Oh the joys of the third trimester! Right?
The last time I was pregnant, the third trimester was pretty great. In fact, it was fabulous. I was off work and sitting on my butt the entire time. There was no toddler to chase around the house, no cooking, no working. The Food Channel was on 24/7 and I would occasionally sent my husband out for my latest craving. I was just an incubator, sitting pretty, growing a human in my uterus. No big whoop.
This time it's a little different. I'm working full time in a very challenging job. I have a toddler who is trying to kill me by giving me a heart attack with every move he makes. My back is killing me, heartburn is like a plague, and I'm leaking. Yes, I'm leaking. One strong cough, surprise sneeze, or hearty laugh and I'm done for. In other words: HOT.
Meanwhile, the little man of the house is finding out he can not just walk, but run at a tilted-angel, full-speed ahead. He can also not look where he's stepping and fall flat on his face. Depending on how much of a nap he has, he screams or just dusts himself off and keeps on running.
He also is figuring out how to climb...on everything. The sofa is his easiest accomplishment. Now he has moved on to the kitchen chairs, which he likes to stand on once conquered. He eyeballed the coffee table the other day, too. Watching him walk used to be such a fun sport. Now, it's, "Holy God, where is he going and what is he going to destroy now?!"
He is a problem solver, like his daddy. Watching him look at something gives me the chills. He stands like a deer, just examining whatever he is trying to unlock, unscrew, or undo. Then, he gingerly pokes at it with a finger or two, touching all of the details, seeing what goes where. When I open a cabinet, he is often watching from a close distance, seeing how everything works.
In other words, I just spent $120 on childproofing supplies...and I have little faith that any of them will outlast our kid's wit.
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