A Girl and her Dog

Our terrier has always been MY dog. I named her Peyton, after my (former) Colts quarterback. She's always slept on my side of the bed, under the covers, down by my feet. If Steve (or anyone, really, for that matter) tries to hug me, she starts barking her fool head off.

She protects me. She's my dog.

But lately, I've noticed a shift in loyalties.

She protects BRIGID, now, when Steve 'gets' her. She jumps up excitedly on BRIGID when we get home. She lets BRIGID comfort her when she's hiding from thunderstorms that are out and about.




Brigid, Brigid, Brigid.

I'm not so sure I really like where this is heading...

Differences

With Brigid, I felt sick, all of the time. I didn't really get sick that often, but I always felt like I was on the verge of it, and that was just a miserable way to spend three months.

With this one, it's been so much better. The smell of pepper, and the memory of this pistachio/cherry/pepper mixture I got from Costco, is enough to send me into a fit of dry heaves, but the pervasive sense of nausea hasn't been there as often.

(Well, pepper and particle board, I should say. The smell of particle board wreaked havoc on me for awhile, too, which was awesome, because Brigid's new room is full of new IKEA particle board furniture. So, that made for a pleasant bedtime routine...)

(Oh, and crying. Pepper, particle board, and crying all make me want to vomit. Guess who is an emotional mess even when she isn't pregnant? That's right, this girl. It's all just a rockin' good time around these parts, is what I'm saying...)

With Brigid, right from the start, I don't think I met an Oreo I didn't like. I could go through an entire bag in a couple of days, no questions asked.

With this one, my sweet tooth is still there (as evidenced by the healthy dose of s'mores I put away over Memorial Day weekend), but it's not as all-consuming. Monday, Steve brought home a box of drumsticks when he went grocery shopping, and I DIDN'T EVEN WANT ONE ON MONDAY NIGHT! I was heartbroken, really...

(But apples? I can't seem to get enough apples. That's just weird. Also, Subway veggie subs. I don't get it, either...)

I don't remember being as drop dead tired with Brigid as I am with this one, but that's probably because when I was pregnant with Brigid, I didn't also have Brigid running around. I realize that probably makes a pretty big difference across the board. I also realize that's most likely going to make the newborn phase a little more hell-ish, too, so at least I have that to look forward to.

But, you know, not everything is different...

My hips are getting bigger. My stomach is, too. My hair is drying up and falling out at an alarming rate. And my skin is breaking out like I'm one, big hormonal mess.

Which I am. Again.

So, at least that makes sense.

It's nice to have something familiar to fall back on, after all.

Compromise

In a move that will shock absolutely no one who has EVER met a toddler, Brigid's desire to be carried from place to place has increased exponentially since my doctor told me I should limit how much I pick her up. And after having the 'mommy can't pick you up because of the baby' conversation with her every day for the last month, she's finally starting to catch on to the way things work.

I mean, if I'm the only one around? She still demands I hold her. But at least now, if she has other options, she'll use them.

Last night, she asked Steve to take her upstairs for her bath. 'Pick up, daddy. You no have baby in your tummy. Only mommy have baby in her tummy.'

So, she knows how that works, anyway...

Summer Fun

Do you know what the best part of having Brigid around is?

When we make s'mores, and they're really, really messy, and she gets tired of having marshmallow and chocolate all over her face, I can TOTALLY eat the rest of hers, along with the one I made for myself, and nobody looks at me funny.



Sometimes, kid, I think those sleepless nights might actually be worth it...

Well, this has been going on for weeks, now...

So, it looks like Brigid is getting a younger sibling for Christmas this year.

And Steve and I are about 6 1/2 months away from being matched up, one-on-one, against the children in our house. Considering Brigid is an easy kid, and it sometimes still takes both of us to handle the toddler-wrangling, I think this also means we are about 6 1/2 months away from losing whatever small amount of sanity we have left in our lives.

But...NEW BABY!!!

Sanity is probably highly overrated, anyway...

Scenes from Spring...

Between trips to the neighborhood pool and popsicles on the back porch, I think it's safe to say we've bypassed spring and jetted straight into summer...
 

She likes me!

Apparently, when Brigid told me the other night that she did not, in fact, like me much at all, she was totally yanking my chain. Because when I got home from work last night? I got more hugs from that kid while I was making her dinner than I had in her entire life before that point.

And then! Well, then she apparently missed me so very, very much, in fact, that once she saw me again, she decided she was not going another night without seeing me as much as possible, if our 3am to 4:30am slumber party is any indication.

So. She loves me! Or something like that...

(Let's completely ignore the part in the evening, though, when she ran to Steve to 'protect' her because 'mommy is mean', shall we? I mean, it's my own fault, of course, for requesting that she put on a nightgown after her bath and brush her teeth before bed.

I am evil. Obviously.)

Glad to have you home, Bug.