We went to the doctor for the first time this week. (I know, I know. Should have been two months ago. But I always procrastinate.) It is nice to hear the heartbeat and be reassured that it is, in fact, a baby, and not a two-month case of food poisoning.
As for how things are going, I suppose they are going better. It's all in what you compare it to. Last week I couldn't move or keep anything down, and this week I can keep most food down if I don't move and breathe deeply and think Beautiful Thoughts and no one asks me about the grocery list. It's good practice for labor. Wondergirl is doing everything, for which we are so deeply indebted we shall never be able to pay her back.
We had a very nice Christmas. D2 got a lot of cars, so he was happy. D1 got to wear her black and red dress and open lots of packages, so she was happy. DOB finished the presents he was writing (a complete history of Burgundy), so he was happy. Wondergirl got everything done as planned and took many pictures of small children, so she was happy. I didn't throw up anywhere embarrassing, so I was happy.
Weird pregnancy dreams continue. Last night's involved porcupines that turned into stray children and a trip to play golf in Florida with the president and my late grandmother.