Hey, big spender...

Apparently I made such an impression at A Pea In A Pod a few of weeks ago that the store is now calling to remind me periodically about sales and special events, like tax free weekend.

Part of me isn't sure how I feel about this. The other part could really use another couple of shirts (mine are starting to get...errrr...shorter).

Not very happy that pregnancy comes with a closet full of regular clothes that suddenly don't seem to fit quite right. My wardrobe staples are suddenly staples no longer. But, at 21+ weeks I am still in the baby beer gut phase, which means that I suddenly have fat rolls and my favorite jeans give me a muffin top...but only on the right side. Explain THAT to me.

However, when I wear maternity clothes, I LOOK...well, almost pregnant. Psychologically, this is unnerving, and makes me only want to wear my regular clothes more. I am sure the situation will continue to deteriorate before I finally submit to this whole pregnancy thing. Leave it to me to try and rebel against a condition which is not only expected but guaranteed to happen. Have I mentioned that I pick my battles well?

In other news, yesterday was trying morning. Between waking up and meeting my aunt for lunch, the following occurred:

1. The toilet overflowed.


2. Since we all know about Trevor's history with toilets and cleanliness, I decided to do the disinfecting of the floor and overall bathroom. Without really thinking about it, I marched in there armed with a roll of paper towels and bleach, and went to town. About ten minutes into the process, Trevor walked in and started yelling at me that I was killing his baby. Okay, maybe he didn't use those exact words, but that is how I took it. True, I was barefoot and gloveless in a small, poorly ventilated room cleaning with bathroom disinfectant and bleach. I honestly didn't give the situation much thought before heading in there, because, well, there was poo water on the floor and my options were limited. Either I cleaned it up or leave it to Trevor have toilet water residue on the bathroom floor for all eternity. Subsequently spent the next twenty minutes in the closet sobbing hysterically that I had inadvertently harmed my unborn child.


3. Received "courtesy notice" from the City of Dallas informing us that they've changed the tree branch rule from six feet from power lines to fifteen feet. A citation will apparently follow because we have ONE tree with branches within ten feet of the lines. Of course, the date we are supposed to fix the situation apparently passed two weeks ago. Which is awesome since the letter wasn't postmarked until the 16th, and our next bulk trash day isn't until mid September. It is like they want you to fail. Stupid effing city.


4. Nearly decapitated by gardening equipment falling off the garage wall.


5. Said gardening equipment hit one of the garage door sensors, which - of flipping course - made the door refuse to close. This was all the more awesome because we were already running late for lunch and there was no way the car would make it without stopping for gas.


6. The vet couldn't get fecal samples from Gypsy or Haskell. Anyone with pets knows that this now means that I get the honor and privilege of collecting the poo myself, storing it in my fridge and transporting back to the vet during their operating hours. Now if THAT doesn't make a girl feel special...

Throw in the fact that we returned to Dallas from Colorado 3.5 days early to temperatures that are more than twice what we experienced in the pass between Ouray, Silverton and Durango on Tuesday (see photo below), and you have one highly depressed and hormonal pregnant lady.

How I miss Colorado!