TRUE LIFE CONFESSION.

I LOST CONTROL OF HENDRIX'S DIET. Because I've been so nauseous, cooking and preparing food has been the farthest thing from my to-do list. Unfortunately, this means, Hendo has been eating popsicles, Jell-o, Skittles, crackers, and vanilla wafers. We've eaten at fast food joints at least 4 times in the last 2 weeks. At first, these were treats along with mom, but lately, he hasn't been eating his regular food. He wants to get out of his high chair after eating for 2 min!

And what does he request to eat? "Cangy! Fries! Pop-Pops! Cheeps!" I'm not going to translate those, because I am TOO ASHAMED.

I've noticed a change in Hendo's attitude. He's been throwing things, screaming, refusing to cooperate and all around being a real crazy person. Now, granted, we are entering a new phase of development here. So, I guess we'll see if the behavior continues (DEAR GOD, NO). But, I don't think junk food is a real positive mood enhancer.

This malnutrition has also been (I think) the cause of ridiculous night waking. Hendrix was sleeping through the night (for the most part), until I got pregnant. In the last few weeks, he's been waking up and wanting to nurse (more on that in another post) like 5 TIMES A NIGHT! Obviously, this could be due to something else, but I seriously doubt the candy is helping. And obviously, I'm exhausted. So, it's been a bad, bum deal all around.

Yesterday I made myself sit down and make a grocery list/ commitment agreement for myself. It doesn't matter how sick I feel, or how tired I am... Hendrix HAS to eat well. I am responsible for his well being, and popsicles are not a food group. We went grocery shopping today, and I have a ton of lean meat, fresh fruits and veggies for the next week.

Hendrix, I hope you had a good time on the junk food train, because the RIDE IS OVER.

dear new life,

On July 4th, I walked out of the bathroom and over to your dad to show him blazingly pink double lines. You were officially on your way. You, a tiny speck of possibility.

You are due March 9th. I know you'll be early. Right now, I'd have to say, I think you're a boy. If you're not, I hope the inclination I have is because you're destined to be a tomboy (if you're a lady). Please know, I don't care who you are as long as you are healthy, healthy, healthy (and you can take that as a promise for the rest of your life).

Your big brother knows you're coming. He's already started lifting up my shirt to give you kisses or to blow raspberries and laugh. He is going to be your best friend. I promise you that. You are so wanted, so loved. Your dad and I hold onto your sleeping brother at night and whisper about YOU. We get all teary eyed, because, till your brother came, we didn't know our hearts could grow so full of love. Already, they're growing even bigger to make more room for you.

My little baby, please know that I am savoring this perfect time we have together. You and I have these long months ahead of us just to ourselves. This will be the only time it's just us. I take time every day to pray with you, to flood you with all the dreams and hopes I have for you. I have so many. When we saw you on the ultrasound at the doctors, your little legs were kicking, and your arms were waving. Already, you are full of life and energy. Perhaps that's why I seem to have so little of both lately. But don't you worry about that. Right now, it's all about you, kid.

I love you; I love you; I love you. Grow; Grow; Grow.