Monday, January 5, 2009

Pickles & Ice Cream

Today, I am 18 weeks pregnant.

I have bronchitis (a killer cough), pink eye, a broken foot, crippled pride, but I AM 18 WEEKS!

If it would be cool, I would like to take a bow. I am almost... almost half way through. And if I throw up again, someone is going to die.

Poppy is 18 weeks today. Forget the size of your hand. Go to your fridge- look in the door & pull out the outdated pickle jar that is crusted over and is way past throwing out. You will have to wait to take out the trash before those pickles get plucked from the door and toss them in the Glad Bag on the way out to the curb.

Shake the jar and check out the fattest pickle behind the whited over label. Say Hello to Poppy, because that's the size of our person. Poppy can now yawn (while watching hunting shows) and hiccup (too much co'cola). Also, their fingerprints are complete! If we could, their little paws can run over an ink pad and be posted on CSI:Miami & Horatio Caine could be on the lookout for Poppy. Poppy weighs in around 5 ounces-- about the size of a chicken breast on your dinner plate. Not MY plate- chicken and I still do not agree (it's the feathers), but your plate can hold my serving of chicken just fine!

I will stick to Cheerios.

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