And he's obsessed.
This whole week, the couch cushions have been piled on the floor as he's tunneled his way under and over them declaring the whole time, "I'm a roller coaster!" He even has a
With the recent departure from my lovely, uneventful, emotionally-manageable second trimester, I can wholeheartedly relate to Carter's new-found identity.
Hormonally, I'm a roller coaster.
I remember the bipolar-like surges of emotions from my first trimester. I swore I would quit ministry at the slightest discouraging thing, even as I drove to church. Those were negative surges. And I cried one time, with real tears streaming down my cheeks, while Neal and I sat and ate at Ikea's food court. When Neal asked what was wrong, I replied that nothing was--the whole Ikea Experience was just so moving to me. Ikea promoted recycling and living simply (as shown by their 756 sq. ft. sample homes and awesome storage solutions), the cafeteria food was organic and affordable, and I felt like I was back in Europe. They were tears of joy. Right there. Over my Swedish meatballs.
So, this roller coaster is quite familiar to me.
It just sucks to be back.