These days are the same. I am truly in a pregnancy fog and am having a hard time getting around it. I know my children are safe and life isn't that bad, but mom guilt is getting the best of me. It pains me that I won't remember these days. Blake and Reade do great things and I try my hardest to praise them in those moments. This pregnancy is easier than my first two in so many ways except that my body seems to be giving out on me. My pelvis feels like it has separated in every which way and is only being held together by rubber bands and one, big sciatic nerve. I pray to the sciatic nerve Gods every time I stand up in hopes I will be able to make it to the kitchen or bathroom without exposing my children to new obscenities. Pain with a purpose, right?
Blake doesn't complain. He just draws action figure after action figure with insatiable thirst:
Maybe I need to start praying to the Marvel Comics Gods instead:
Iron Man stands above Blake's bed. I have always wanted to put a photo of Blake there so I call it "Self Portrait of a Soul" right now:
I am really debating whether or not I should catalog how many peanut butter & jelly sandwiches I feed my children. Thank goodness they ate some taco meat tonight. Bless their little helpless souls:
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