Hooo leeee shit. My boobs hurt so bad. Like so, so incredibly bad I can't even put into words how bad they hurt. I did not have this issue when I was pregnant with my sweet little baby boy. I threw up every 30 minutes 24 hours a day, but I did not have this. I don't know how to deal with this. I figure selling them is the best option I've got at this point. They are so big that I was laying on my side last night and BD rolled over on to one. Like ON IT. I woke up out of a dead sleep and squeeled. I had to get him to move so I could un-wedge my boob from between his back and the mattress.
Oh and they're growing! As if they weren't big enough... hellloooo dolly parton. I lifted my shirt in the kitchen last night and told big daddy to hold them. "Just hold them and see how heavy these fuckers are!" He just stood there and laughed. "It's not funny. Why are you laughing?! You asshole you did this to me - I will cut you!" Then he had to leave the room because he got a boner and I won't let him have sex with me because I don't want to risk it. Also, the mood swings. Between the mood swings and no sex rule I'm surprised BD hasn't moved out. Seriously. I would have divorced my ass by now.
I made some cookies last night and put them on a plate on the coffee table and BB shoved three in his mouth like I can't count or something, so I reached over to grab another cookie for "the baby" and BD said "why don't you move that plate away from him?" I did an exorcist head spin and said "WHY DON'T YOU MOVE THE PLATE AWAY FROM HIM?!?!" And the logical answer is because I was already touching the plate, but the crazy answer was I don't like being told what to do apparently. Poor big daddy, he just pretended like I didn't go crazy psycho bitch on him and handed me another cookie. Then baby boy goes "why do I only get three cookies when mom ate SIX?!" To which I replied "three for me, three for the BABY - preschooler who can suddenly count!" I think he bought it.
Also, I'm starving and exhausted. I lay down on the couch every day when I get home from work. Then I wake up and want to go to bed at 730. And the eating? What the hell? I'm pretty sure it's not pc to call your embryo a fat ass, but if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck... For breakfast yesterday I had a bacon, egg, and cheese mcmuffin, a sausage and cheese kolache, and two glazed donuts.
I guess I can handle all of this. Anything is better than puking all.freaking.day like I did with BB. Now I'm going home to take a nap. And possibly eat. Again.