Prep

It seems I haven't much to say these days. All attention is focused on the party we're having at our house (and yet not officially "hosting") this weekend. Despite having warned Simon that if he insisted on holding the festivities at our place HE would be responsible for all the food prep and house cleaning and I wasn't going to worry about it, I've still managed to work myself into a modest little frenzy about the state of the bathroom grout, among other unimportant things.

Well aware that I'm using party guests as leverage for pre-baby deep cleaning and organization, I nevertheless think that now is as good a time as ever to get the house in order, especially considering that we're rapidly approaching the point at which, if labor starts, my doctor won't stop it, which is one part exhilarating and about a dozen parts terrifying because THE HOUSE IS NOT CLEEEEAN.

Two parts of that terrified dozen is also in response to the latest pregnancy symptom, which is that I now experience shortness of breath leading up to every contraction (contractions that have, I should mention, slowed considerably now that I've learned to walk slowly, stand up slowly, sit down slowly, and not lift, carry, ascend or descend anything, or bend over). (I also get contractions when the baby moves around too much, which is a bummer because I do so love to poke at him. Someone should put a warning on my belly: Do Not Taunt Happy Fun Baby. Either that or tie my hands behind my back.)

Perhaps my main (and most legitimate) obsession in preparing for this party is to get the nursery in order. While not a "baby shower," the party is a celebration of Wombat's imminent arrival, and I imagine that our guests will at least be curious to see, in absence of the child himself, where we intend to contain him. Remember what it looked like a few weeks ago? You couldn't even take two steps into the room. What you can't see in that photo is the inside of the crib, which is currently cradling a handful of stuffed animals, some wall art, an especially child-unfriendly extension cord (something about it being coated with lead?), and a set of screwdrivers, allen wrenches, and drywall mounts. I've also caught Linus in there a handful of times, which means the sheets definitely need to be washed before we put an actual human child in there.

Now, here's where you get to feel genuinely sorry for Simon for the first time during this pregnancy. (Aside from my inability to make dinner, I've been surprisingly low-maintenance and pleasant throughout. He's been a complete darling about everything, for sure, but I still think he's had it relatively easy considering all the hormonal craziness I might have pulled.) So, I decided a while back that Wombat's dresser/changing station needed to be sanded and repainted and that his bookshelf needed to be stripped and refinished. (They were both dark blue, which was unacceptable.) Seeing as how I'm in a "delicate condition," however, Simon actually had to do most of the dirty work (albeit at his own insistence), and although I convinced him to let me sand and paint the dresser (after he convinced me to wear safety goggles and a mask), I wasn't allowed to go near the paint stripper, and that is how, in the last week, he's spent about six hours stripping paint off of this p.o.s. bookshelf that he never wanted to strip in the first place. I feel really guilty about it, but all I can do at this point is apologize and feed him chocolate and tell him that I would totally take over that burden myself if I could. (I expect him to do the same for me during childbirth--offer to switch places if only it were possible, and also to feed me chocolate to dull the pain.)

I don't have pics of the finished nursery quite yet (because it's not finished quite yet), but I do have some belly shots as well as (hopefully later today; WTF YouTube, COOPERATE!) a short video documenting the alien invasion of my midsection. This is what happens when you have unprotected sex, kids! Be ye warned.

30.5 weeks

32.5 weeks

wrote Leah at 9:20 PM | Comments (8)