money making here and there. Another baby on the way. The constant threat of lupus flare up. There's stress. But I'm happy. I like my life.

Love, true love

"Mommy, thank you for loving me."

I don't love you

"I don't love you," she tells me. She's irritated because it's time to get out of the shower and get ready for bed.
"But I love you," I reply.
"I don't love you. I love my daddy."
He makes faces from the other side of the bathroom door. Faces like he won something. Faces like he's gloating. I myself am trying not to laugh. I leave the bathroom telling him that he's on his own for the bedtime ritual. I start laughing and it takes awhile to catch my breath.

She's reasonable.

The reasoning of a smart, defiant toddler goes like this:

"It's time to take a nap," says Nana.
"I can sleep with my eyes open," says Animalia.

"Let's go to the jumping castles, " I tell her in an attempt to take her to Pump It Up (where we've never been but it looks like she would love it).
"I want to stay home," she responds.
"Come on! It'll be fun!" I put a huge smile on my face.
"If I want to jump I can jump in your bed," she says, conversation over.

"Naptime!" I say.
"I will not sleep, I will eat my foot!" she yells.

These, and discussions like these, happen daily.

The New Baby

The New Baby is what we're calling it. Not bean or bun or muffin or whatever food references people make about the things growing inside them. The New Baby. Like that, capitalized.

The first time we mentioned The New Baby to Animalia, we showed her the sonogram. She said, "That new baby is not coming in my house." She really cracks me up.

The last week or so, the response had been more positive. She says that we'll read to the new baby and walk her on the ceiling (because Dad walks Animalia on the ceiling) and protect the new baby. I'm sure that ceiling walking and protecting conflict a little but I don't contradict her. According to Animalia, The New Baby is a girl, not a boy, so that she can be a princess and be lovely and smart. Now that she's said that, I'm sure that The New Baby will most certainly be a boy or a tomboy and hate dresses with all the passion in the world. That's just how life is.

The Sleepiness

I find myself nesting again, pregnant again, wanting to do nothing but gaze at Animalia while she sleeps. The problem is that she doesn't sleep like she used to. Naps still happen but mostly with a bit of anger and crying. Bedtime for the last few days consists of me putting her to bed, her sneaking off to be with her dad, me not hearing her because I'm asleep, and, the next morning, hearing Jimmy tell me that she played until 11pm and that's why she's so cranky. So basically, I'm tired. Animalia is energetic. And Jimmy is nice to both of us.

I just reread this and I realize that that's no way to make a big announcement. Hi everyone, I'm tired and pregnant. Exciting.

Ok... how about

We're having another baby in November. Animalia won't be an only child. We're thrilled. But really, we are.

Next post, Animalia's reaction.