I have been writing lately, not exactly for pleasure but it's not horrible either. I have been writing articles for magazines about real estate, since we are going gung ho on being your friendly neighborhood Realtor. We've also been taking lots of pictures of the kids to use in our advertising--I think we'd scare potential clients away with my fat face up on a billboard. Although, with this strange pregnancy, I am right now, 4 pounds below what I started at. Not that that weight was anything to be proud of, but I am kinda happy I haven't put on another 40, on top of the 40 I gained and carried around after Bubba, and the 35-40 I kept on after Handsome. Part of it is wonderful gestational diabetes and the low-carb diet I am on, part of it is having to get up and do stuff around the house to keep the blood sugars down so they don't convert into fat on her and I have a 10 lb. baby, and part of it is the Insane Dieting Man in the House Who Lords Over the Carbs. I hate hearing him talk about not eating this, when I should eat that, how that affects this, so much that I am actually doing it on my own to get him to shut up. I love my husband, in a I have to kinda way, but his militant stance on losing weight and becoming healthy is annoying as all hell. Doesn't he know I just want to see him with muscles and a tight stomach and I could give two shits how he got it? He could waste our savings on liposuction and laxatives and he'd still get me drooling over him if the end result was the same. I am happy, I guess, that he's doing it healthy, blah, blah, blah, mushy wifey stuff.

The kids are getting excited about having a little sister around soon, and we have practiced what to do when she cries.

Step 1: Tell Mommy she is crying.

Step 2: Get Mommy a shot of tequila.

Step 3: Turn up Jimmy Buffet while Mommy shoots the shot.

Step 4: Give the baby a lighter to play with to amuse her while we wait for Mommy to wake back up and get off the floor.

Parenting is easy.