Huzzah! Declan's Pennsylvania birth certificate and Daniel's and my marriage certificate are now pretty much all translated. I was really dragging my feet because dealing with official cross-cultural phrases and antiquated English grammar is not fun after an already-long-day of being spit on by a toddler (Declan's newest trick).
Maybe I can resolve to a pre-midnight bedtime from now on. Hopefully the people at TECO will find both documents acceptable tomorrow.
Current pesky thoughts (I shall not deem them worries as to give them too much power):
1. How will I be able to keep nursing Declan until he's at least two when I suspect I'm starting to acquire feeding aversion?
2. How would the pregnancy affect my milk supply, and vice versa?
3. How am I going to handle two kids at once?
4. Will I get truly fat and never ever be able to return to my former athletic form?
Perhaps I can take a lesson from today, when I went grocery shopping with the stroller and Declan and realized upon arriving at our doorstep -- or, rather, the long steep flight of rocky steps that leads up to the side of the house our landlords live -- that I must somehow carry a toddler, a stroller, and essentially three full bags of produce simultaneously for a (to me at the time) daunting vertical distance.
It worked out in the end. Objectively, truly not a big deal. But it felt like a giant victory. So maybe these pesky thoughts will fizzle into such small victories in retrospect. One hopes.
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