• J Mess

WHAT'S ONE MORE?

All the biggest breaking news happens on the blog.


I had always wanted to be a cat mom and adopt a cat. Notice I said a cat. One cat. Singular. That was very deliberate. Most rescues at the time wouldn't let you adopt one kitten. They wanted people to take at least 2. Probably so they had each other to socialize with, but definitely because they're trying to offload more homeless animals. I get it. Eventually I'd love nothing more than to save all of the animals. But I only wanted one. I'd never had a pet before so I wanted to start small. Ease into it. Figure out what I was doing slowly. Make sure I could successfully keep it alive. Since I've had Bailey, there have been times I've strongly considered adopting another cat. Notice I said I've instead of we've. That too was very deliberate. Especially when we were feeding and caring for a neighborhood stray and the only thing separating her from basically being ours was she didn't live inside our house. But another animal comes with more responsibility. Everyone says 2 cats is the same as 1. But is it? A new one is an unknown. Will it get sick? Will it get along with the one I already have? Will it be well behaved or ruin everything in my house? Do I really need 2 when I already have 1 that's so amazing?


Well, don't worry folks we're not getting another cat. Yet. But we are having another child. You heard it here first. So I guess the cat's outta the bag.


Yup, we're expecting! And all of the same questions are somehow strangely still relevant. And it's weird this time around. Not that it's not exciting, as Kanye would say, I'm pleased. It's just that I know everything that's going to happen because I did all of this already so all of the anticipation is gone. I'll be sick, tired, get huge, walk slower than a toddler and somehow still be out of breath, stop being able to see my feet, start having to roll out of bed, go to the hospital, have a baby, and then start all the fun I just went through for the last 19 months over from the beginning. While also simultaneously dealing with Nathan's needs, adjustments, jealousy, etc. I'm doing a poor job of expressing how excited we are, aren't I? Sorry all of you second children, this is the reality.


Friends and family are excited, but not as deliriously excited as they were the first time. It's more like, YAY, again... oh and how exactly are you planning on surviving with 2 small children? Except for my friends who are also pregnant again. They were the ones who were the most excited. Like literally foaming with glee, over the moon excited. More excited than any person not related to me should be. Because misery loves company you know.


And if you're doing the math, I timed this precisely so I don't have to buy a single piece of additional maternity clothing. Because I'm a genius, and also a control freak.


I guess I performed so well as the supervisor of 1, that I got promoted and allowed to grow my team. Yet lately I feel like I'm failing at everything. I noticed the other day that my mom changed the hand towels in my bathrooms probably because she's been here the last 4 weekends and realized they remained the same. At first I was embarrassed. Then I thought, just be happy there were any towels there to begin with. She also asked if I was taking my prenatal vitamins. Oh right, those. The ones I took for months before getting pregnant the first time, and totally forgot about this time. Oh man, second child, I am so so sorry. But don't worry, I'm not drinking or doing crack, so I'm sure you're fine.


How the hell did Kris Jenner do this 6 times?

I am however insanely tired, super nauseous, and on top of all of that, I have to take care of a rambunctious toddler. Any one of those things is bad enough on its own, but all 3 together is just cruel. Honestly most days, it's an Olympic feat for me to just get myself off the couch. If you're looking for me, I'm probably curled up in the fetal position somewhere moaning, chasing my ginger candy with a diet ginger ale, and wishing I could go to sleep for days, while Nathan watches Paw Patrol and I feel guilty I'm not playing with him, washing the dishes, doing the laundry, or making dinner. And if it's after 9pm, don't even bother looking for me, I'm upstairs in bed with my cat. The one member of the household I am most confident in saying is the least excited to be obtaining an additional tormentor...


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