First of all, after reading the last post's comments, I'm feeling like I should amend my husband-related complaining of yesterday. I think maybe I made him sound selfish, when in fact I was mostly just grumpy about the fact that even though he DOES take turns getting up with Addy, I always wake up every time anyways due to that internal baby monitor that kicked in the second she was born. And he certainly does his share of child-care, like for instance in the evenings when I go to my aerobics class. Not to mention that getting a babysitter to help me out during the day was HIS idea. In fact, he thought I could use the help now and even urged me to have her start BEFORE the baby came! So compared to most women, I think I have very few husband gripes overall. Just for the record.
I do have illness gripes and pregnancy gripes, though, fear not! Jim is still very sick with some sort of horrible upper respiratory hacky thing, Addy has been running a fever, and I am feeling queasy and achy and have headaches- basically, like I have morning sickness again, which is a terrifying thought! But I also have a bit of congestion, so I'm hoping I just feel nauseous from sinus drainage or something equally unpleasant, but virus related and temporary. I have heard horror stories of women who get full-blown morning sickness again in their third trimester, and this thought makes me want to... I don't know. Go to bed in despair and say to heck with it all.
Also, I'm getting really itchy to get that baby's room put together. It is currently still painted yellow and blue with pink flowers around the ceiling, but has the boy curtains hung and the boy bedding in the crib. A can of sage green paint sits hopefully beside the crib, dreaming of fulfilling its destiny. There are baskets of baby clothes, washed and folded but still not put away. Bouncy seats and pack'n'plays and exersaucers, all needing their cloth parts washed and their plastic parts wiped, cover almost every square inch of floor space. All of Addy's old clothes are still in storage in the closet, housed in a teetering stack of Rubbermaid containers. In short, the room is a mess, and it's beginning to make me nervous.
By this point in Addy's pregnancy, I was already re-cleaning and arranging the room because it had been put together perfectly for so long. I remember going in and refolding clothes, touching the blankets and admiring the impossibly small socks. Now, I keep thinking, a little frantically, "One more month! One more month to get all this done!" Because in my mind, I still think of thirty-six weeks as possibly being the end point, and I don't want to push my luck and just assume that I have plenty of time when in fact TIME is RUNNING OUT!
The stress is driving me to eat another cookie. More later.