I’m days away. My mom is over the moon. I’m quite hesitant. The Husband is nonchalant.
In these last days, I realized we’re woefully underprepared. We still don’t have a name. The bills are due, and I’m the only one with all the passwords to pay them, and I’m waiting on the paycheck. Not to mention, my doctor’s office would prefer if we prepay so that we don’t have to worry about the bill after the baby. We still owe a couple hundred dollars. I finally dragged The Husband to the hospital so he knew where it was, but he was on the phone the whole time there. I’m hoping backtracking will stick in his mind. I still don’t have a take-home outfit or a baby book or a new cover for Tornado E’s old seat, since over four years can really wear out denim. I need to finish the receiving blankets I started. I have to wash the stroller cover. I have to finish washing the baby clothes, but I need to put the clean ones in something. I know. Details that I shouldn’t worry about.
But in the last days, if I sit in one place for five minutes without eating, I fall asleep. So if any of my posts don’t seem to flow as well or don’t make the same amount of sense as they used to, it’s because I fell asleep in the middle and sometimes had two naps during a writing session.
Since I’m falling asleep, I’m behind in my blog reading and commenting. And doing the monthly budget, but we won’t talk about that. I miss reading on my bloggy buddies. I look forward to reading everyone off my phone, which I did last week, but I miss commenting so you know I was there.
In these final days, I’m sore. My hips are sore. My feet are sore. My thighs are sore. My butt is sore. Really? My butt? I never had that happen before. I’m searching for stretches to loosen those muscles up. But nothing to kick in labor. As I mentioned before, I’m hesitant.
In these final days, I realize my patience is wearing thin. And that my kids can’t to do anything without me telling them a dozen times or yelling. Oh, and Tornado E is developing teenage attitude. And Tornado S had decided he’s a baby. Should I drop the F-bomb now?
Lately, I want a nut bar. A bar of nuts. Nuts in a bar form. Don’t say Payday because The Husband and my dad already asked me that. I just want a healthy snack of nuts . . . in bar form. It reminds me in the last days before Tornado E was born I started searching for the perfect trail mix, and I ended up making my own because I couldn’t find anything I wanted.
You know, fresh coconut sounds good right now. So does vanilla ice cream. Separately, not together.
In the last day or so, I finally packed my bag. Mainly because I was tired of hearing my mom nag me about it.
In the last several days, it dawned on me that I should be taking it easy. Like sitting and resting more. You know so I don’t send myself into early labor, since I’m hesitant about it. Bless The Husband for having a laptop so I can write from the cushy couch.
For the last several days, I’ve been trying to vacuum, but something keeps barring the way. I wonder if I should give up. I also have started asking The Husband to take out the trash. I may try nagging again.
In the last days, I wonder if I’m having some sort of psychic block that keeps me from having the baby (NOTE: I meant to say naming the baby, but maybe that was a Fruedian slip). Maybe I have some real deep issue that needs to be solved. Or I’m a procrastinater.
It’s just a few more days.