Urp...ugh.
Death by morning sickness, week 11:
I could write a whole book on the art of vomiting. Ironically it would probably sell better than anything else I could possibly produce. I try not to think about that, as it makes me nauseous.
Kiwi's are a great placebo, and I highly recommend them. Of course they don't totally work. Or at least two a day doesn't take care of the problem. But I suppose eating two kiwi a day to help my morning sickness is like using a dropper of milk to ease the bubbling of a vat of acid.
Spring is a welcome change to dying indoors with all the windows closed. There is nothing like fresh air. At least not in the apartment with a stinky baby.
The others involved in this escapade are pretty sure I'll survive. My husband isn't making any large bets on the matter though, so I don't know how secure I am. Valor is fascinated with the whole process. Yesterday he slipped in the door I didn't have time to close, quietly observed me, and then while I was leaning back burping, he leaned over and spat in the bowl. Then he looks up at me and smiles like he knows just what the toilet's for.
I hope this has made at least on of my readers feel slightly sick. Misery loves company. I'm gonna go lay back in bed and contemplate adoption.
I could write a whole book on the art of vomiting. Ironically it would probably sell better than anything else I could possibly produce. I try not to think about that, as it makes me nauseous.
Kiwi's are a great placebo, and I highly recommend them. Of course they don't totally work. Or at least two a day doesn't take care of the problem. But I suppose eating two kiwi a day to help my morning sickness is like using a dropper of milk to ease the bubbling of a vat of acid.
Spring is a welcome change to dying indoors with all the windows closed. There is nothing like fresh air. At least not in the apartment with a stinky baby.
The others involved in this escapade are pretty sure I'll survive. My husband isn't making any large bets on the matter though, so I don't know how secure I am. Valor is fascinated with the whole process. Yesterday he slipped in the door I didn't have time to close, quietly observed me, and then while I was leaning back burping, he leaned over and spat in the bowl. Then he looks up at me and smiles like he knows just what the toilet's for.
I hope this has made at least on of my readers feel slightly sick. Misery loves company. I'm gonna go lay back in bed and contemplate adoption.