I promise I'll stop complaining. Soon. Like in 26 weeks or so.

I didn't get the barfs, at least not in the form everyone else in my family had. I just get the special, "letting-you-know-I'm-still-here-invading-your-body" throw-ups sent from my sweet fetus every day.

But before this blog turns into crazy "pregnancy complaint central," because I'm sure you all tune in here to get updates on my gastrointestinal distress, quick let me post some pictures of fun things we've done that I've forgotten about already.

On November 14 we went to Disney on Ice. The girls traded us their Halloween candy, minus a small sandwich bag full, to get their tickets to this event. We got good tickets through Gpa Reid's work and the girls and their cousins were awed and in wonder of all the beautiful princesses.

It was a good trade for the Halloween candy and a fun family activity. Next year I'm totally dressing up, but not as a princess, as the scary, scary Maleficent.

Thanksgiving weekend, in between all the barfing, we put up our tree.

At first, while I was busy putting out the nativity, we let the girls put the ornaments on the tree. I think they've inherited my decorating skills.

This my friends, is the only untouchable ornament on our tree. It is an ornament that my first grade teacher claimed that I painted. I'm pretty sure the room mothers painted it for me, but hey, I'm pretending that early on I had skills. Now this poor clay ornament has been glued a few times, but I kind of like it. And I'm really impressed that my first grade teacher even attempted an activity like this with 30-ish small children. She must have been amazing.

Since our ornament collection is sparse, we decided to spice it up a bit by painting some clear balls. Mike said, in his best engineering voice, "We need a centrifuge to make these."

Kenzie had a great time squirting the paint into the balls and swirling it around. She's really enjoying doing crafty things lately. She's always asking me to help her make something. Maybe she didn't get the memo about me being the Anti-Martha.

Here's one of our painted ornaments. For a craft anarchist, I think squirting paint into clear ornaments and shaking them is a pretty good activity.

And last but not least, here is our favorite hypochondriac (this is her latest bed time ruse. "My bum hurts." "My elbow hurts." "My arm hurts." "My leg hurts.") showing us her highly inventive princess shoes. She's modeling her beloved cupcake dress, which she asks me everyday if she can wear. Of course she hates tights, because they ruin the "twirl" effect. (It took me about 20 times to understand her version of twirl. "ihl" is about how she says it.)