I'm growing in more ways than one these days. My body's response: stretch marks.
I had none on my stomach but other aspects of my physique seemed to display those most honorable badges of motherhood unashamedly. Then today, as I was trying on my no-longer-fitting summer clothes--including a now not-so-attractive pair of lime green shorts--I saw them. Creeping up on my now underbelly, those dreaded marks had made their way from my thighs and hips to my torso. And this is only the beginning of my third trimester. I've got a few more miles to go.
My son has become more and more active as the months progress from little kicks ever so often to a full-fledged tap dance complete with somersaults and backflips. He's very responsive to touch and responds excitedly within seconds of hearing loud noises or feeling something icy cold coming down the pikes.
A friend's mother pointed out that my "nesting" phase has been taking the form of garage "sailing," as I like to call it. Guilty as charged. Swooping in like a hawk, I now zip past those items I used to pick up for myself and zoning in specifically on those brightly colored children's items priced so inexpensively it should be illegal.
What do I do when I'm not trudging across lawns and driveways for the latest bargains? I peruse Craig's List and map out the nearest thrift stores that could possess some treasures just waiting for me.~*
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