We've been in our new Happy House for almost two weeks now. It's really restored the meaning of 'Happy' being here.
Master S is doing so well with his toilet training. He hasn't had a single accident since we've been here and has even started standing up to do his 'peepees'.
Miss E is just zoom-zoom-zooming along. Chattering more and more everyday and has developed a slight obsession with shoes. She's forever wearing shoes. Be it a pair of her own, a pair of her brothers, a pair of mine or *gulp* a stinky pair of the Hubby's. Sometimes it's not a pair at all, but she feels fabulous and insists on flaunting the fact she has 'shoes' on, and knows how to put them on the correct feet. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
Our littlest one is growing nicely. Well, I believe she is. She's 23 weeks old tomorrow, and is quite the 'mover and shaker'. I'm swelling up to the size of a house, a fact Hubby never ceases to remind me of. 'Wow, no denying you're pregnant!' 'Hm? What gave it away?' 'Er, um, your boobs are huge! Lots of milky goodness?'
Yeah, we all know you're trying to say I'm fat, you prick. My 'milky goodness' has made no difference to my breast size at all!
Aside from getting fat, I've found I have a lot of motivation of late. Aside from having two kids, a weak bladder and no choice in getting out of bed early each day, I have found since being here, I want to.
I want to reef open the curtains and greet the day. I want to go outside and play with the kids. I want to do my housework. I want to do my washing, and hang it out to dry.
I am happy here.
My Kidlets are happier.
Because I'm happy.
And the Kidlets may also be happy because of these little guys.
They're our Guinea Pigs.
They have no names.