(I'm not sure what happened, but this entire post was hijacked by EXTREME CAPS LOCK USAGE, and I'm just going to apologize for it here. Carry on.)
As something of a long-time blog reader (I stalked people LONG BEFORE I ever had the guts to introduce myself or put this little old Creamery out on the internets), I consider myself a pretty decent source of truth when I say the following:
BLOGGING CONTENT OF SECOND OR THIRD OR FOURTH (you get the idea) PREGNANCIES IS BORING.
I don't mean any disrespect to any of y'all who are busy blogging about the belly when it's not the first time around - but I know what I know. When it's your first time, there's all this awesome discovery of the heinous and weird and completely unbelievable crap that your body goes through. It's funny. And horrifying. And also strangely touching, in the best way possible.
But those second babies---- well, there isn't a lot said about them. The strange discoveries are done and gone, and while it's still awesome, the being pregnant stuff--- there is clock-watching that just doesn't make for a good blog entry.
Be that as it may, I promise I won't be totally silent over here (if ever - ha!). And I feel bad that I haven't said much more about little Polly. But I get it, I get it in a visceral way that I didn't before: I don't have the same sense of intense focus on this belly that I did with Bean. How could I? Bean herself is doing so much to keep my attention focused outside of myself --- I'm doing a preschool co-op with some friends that starts next week (more on this later), and until very recently I felt like every day that I actually spent upright was a TOTAL WIN, which meant that my personal expectations were down to LET'S CELEBRATE THAT WHIMSY GOT DRESSED TODAY and LET'S TOAST WHIMSY THAT SHE MANAGED TO CLEAN THE BATHROOM. It didn't leave a lot of room for writing navel-gazing missives about my hopes and fears for Baby Whimsy #2.
And now that I'm here, on the other side of First Trimester Sickfest, the intense view of WHAT HAVE I DONE fades into smoke and I'm feeling... optimistic. And even... excited.
Which means that I can say, as if I'm discovering it for the first time:
HOW CAN A SINGLE PERSON PEE THIS MUCH?