This is the face I see every morning after I put on my work clothes and not my running clothes. I am initially greeted with a hopeful wagily butt that fades into disappointed eyes. Our days of three or four early morning runs a week are no more. And walks just don’t cut it for either of us. I haven’t run since my half.
I just haven’t felt like it because I am getting bigger by the hour and because of all the effing smoke. I feel like a bad mom. So I let her sleep in her favorite spot that is usually off limits (like the only place off limits in our whole house)–on our bed, which is allowed, but she prefers to be on the sheets. On the sheets is only allowed on weekend mornings.
I sometimes wonder if my heart is big enough to love yet another creature. I feel so full with my man and my animals. And I don’t like it at all when people say things like my animals will lose significance when the baby arrives. No way. Alice and I will always spoon under the covers.
