I had my 20 week ultrasound yesterday. Everything looks good, and based on the distinctive profile + excessive amount of kicking and general squirmyness of meatloaf #3, I'd say we have another Ike on our hands.
Whoo boy.
For those of you who don't know, my two boys, Isaac (Ike) and Simon, have very different personalities: Simon is like a sloth. A whiny, drooly sloth who likes to be carried and generally fussed over. Ike, on the other hand, is Godzilla driving a wrecking ball drinking a Red Bull. He's a spastic, wild, beast with lightning-fast reflexes and a complete disregard for the safety of himself or others.
I tend to hold Ike at arms length.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
Because chances are his fists are swinging and his legs are kicking and he's holding a toy like a mace, waiting to give you a death-blow to the nose.
Not that he's not a sweet kid. He's actually more affectionate than his brother. But where Simon will give you a hug, Ike gives you what we've come to refer to as love maulings. Any interaction between you and him, good or bad, will usually end up hurting you.
It's kind of his thing.
But other than a cold sensation of dread that this child may be the reincarnation of his fearless, fist-throwing brother, everything is fine, and the baby is healthy.
We're not finding out the sex this time.
I wanted to wait to find out with the twins but...yanno... twins. They tend to require a bit of planning. Fortunately, this singleton not only requires less planning, but I barely have time to BE pregnant, let alone agonize over what the sex is. So we're going old school and waiting for the big day to find out.
In the meantime, of course, there's the nursery. I went a little overboard with the Boys' room. Like, spent months painting an intricate mural of Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak on all four walls. Apparently I have this inner Martha Steward who is DYING to come out at first chance. But you know what? If painting a life-sized room mural to show your kids you love them is wrong, then I don't want to be right.
Of course, we now have a dilemma:
The NEW nursery.
I'm convinced that child #3 will inevitably weigh my love for him or her against his/her brothers based entirely on the quality of his/her mural. I can hear the screaming accusations of my future 7-year-old now and it ain't pretty. This would normally be no problem...like I said, my inner Martha Stewart has her mom jeans pulled up, her lavendar-scented rubber gloves on, and is ready to get to work. Except I'm lacking the one resource I had in abundance when I was painting the first nursery:
Time
I am baffled about how I'm going to find the 37+ hours (yes I counted) it took me to create the first nursery.
Hell, most days I can barely find the time to pee.
I'm starting to develop a plan. I won't divulge too much now lest I spoil the nursery reveal post which will happen sometime in the far, FAR future. But I'm pretty sure I've found a way to steep this new nursery in child literary excellence WITHOUT having to hire a nanny with the money we don't have. I think it'll be awesome. And EASY, which is pretty clutch right now.
So that's our 20 week status.
We have a healthy kid thus far who may or may not be composed entirely of my husband's "deamon energizer bunny" genes, AND I've found a way to stave off one of the MANY future arguments we're destined to have with him/her.
If I was keeping score (which I already am), I'd say I just scored a point for team Mom.
Now, somebody please come clean out my office/future nursery so I can get started, because I already used up my allotted pee break this morning and I just don't have the time.
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