L'Alpe is no match for him....

Just had to post this pic of Eric riding up L'Alpe d'Huez a few weeks ago while he was in France for a school conference. I watched the riders in the Tour ride up it this morning while I slogged away on my trainer. This baby has decided to live INSIDE my pelvis, so I've been temporarily sidelined from running:-(. I'm far too shaky on the bike under the best of circumstances, so I stick to the trainer, which, when you're watching the Tour de France on TV and can pretend that you're riding in the Alps instead of your bedroom, is not all that bad. Anyway, I was impressed to note that Eric had done it faster than the slowest Tour riders today. Of course, they'd already ridden over a hundred miles and two other mountains, but still. He looks so cute:). He thinks I tolerate his cycling because I know he would never give it up, but I really am so proud of what a good athlete he is. I'll always remember arriving at the start of a race we did together last fall and being ready to tell anyone who looked at me funny, "I'm with him!"

Another random note- while eating dinner the other day, little Eric asked if we were poor. I laughed and told him no, but Eric, ever the economist, launched into an explanation of relative wealth, explaining that if you compare us to the average Brazilian, who has a dirt floor, no car and plastic furniture, then we're very rich, but if you compare us to someone with tons of money, like.....like.....and as he struggled for a name the kids would recognize, Brigham cheerfully blurted, "Tom Selleck?" That made our night.

One more random note- I really don't know how much longer I can take being ostracized in my own home. Lately, whenever Eric or one of the boys approaches me, they start to speak and then pull the neck of their shirt up over their nose and back away in disgust. This is because for about an hour after every meal I can be found at the computer, the sink, or wherever I happen to be with cup full of regurgitated food close by. Yes. Regurgitated. My favorite reaction to this lovely pregnancy symptom (separate and distinct from vomiting) was from our friend Rod, a Radiology resident who said, without missing a beat, "yeah, that progesterone's a killer isn't it?" It certainly is. I long for the day when my stomach returns to its normal capacity. I've been told to eat six small meals a day. I refuse to do that. I'm pregnant. I get real hungry. I want a MEAL, not a wimpy little snack.

So, for the next 11 weeks I plan to eat like a normal person, not graze like some cow, and then proceed to upchuck a good ten percent of what I've eaten. Don't worry, my weight gain has not been affected in the least since I always eat whenever I'm hungry, it's just really, really gross. And a bit of a problem when we eat out or with friends. You should see the warning looks Eric shoots me as I reach for dessert. I should really go though, my cup is about to overflow, and not with love....