I am 31 weeks pregnant. If all goes well, in 7-10 weeks I will be holding our newest bundle of joy. I will be flooded with wonderful “oh aren’t you the cutest little thing I’ve ever seen” hormones.
In a month or two, if all goes to plan, I’ll be hit with this amazing urge to clean and prepare a nurturing stable physical environment for our little one. My husband loves the nesting instinct that has transformed his slightly inept housewife into a cleaning wizard twice before.
I’m not there yet.
Not even close.
With still at least a month to go, the last thing on my mind is cleaning. As my uterus grows I’m more concerned with things such as not vomiting, not losing control of my bladder and not losing my ever-shortening temper with the two little darlings already in my care. I am at full capacity. Throw in some angst about finishing the physics course that is due about the same time as baby 3.0, and we have a situation where I’m a portable (although not as much as I would like to me) mini volcano, ready to erupt at any moment.
It’s not all bad.
It’s quite fun really.
What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger and all that jazz. God is giving me plenty of opportunities to experience his grace, mercy, and strength. Love is patient, love is patient, love is patient, love is patient.
My children are far from patient.
Alexis can hardly wait for baby 3p0 to be born. Mostly because we can’t have Alexis’ birthday until after baby is born.
William is getting all the extra cuddles and affection he can get before the baby is born. I think he’s concerned he will be replaced, which is very sad. Nobody could ever replace William or Alexis.
Despite some mild fear, the kids are in general extremely excited about the impending arrival.
They are making up for my apathy by nesting for me.
But they are not nesting like a pregnant woman about to pop. They’re nesting like birds. Teeny tiny obnoxiously noisy absolutely crazy but ridiculously cute birds.
Birds take whatever they can find from wherever they can find it, and take it back to their nest. They make it comfortable, colourful, attractive.. To their little birdy eyes.
We have things lovingly discarded everywhere. Every single square inch of our rather large house is covered in all sorts of wonderful treasures. I need a picnic lunch to get to the floor and back these days, so I’m,
just being lazy letting them express their creativity.
They’re also helping me prepare the nest before baby is born by systematically pointing out dangerous items. Anything that can be smashed, split to release thousands of tiny pieces, or cut people, is being ‘accidentally’ maliciously destroyed by my little cherubs. Oh how lucky this baby is to have such big protectors. If things continue at this rate we will have no dramas keeping the house tidy when bub is born because there won’t be anything left.
I do tend to exaggerate, of course, mostly due to having approximately 5 hours sleep over the last 147 nights. I kid, of course. My little darlings are helping me learn to tolerate broken nights.
I only laugh to keep from weeping.
Cause it’s just too hard to stay hydrated enough as it is.
Pregnancy, third time around.
Crazy times but all worth it in the end.