Sigo siendo el Rey (I'm still the king)

It is official, Domingo will continue to be the prince of the house. The bun in the oven is a girl bun. I had all kinds of feelings going into this pregnancy, shocked? I mean mixed feelings about what gender I preferred to birth this time around. I know it's a really dumb thing to worry about and spend even a minute thinking about. The main thing of course being that we have a healthy happy pregnancy and healthy happy baby at the end of it.
The healthy part of the pregnancy is (knocking violently on wood) coming along great, the happy part, I'm not so sure. I cannot tell a lie (well don't want to right now anyway) I do not enjoy being pregnant. I am not one of those people who love the warm glowing warming glow of impending motherhood. I don't relish my increasing mass, my widening girth, my expanding waistband. I especially don't enjoy the heart burn, back ache, and ridiculous size of my ever-growing and gravity-suffering bosom. I think even Domingo has noticed that because he has started putting his hands and other various items down my shirt when he is in my lap and laughing hysterically. Not cool. But besides the physical complaints of which I could go on and on, it's more the emotional/mental side of things that is hardest for me. I have enormous guilt about what this new little addition will mean for Domingo. Then there is the little matter of the bill. The projected 400k to send two little guys to state college 17 and 19 years from now is nothing to sneeze at. But all that is in the hazy future so why get bent out of shape? (If I had a spirit animal it'd be the grasshopper from the ant and the grasshopper- why work today when I can play, oh, you say because I'm going to freeze to death come winter? Oh well, it was worth it.) The real reason I hate pregnancy (and probably the reason why this is only the second post since we found out we were expecting back in November) is the constant lingering worry. I mean we didn't have the bestest most awesome time ever last time, and while I will admit that I've been so much more nonchalant this time around, it's still not super fun. I haven't been obsessively checking the due date calendar clicking off each day, and for a while there I didn't even know what week we were in (last time around I could tell you the week and how many days- he was born 38w 6 d) but I have been kind of oscillating between purposefully not thinking about it, running around after a toddler, and waiting for the other shoe to drop. So far we've been incredibly lucky this time around, and there has honestly been nothing to report (once I came free from the crippling and God-awful nausea that nearly did me in that is). Which is great, but I still can't relax. I might have to chalk this one up to crazy-lady-worry-genes, but until this little bean is out in the world (giving me a whole new set of things to worry about) I'll be here in my state of cat-like readiness. Ready for what you ask? To sit on my butt on "bedrest"? Hahahaha! Bedrest with a toddler, that's hilarious! I guess what I need to do is just be ready for what ever this pregnancy throws at us, even if it's uneventfulness for the next 18 weeks and 5 days!