Ain't That a Kick in the...

When I was pregnant with Cubby One, I became highly annoyed with my ob/gyn, because he started asking me around, oh, TEN WEEKS if I was feeling the baby yet. Thanks to having read every single pregnancy book on the market within the first two days of gestation, I knew that it was probably way too early, but it still bothered me because a) I was impatient to feel those kicks, and b) I really don't need any help coming up with things to worry about, including hints that something is "wrong" with me or my offspring because I can't feel a penny-sized (OK, well, Dorito-sized) embryo floating in my uterus. Thank you very much.

This time around, though...call me crazy, but I swear that I've been feeling little taps in there for over a week now. I'm only 12 weeks, but sure enough, at my appointment last week, the doc asked me if I felt anything yet. This time, his question was no longer irritating--now I have an actual, medical professional indulging what may be my imagination, but (preferably) may be Cubby Two positively rocking OUT in there. I feel it all the time now, and while this does not bode well for later months, when he/she increases in strength and size, it's awesome for the time being. (I should add here that his/her heartbeat sounds like hoofbeats, so I'm starting to collect evidence that I'm actually growing a My Little Pony in there, which would explain the frequency of the kicks. Fingers crossed for a purple mane!)

The other person doing a lot of kicking these days is Cubby One; she's also added Throwing Things and Random Screaming to her arsenal of toddler behaviors. It's hard to be mad at her, though, because as soon as she aims a kick at my belly while she's on the changing table, and sees the Stern Look on my face, she launches into Parrot Mode and repeats my shpiel: "We don't kick Mommy! We HUG Mommy and KISS Mommy!" And then she does just that. In fact, the other morning, we had the following conversation:

Cubby: "Grammy YUVS trains!"
Me: "She loves trains?"
Cubby: "Yeah. And Uncle Ryan loves trains, too!"
Me: "Does Kiwi love trains?"
Cubby: "Noooooo." (Lies. As if it's Grammy who insists on running 90 miles an hour out her front door every time a train whistle blows in the distance, on the off chance she might catch a glimpse.)
Me: "Well, what DOES Kiwi love?"
Cubby: (quiet for a minute, then looks up with a grin) "Kiwi yuvs Mommy!"

Every time she pitches a sippy cup at my face for the fun of it, or aims another kick (inadvertently, I hope) in the direction of Tiny Yittle Baby, I choose to remember AWWWW moments like that. Her potential for mischief and mayhem may be growing, but her preciousness knows no bounds!