The homeschool co-op we are a part of has a pamphlet of all the mom’s names/photos, and those photos go into the yearbook. Something apparently happened, those photos have to be taken again for the yearbook, and I thought, “Great! I won’t be pregnant in it this time!” When they took the photos last fall, I was about a month away from my due date with Charlotte. And now… it hit me. I am pregnant. Not so big, hopefully not nearly so fat, but still. And come fall, when they take them for next year? I’ll be a month away from my due date. Oh, yes, the irony. Didn’t I just do this?
I’m still feeling great. My gag reflex is ever-ready and Brady nearly did me in when she got carsick on the way home yesterday, but I’m good. Strangely normal. And 12 weeks along.
Ruby asked me the other day if my glasses were my Sunday glasses. I told her they weren’t, but she informed me she has Sunday glasses. You know, in case we get a sunny Sunday.
We’re getting another goat! “Roanie” and her buckling arrive sometime in the next week. Joining “Blackie” and her buckling, we seem to have a pattern here. Color names, baby bucks, Boer/Nubian crosses… but Roanie produces significantly more than Blackie. We’re on our way to providing our whole family with goats’ milk. Except Blaine, who cringes at the thought. And me, if my gag reflex doesn’t improve. Simply knowing it’s goats’ milk might do me in. But the kids – well, I’m pretty sure if I don’t tell them, they won’t know. Looking forward to the day when they get to try it. It should provide some entertainment. Maybe not quite so funny as apple cider vinegar, but it might be funnier too.