The Halfway Point

After a near constant stream of visitors over the past three weeks, we have our apartment to ourselves again. Visitors are lots of fun, but so is lounging around in my bathrobe until 10 a.m., so it's nice to balance the scales a bit.

We have less than two weeks left here in NYC. The weather has turned and reminded me that I actually do enjoy the city when it's not sweltering outside and I don't feel nauseated every time I get a whiff of rotting garbage or burnt pretzels. David and I are trying to soak up every last bit of city life we can, including all the treats that will be unattainable once we leave. We have told Michael we are going to move back to our Virginia house and that he will have to say goodbye to all the taxis and trains (which confuses him about as much as telling him he's going to get a brother and a sister) but luckily for him, we will be buying a "fast car" to satisfy his appetite for all things transportation.

I am twenty weeks along (more than halfway!), but have been surprised by some pregnancy symptoms that didn't appear until at least seven months with Michael. Then I compared a twenty week picture from each pregnancy and it became obvious why I'm already feeling pressure in my lungs.

Behold, twenty weeks with Michael, barely into maternity pants:


And twenty weeks with the twins:


Dude.

I will now be taking guesses on how many more weeks I have until a whale sling becomes necessary to move me from place to place. Actually, I have felt very well, all things considered, and have nothing to complain about. But I am immensely relieved to be heading back to suburbia where I can drive a car instead of hauling Michael's stroller up seven flights up subway stairs any time I need to go somewhere.

Anyway, I suppose I should take my bathrobe off and run a brush through my hair so I can go buy some laundry detergent, which we (of course) ran out of two weeks before heading home. Unfortunately, we can't survive without it, otherwise it would join the list of other things I'm going to stretch till our departure - like the remaining teaspoon of dish soap and the last roll of paper towels.

Of course, I ate the last piece of chocolate in the cupboard yesterday, so if I wanted to be consistent about my rationing and sacrifice, I wouldn't buy any more.

Luckily for me, consistency was never my strong point.