I’M NOT PREGNANT. I finally reached my I Absolutely Must Know point when my previously sleeping-through-the-night baby turned into a pooping, wiggling, screeching baby who got me up at 2 am to change his disgusting diaper…only to fill it again the second I lay him back down. TWICE. The thought of having two of these monsters was just too much. Thank God for fancy digital pregnancy tests. I was so bleary and tired at that point interpreting pink lines would have been as impossible as interpreting Sanskrit. NOT PREGNANT.
On the down side, I guess this means I’ve just been feeling fat and crappy because I’m fat and crappy.