Honey, It’s time
I’m getting an early arrival. This little person, creature, adorable parasite has decided that it doesn’t particularly feel like getting any bigger (per the ultrasound I had on Monday it’s only 5 lbs) so the doctors have said it needs to come out. We check in to “The Birthplace” this afternoon at 4:30. Sometime in the next 24-48 hours, or so, Joshua and I will go from 14 years of two-ness, to a threesome with one party requiring ALL the attention.
I’m excited, terrified, totally calm, and totally off the wall about it. Joshua is trying to keep himself calm, but I know at some point I’m going to have to peel him off the ceiling.
And then we’ll come home, we’ll put the baby down in its car seat, and we’ll stare at it. And wait for it to do something. Anything. And we’ll have to deal with it. Not a nurse, not my mum, not some random passerby that we can thrust the baby at and say “Fix it! Make it stop!”
So we wait, for the arrival of Alice or Flynn.
Have I ever mentioned how not patient I am? It’s been a very long 37 weeks, and now it’s time for the next step…
Adventures In Candy Making
I made buttermilk pecan pralines. At least they look pretty.
If one more person tells me I’m nuts…
I hate baby showers. Loathe them. I love babies, love buying my friends and family presents for their lovely kids, but there is nothing worse than a a baby shower.
I dislike the idea of registering for gifts. I understand there is a practical thought behind it, but it leaves me feeling icky so I have refused to do it. After all, one of the many, many reasons we didn’t have a wedding was so I wouldn’t have to suffer through a bridal shower.
People, though, seem to get peeved with me for having these feelings. Actually, forget peeved. Some of them are down right mad. Maybe they think I’m judging them, maybe I am. I just know it’s not something I want. If I had my way no one would give me gifts. They would just be happy for me, maybe come visit, or bother to ask me how I’m feeling.
Alright, enough whining and sounding like a colossal brat. I’m just gearing up for a very LONG two weeks that involve several doctor’s appointments for me, a pre-op and surgery for Joshua (minor surgery, but still), a weird work schedule, and some family issues that keep bubbling on the back burner threatening to boil over, also a brunch with my oldest friends that i fear is actually a stealth shower, hence my babyish whinging.
By the way, yes, I know, first world problems. We should all be so lucky. I am a terrible person at 6 am on a Sunday, maybe always.
Husband installed Skyrim on my computer.
It was nice knowing all of you.
I learned something very important yesterday. As a caffeine addict, and a person playing host to a miniature human, i should not, under any circumstances, skip the one cup of coffee per day I allow myself.
Yesterday was a very, very dark day indeed.
It’s been a long time
I’m a terrible sleeper. I have trouble falling asleep. I don’t stay asleep. I have difficulty falling back asleep when I wake up in the middle of the night. The smallest noises disturb me, and I almost never wake up to my alarm clock but stare at it until one minute before it’s set to make it’s awful noise. Because I am playing host to a small, growing human I am epically exhausted most every night and therefore sleep straight through. This is great.
Not great? Actually having to hear my alarm go off everyday at 5:05 am. That is pure torture.
Accurate feeling of the day
It’s that time again
Haunted Happenings. the nearly 30 day period when I avoid downtown Salem like it’s a war zone, especially on weekends.
Bring on November 1st.