6w2d I forgot what this is like

The nausea, which was only intermittent at five weeks, is now a constant, churning force of nature, threatening to wring out the contents of my stomach at the slightest taste or smell.

Thanks to the fatigue, I have to lay my head down once an hour, and I even managed to fall asleep with my face on a coffee table.

I had to tell my children to stop headbutting my stomach because mommy has a tummy ache that's going to last for the next several months.

There's a living, breathing heartburn monster inside my body trying to burn it's way up my throat.

My husband asks how I'm feeling and I want to punch him because ohmygod-how-do-you-think-I-feel-right-now.

All of my clothes are uncomfortable and it's pretty much impossible to hide the bump that has already formed (despite my husband's disbelief that I could possibly have a bump this early on -- thanks a lot, dear).

I throw away perfectly good food because ohmygod-I'm-going-to-barf-get-it-away-from-me.

...What's different this time around? There's nothing cutesy or lovey, except what I offer the baby silently in quiet moments throughout my day. It seems like there are no positive comments or conversations (yet), just semantics and worries and more incredulity. It's a lot of how-are-we-going-to-fit-them-in-our-cars and how-are-we-going-to-pay-for-daycare and I-thought-you-said-this-wasn't-going-to-happen.

And that's just not fair to you, baby. Or me, damn it. I want the smiles and the onesies, the daydreams and the warmth of the miracle that you are. You are loved and wanted, and my happiness is big enough for all of it, all of us.

Let me buy my bananas, old people.

Andy went away for the weekend, which meant lots of quality time for the boy and me. The weather was so perfect, it would've been a crime to stay inside. After feeding Fletch the leftover chicken casserole for lunch, we played at the park, where he was more interested in the wood chips, grass, and sidewalk than the actual toys. Then I got a sandwich, and finally we went to Pick 'n Save for a few groceries.

I stopped at produce first for bananas, which happen to be the easiest and cheapest food ever to feed him. Then we headed toward the baby food aisle.

Now, Fletch is pretty cute. He gets a lot of attention when we go out. It's especially conspicuous when I'm pushing a stroller through the grocery store instead of a cart. So the few glances we got from strangers were not unusual.

In the baby food aisle, I had to stand around pretending to be interested in greeting cards because a woman was taking up half the aisle, and the other half was blocked by a display. I even read a few cards in an effort not to rush her.

The woman was speaking to her son in Spanish and taking her sweet time with the jars of Gerber. I finally noticed that she also was shooting sidelong looks at my son.

Yeah, lady, we're waiting for you.

It took long enough that I decided to offer Fletch his cup of water. Umm... yeah. It was easy to see the reason he was garnering attention. I don't think you can call it "spit up" when the slime stuck to his shirt, shorts, and stroller actually contains whole noodles. I think we're in vomit territory then.

So I got busy checking the floor and greeting cards for signs of projectile, and he's smiling away at me, and heaven only knows what was being said in Spanish behind me.  Probably, "Asqueroso."

Have you ever tried to take a puke-covered pullover shirt off a toddler who has a big head and a lot of hair? In a Pick 'n Save?? Mere hours after I had washed his hair??? It required much care.

Sometime during Fletcher's public undressing, my Spanish friend disappeared, but it was too late now. I had a stroller full of partially digested puke noodles and a half naked toddler, I wasn't going to bother with shopping. I took my bananas to the checkouts.

When you have only one item, of course, that's when every lane is full and all four self-checkouts have been hijacked by the slowest, most technologically impaired folks you'll ever find. Not only that, they were the folks most likely to stare at and judge the mother of a half-naked toddler in public. LET ME BUY MY BANANAS, OLD PEOPLE, AND YOU'LL NEVER SEE ME AGAIN.

Lesson: My son is cute, but sometimes people stare for other reasons.