Grasping at Straws

Why is it that the only time that Arthur EVER asks to sit on his potty or tells me that he has "poo poo coming" is about five minutes after we have turned out the light and tucked him in to bed?! I suppose he is just grasping at straws, trying to find any way he can to squeeze a few more minutes out of the day- even if it means using his potty to do it. Of course, he never really does have to go then and I am a smart enough mom to not fall for it, but after a whole day of urging, pleading, prodding, and reminding him to try to use his potty this sudden willing and cheerful request makes me want to roll my mommy eyes and sigh deeply.

For the first time yesterday I was in a store and a member of the staff approached me offering to help me because of my obvious delicate 'condition'. It was irritating, exciting and reassuring all at once- irritating because I look big enough at 13 weeks to make a total stranger assume that I am obviously pregnant, exciting and reassuring because maybe I don't just look bloated after all!

I have been having moments of nostalgic Christmas longing lately. You know when you are out and about thinking of nothing in particular and suddenly a certain gust of wind, a certain smell, a certain sound transports you right into Christmas time? It has suddenly gotten cooler here and quite blustery some days and at times I feel so much in a Christmas moment that I almost expect to see twinkling lights on the rooftops and hear my favorite Christmas music playing.

Why is it that we have to feel so rotten during pregnancy? Why can't it instead be a time of basking in the wonders of womanhood and motherhood? Why can't we adopt super powers for nine months? I would trade my super sense of smell for super strength, or super speed!

How is it that a two year old can make messes faster than an adult can clean them up? And why do I feel like no matter how exhausted I am at the end of the day, I haven't actually really done anything?

Arthur and I were playing on our bed this morning and I had to remind Arthur to be careful to not jump on Mama's tummy because there is a baby inside. He grew thoughtful and began to squeeze my arm and then asked, "What's in Mama's arm?" I guess it stands to reason that if there could be a baby in Mama's tummy you never know what else could be inside her!