It happened.

I was verbally recognized as pregnant by people in public. --------------- Okay I'm not going to deny that I'm rockin' the preggo pooch. And 99.9% of the time I love it! It really is an amazing, beautiful event in a woman's life - I am personally involved in perpetuating the human race, as we speak. I have felt the babies ever so slightly fluttering around and cannot wait until I can feel them "for real" and really distinguish who is who and hiccups and feet and knees and the whole 9. I am blessed to have this happening to me, a blessing I do not take for granted - I love an cherish my kids already and they're only the size of lemons. (Thanks for the update BabyCenter - yep, I'm back. You'll be glad to know that the conversation most recently has been reduced to mini-vans.) So anyhow, here's my situation yesterday: I left the house feeling pretty actually, wearing a long brown skirt (you'll see me in it, trust me, it's awesomely comfortable) and a small tan sweater over a yellow shelf-tank top. I love my accessories of course, so I pulled out a beautiful, simple shell necklace that I purchased in Hawaii in 2002. I was going to shoot photos of a 15 mo. little girl, and overall felt really comfortable in what I had on, although I noticed in the mirror before I left "I totally look pregnant." (I'm being so descriptive about my attire because, as you women know, it's actually really important). The tank and the skirt hugged my "shape" so there was no denying it. I get to Forest Park and meet mom and Bella, a gorgeous baby girl, at the Grand Basin, and there is a couple behind us just hanging out on the steps - the gentleman pipes up, "Wow, she is so beautiful!" "Isn't she?!" I responded, excited about shooting. "And it looks like you're next, eh?" So there you have it, the first time anyone has officially accused me of being pregnant, in public. The cat is out of the bag. It's official. My internal response was a mixed sense of a sort of accomplishment or rite of passage, and impending doom. And so the following starts running through my head: "There's no turning back. And I'm only going to get bigger. Oh my God I'm only 13 weeks along and everybody can tell... Just how crazy big am I going to get? Am I really going to look like a parade float? Will I even be able to walk around? Will they have to widen the doorways to get me out of the house to get to the hospital?" Well, it was bound to happen, and it has. It really is sort of a rite of passage I guess, and I should be proud of my big, round self. I happen to be one of those people who think pregnant women are breathtaking. And so I will continue to remind myself as I catch myself in mirrors - in honor of SNL's Stuart Smalley. -------------------- Other items: everything stinks. Literally. My sense of smell is sheer insanity. Things that used to smell good, now do not (Boca Chicken). Some things that really smell great though, are paradise to sniff i.e. fresh peaches, fresh tomatoes. Things that really smell bad, though, (no stretch of the imagination needed), make me want to run the other way while spewing - not a pretty site. -------------- Lastly, please, pretty please, leave me comments. I want to know what's on your minds, and it gives me an excuse to take a break from editing while I'm on the computer. Have a great day everyone - it's gorgeous outside! Yay August in St. Louis!! WHAT?? Who would think we'd ever say something like that!