Six Months Along...and Our New Piano

So here I am, six months along...the other day I walked up to Rus and bumped him accidentally with my belly and shocked him. I said, "Whoops, sorry, my belly shocked you." And he said, "Yeah, sometimes it does that." I then called him a jerk and punched him in the arm. Sometimes being clever like that gets you in trouble, especially with a pregnant woman.
Poor husbands, they have to deal with all of the irrational, overblown feelings that their pregnant wives go through. Men don't seem to understand that simply getting dressed when you're pregnant can be a very emotional thing.
Example of finding an outfit: The first pair of pants have the elastic everywhere and give me a bubble butt and hips. The second pair don't help my figure any either, plus sneakily slide down if I try to walk anywhere. The third pair are highwaters and the fourth pair are green and don't match anything. Sweat pants are looking pretty dang good at this point...Then there's the issue with shirts. The first shirt is too short and shows off the non-show-offable panel built into the pants. The second shirt might as well be a tent...I could probably hide an additional child in there...heck, my belly does look big enough for twins when I wear this contraption! The third shirt is just too tight, proving that once again my belly has grown. (Hmm, is that what happened to that whole package of thin mints?) I think that's why when I do find myself standing in front of the mirror looking cute, I feel like I have to make a day of it and go lots of places. It's not that I expect every other pregnant woman to look adorable when I'm out and about. I think I just notice the ones who are dressed nice more, and I wonder, "How in the earth did she find such cute pants to wear, and where did she get that shirt?" It's mystifying.
***Side note...I was just interrupted by Jacob, who should be in bed, but walked in my room saying, "Crying! Big Poop, Mom! Big Poop!" hehehe...***
Anyways, whenever I whine that my belly has once again grown and left me standing in front of my dresser, frustrated and not-dressed-yet, Rus just tells me that it's okay, I'm just building a luxury apartment for our baby. Depending on the day I can either find this thought comforting, or my hormones can interpret it as, "It's okay if you're as big as a house..."




Okay, and here's our new (to us) piano! Yay for craigslist! This thirty-year old beauty was hefted into our home last Saturday by Rus and some of his true friends. (Well, that's not completely true, the guys could have just been in it for the burgers, but I still applaud them for sacrificing their back muscles to bring the sound of music into our home.) It sounded awful but looks pretty good, and after a lengthy tuning yesterday it even sounds like it should. I am so excited to have it...now I just have to find a time to play it when the kids aren't sitting next to me helping me find the "right" keys.