While I like tradition when it comes to the holidays (decorating the tree, having a big family meal, etc.), I hate when tradition tries to dictate what I should and shouldn’t do. So, here I am, completely throwing tradition out the window by telling everyone (or the few lost souls who read this blog) that I am pregnant.

Yes, you read that right. I am in my seventh week of pregnancy, which according to some people, is too early to say anything. But guess what? I am turning 35 years old in one month. This might be the only time I ever get to tell people this news, so I’m taking advantage of it.

The last few weeks have been up and down. Scared. Freaked out. Exhausted. Excited. Nervous. Panicked. Exhausted. Have I mentioned exhausted? It’s mind-numbing exhaustion. Think Nyquil 24-hours a day. Throw in some migraines for good measure and that pretty much sums up my last few weeks.

I don’t think I’m at the point yet where I’m jumping up and down. I’m still dealing with the reality of this whole situation. It will happen. Right now, Patrick and I are in what I like to call the sarcasm stage. Sarcasm and humor are good ways to deal with life-changing events.

So mark your calendars for August 3, 2008 because that’s when the newest member of our family is due to arrive. I sure hope he/she gets Patrick’s dimples and laid back attitude and my empathy and knack for spelling and grammar. If this child can escape being a spaz like me, I think we’ll be just fine…