Sometimes I’m really proud to say this, and sometimes I feel super guilty saying this after hearing the horror stories of my friends with Princess-Kate-Like-Morning-Sickness. You ready for this?

I went my entire first pregnancy without puking.

It’s true. It was crazy. Conception through delivery, no barfing. I was queasy and uncomfortable in the first trimester, but it never resulted in toilet hugging sessions. I felt like Jerry Seinfeld in that episode of Seinfeld where he explained he hadn’t thrown-up since 1980. It was 1993 by that time. That’s a huge vomitless accomplishment if you ask me.

When I made it through the first trimester this time I thought I was in the clear. No such luck. Here’s what went down, well, came back up…

Monday I had an event for a client at work where I was filming a presentation. A large part of my job is video work, stemming from my news shooting and editing days. We were at a very nice local hotel for the event. I got there early and had everything set up and ready to go. The woman I was working with was very kind and we chatted about families and I mentioned that I was expecting my second baby. As it often happens, when you tell someone you’re pregnant, they offer you food. She walked me over to the snack table of charming carnival food the hotel had on display for the event. They had soft pretzels ya’ll. Soft freakin’ pretzels. I suddenly needed something salty and was excited to indulge. I tweeted out this pic on Instagram…

That’ll teach me to brag. That’ll also teach me to dip anything in mustard, a condiment I’ve long had an aversion to. The 90 minute presentation got underway and I happily panned and zoomed across the room. The speaker’s remarks were interesting and I learned a lot. I only ate about half of the pretzel. Suddenly I wasn’t hungry. About halfway in I felt some rumbles. I got really hot and then really cold. I started feeling dizzy. I looked at the mirror over the snack table. Ooph! Pale. I looked down at what was left of the pretzel next to me. Ugh! I looked around to see if anyone was looking at me. I wiped sweat off my head. Oh God! No! Not here.

I quickly zoomed out, left the camera rolling and tried not to run, but just walk out of the room with any dignity I had left under the sweat. When I hit the hallway I sprinted to the restroom. I got to the first stall in the ladies room of this four-star hotel and made like a drunk in a first-star hotel. I cursed the pretzel the whole time.

Just the smell of mustard could do me in until this baby is born. I’m thinking this may have been just something disagreeing with me, not morning sickness. So maybe I can just say I made it through two pregnancies with no morning sickness? Is that too braggy? Yeah, maybe I’ll just shut up.

I’m sitting with my feet up in my new living room with boxes scattered around and my darling husband talking to the TV about NFL draft picks. I’m deliriously tired and deliriously happy.  We almost didn’t get to move in because of idiot underwriters’ contract mistakes and slow bank workers, but we’re here.  This week I’ve felt stretched very thin between demands at work and the demands of moving, but we made it.  I keep looking around in disbelief that we are finally here.

We cried when we left the old house for the last time thinking of all the memories in that house.  It’s funny, just a few days later it feels right to be here. Let the new memories begin…

Oh hey! We’re homeless and spending two nights in a hotel while we finalize things for one house and then move into another.  It’s a tad chaotic, but fun.  We’re making the most of it.

We’ve been having a lot of discussions with Charlotte about babies, I had to share this recent conversation:

Me: “Charlotte, what do babies do?”

Her: “Um…they cwy!”

Me: “That’s right! They cry. What else do they do?”

Her: “Um…they sweep!’

Me: “That’s right! They sleep. What else?”

Her: “They crap!”

::pause::

::look at Greyson as his mouth drops open::

Me: “Charlotte! That is not a nice thing to say! Where did you hear that?”

Her (looking confused): “They crap!”

Greyson: “Charlotte that’s not how we say that.”

Her (looking confused): “They crap der hans!”

Us (backpeddling, feeling relieved): “Oh! Yes! Babies do clap their hands! That’s so good!”

Charlotte went on to sing a rousing rendition of “If You’re Happy And You Know It Crap Your Hands.” You can imagine Greyson’s hand motions to this version of the song later in the night after Charlotte had gone to bed.

I’ve seen and heard lots of women lately identifying themselves as “boy moms” or “girl moms,” meaning they are the mothers of children of only one sex or another.  There are even cute poems on Pinterest and fun t-shirts to celebrate this identification.

I have many friends with sons and no daughters.  99% of these women are wonderful and never say things to disparage other mothers.  But, some things have been bugging me lately when I’ve talked to a couple of  ”boy moms” I know.

• Comment #1 from a boy mom at a “Mommy and Me” type of class- “I’m SO GLAD I had boys!  It’s so much easier!”

Okay, so you just said that in front of my daughter.  Granted, she is only two-years-old and probably doesn’t understand, but since you were so comfortable saying it, I imagine you would not edit yourself in front of a little girl who is say, 5-8 years-old and would know exactly what you meant by that comment.  Basically, you just told my daughter she’s not good enough that it’s a huge hassle for me to be raising her.  

Ma’m, you are the example of women for your son.  You just made that comment in front of him as well.  What is he supposed to think about girls and women when you disparage your own gender?

• Comment #2 from a woman with one son contemplating having another baby- “I just don’t even know what I would do with a girl!”

Um, okay.  YOU WERE ONCE A GIRL!  Someone knew what to do with you.  It’s not like female humans are a different species or something.  It’s still a baby.

Now, let me say.  I’m not innocent in the “Girl Mom” versus “Boy Mom” thing.  During a discussion about whether boys or girls are easier, I took it a little personal when a boy mom said, “Girl stuff is just too much.  All the bows and tights and stuff.  I mean, I don’t have to deal with periods and emotional teens and stuff like that.  Ugh!”  I fired back with, “Well, it’s boys who drink too much, drive too fast and don’t call their mothers!”

I am sorry for that comment.  I in no way meant to imply that all young men behave like that.  I probably shouldn’t have taken her comments personally.  It just grates on my nerves sometimes.  I LOVE having a daughter.  Not because she’s a girl, but because she’s ours.  I didn’t care when I was pregnant if she was a boy or a girl and I don’t care now.  I love her for who she is.

Let’s drop the titles and just be “moms.”  Okay?

So, as I was writing this, I started thinking about all my good friends who might think I’m talking about them.  I’m not.  Ya’ll are awesome.  I’m talking about acquaintances.  I promise.  

I spent this Easter feeling very blessed.  Just to update all of you, this is where we get to live.  We found a house.  A home.  We are likely moving on our 8th wedding anniversary next month.  We’re holding on.  April is going to be a whirlwind of a month.  I miss this space when I’m not writing regularly.  Bare with me.  Life is exciting right now.

For the next few weeks we will be soaking up every last memory in our little townhouse.  It’s one of my favorite places in the world and we have to leave it.  It’s very bittersweet.

I hope your Easter was this happy…