33, not one of my better birthdays...

So, the alternate title to this post was "F.U. Morning Sickness!"
Letters from my second grade students were the highlight of my birthday. Well, next to Tim leaving me a birthday message on my phone. (He NEVER leaves messages.) It was cute. He even sang me a little made up song.

When the husband arrived home from work, he asked, "Where do you want to go eat?"
"I don't want to eat, " I mumbled from my fetal position on the couch. So, as it ends up we ordered a carry-out pizza. I managed to force some in my mouth, brush my teeth and make it to bed before 9pm.

The birthday was pretty uneventful this year, thanks to morning sickness (a.k.a. all day sickness, in my case). I'm hoping it will subside soon. I don't know how much more I can take.

In other news, Audrey, during our nightly conversations, says to me, "Can we build a snowman?" (They must have read a book about this at day care, I'm guessing.) Anyway, I say, "Well, when it snows we can." She says, with a very thoughtful look on her face, "I want a brown snowman, not a white one. Brown."
???
I will be inquiring about this brown snowman further.

Yesterday, Tim was driving home with her while listening to NPR. The were discussing the elections. Tim asks Audrey, "Do you think Hillary Clinton will be president?"
"Noooooooooo."
"Do you think Barack Obama will become president?"
"Noooooooooo."
"Do you think Giuliani will?"
"Nooooooo."
'Mitt Romney?"
"NOOOOOOOOOO!"
"Well, who do you think will become president Gubby?"
Without missing a beat she answered, "GrandDaddy."

Tim asked her tonight, "Is Mommy having a baby?"
"Yup."
"Where is it?"
She says, "In her stummy."
Then adds, "I cannot find it though."

After dinner we were hanging out in the living room. Audrey took everything off but her undies and ran around the room. She jumped up on a chair that had a stack of CDs on it. Tim has warned her several times not to play with the CDs. He has forbidden her to lay a finger on them.
So, she jumps up in this chair and has her back to us. She's facing the CDs and is so close to touching them. Tim starts to open his mouth to snap at her and she says, so playfully, "I'm not touching them. I'm not touching them."
Tim was bound to get her though. He argued, "Yes you are. Your foot is touching them. Quit touching them."
"I'm not touching them. I'm not. I'm not touching them."

She already has her dad figured out. Awesome.