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Today I took my kid for a haircut and had to leave after five minutes. He wasn't tantruming, he was just absolutely determined not to get in one of the chairs. Period. End of story. Nothing I said or did would change his mind. I just had no idea what to do, so I just left. I have a feeling this will not be my favourite memory of childrearing: utter frustration and impotent fury.
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Every once in a while I wake up and the child inside me has spread himself so thin somehow that my belly is flat -- I mean, bigger than before, but flat. I can't figure out where his body is, let alone his head. Now I know he HAS those things because we saw the ultrasounds, and while I may be pessimistic about things, even *I'm* pretty sure that they can't just disappear. Where do they go? Is it just that my intestines are completely squished and there's just lots of room down there?
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I'm calling the baby he, because we've been referring to it so much as "she" that I was starting to believe it was a girl, and I really didn't want to be shocked and surprised by a little boy at birth. The Boy (the one we currently have; may have to come up with a new pseudonym) believes it's a girl, so he calls her "she", and so do we, his parents. And I want to try and balance the two in my mind.
Last time, six months in, I was sure it was a boy. Sure. I just knew it. So much so that I wasn't surprised when they said it was a boy at birth, and I had this feeling that I had already known. This time I have no such conviction (and I might add that according to most gestational metrics, I'm at seven months). I kind of flip flop back and forth between sure it's a girl and sure it's boy. So either I'm having twins (despite the single baby on the ultrasound) or the baby has indeterminate genitalia.
Man, am I going to be sorry I said that if it's actually true.
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