I was planning on a very lazy night - Marc wasn't coming home tonight after work, going to the gym instead. I was going to order in and go to bed as early as I could get the kids to fall asleep. But then he changed his mind, decided to stay home, and asked if we could go out to eat instead of getting take out. Because I know the kids would love it, and I remember being a kid and LOVING eating at a restaurant, I said okay. But I hadn't showered in... a couple of days, lets say, and knew that I'd have to get cleaned up. So I took a very long, very hot shower, and then got dressed. I have a lot of comfy maternity clothes, leggings, long t-shirts, but no jeans. And I've been wearing leggings for the past 16 weeks, and I'm sick of them.
I dug around in the closet and found a pair of pregnant girl overalls. They look hideous. They have to be a hand me down from someone, because God knows I would never have bought them. But they aren't leggings, and at this point, who cares what I look like, right? At least that's what I was trying to tell myself - because I think I look horrible. I'm clearly pregnant, but still feel like I look fat. Anyway, so I haul these things on, and then went to go change Sam's disgusting diaper (will he ever potty train - I'm beginning to doubt it). I look terrible, and know it, and I trudge out into the living room, disgusted with myself - and Jessie takes one look at me, gasps in wonder, and says "Mommy - those look BEAUTIFUL."
Thank God for Jessica. I wish I'd had her all my life - I could have used this ego boost when I was sixteen :-)