Pioneer woman

Sometimes I try to imagine being a pioneer woman of 1844 or so. I don't think I'm tough enough (I'm quite wimpy) most of the time. Especially having to wear a dress through mud and heat and everything. Then last night I had to sleep in the same room with my entire family, including my lovely and sweet mother-in-law, whom I love dearly. But to give you the picture and to salute all the real pioneer women of days past who had ten children in a one room cabin...Hank woke up every hour in a burst of cry, usually meaning his blanket (a towel from the bathroom) was absent.  This caused me to shoot forth out of bed towards his crib to remedy the situation. It's just a natural reaction. Wade moaned throughout the night. Dear MIL, whom I so love remember, snores terribly. You should also know that I was wearing my nightgown.  All this, plus a heavy base music beat until 2am outside the hotel was enough to prove my thought that "I am no pioneer woman."

The truth is now known. 

Second truth: I am waddling. Yes. The point of being very uncomfortable in your own body has arrived. Pregnancy is no joke. I told myself (and Perris) Weeks ago that I am going to try really hard not to complain, because I really don't have it bad. But let it be known: the amount of belly that is to come sometimes haunts me at night. 

And this picture is the only angle that makes me feel ok about bodily status :)

In other news, Hank has the sweetest face. And he was introduced to playing under the bed this week--which was really exciting!!  I also got a sweet snapshot of my two older guys sleeping right next to me.  I liked that!