Jack is now obsessed with hunting (another fun thing he gets to do with Daddy but never mommy, the tree-hugging vegetarian, right?). He goes around saying, "It's not deer season, it's turkey season." Nearly every day we go through the ranks of the turkeys; Tom, Jake, Hen. Then the deer; Buck, Doe, Fawn. Then he says, "Daddy's the buck," which usually comes out, "Daddy butt", so I'm looking classier all the time. To make matters worse, Daddy strolled in the garage this morning with four (!) limp turkeys and Jack was ecstatic. I secretly hope that one day he is appalled at the sight of his dead friends (ok, not so secretly) and realizes that he detests hunting. I don't need him to be a vegetarian, I just don't want him to shoot things. And I really, really hope people don't think I have stuffed carcasses on the walls. Totally embarrassing.

In the meantime, my belly grew overnight. I'm still feeling like the spare tire/muffin top gal and not really the pregnant-looking, radiant, gorgeous mama-to-be (right), but it's getting better. I have actually really looked forward to "popping" this time and despite the fact that I still have issues with the body changes (hello cantaloupes with dinner plate nipples), it's been a little easier to accept this time. Part of that could be the fact that I have some super sun dresses for this fair-weather pregnancy instead of the atrocities I was wearing with Jack. Business attire is not for pregnancy. No matter what you see or hear, it all looks like shit. I considered some of the old maternity wear and decided the only thing acceptable was the yoga pants, which as I mentioned in my earlier pregnancy, I have pretty much blown out the crotch from extensive wear, so I'm thinking it's all staying in the storage bin.

Tomorrow's the sonogram and dreaded weigh-in. I think I should just stop looking. I think my pants still fit - although there are a few pairs I've been avoiding so I can also avoid the shame that comes along with the possibility of not being able to button/having the jelly roll drooping over the top. I'm still religiously using my cocoa butter like with Jack and here's hoping my psychological belief that it works will come into play this time as well. I can't believe I'm actually excited about wearing a bathing suit, but the realization that I don't have to suck in for the first time in 17 years might actually bring tears to my eyes.

I'll keep you all posted on the sonogram and hopefully will be able to put up pictures. Happy Hump Day!