Since the kids stayed with my in-laws last night and we weren't going to pick them up until the late afternoon, I had Big Plans. Sort of. They involved straightening up the house so I sort of knew off the bat that I wasn't going to get ALL of my Big Plans accomplished.
But I got out of bed and drove Phillip to work, I drove to the dealership to drop off the money we did not pay them for the car yesterday (I KNOW), I went to the grocery store, I came home and paid some bills, I folded some laundry, and then I was, well, out. Next thing I knew it was time to pick up Phillip.
(Perhaps I ate an entire personal size watermelon in there, at some point.)
Anyway, you know how I was all, "Oh, this pregnancy is so BORING and EASY and BLAH BLAH BLAH." Okay, so the boring still holds true, but I am 34 weeksish and beginning to feel like I need a Hoyer lift to get me off the couch.
(This is a Hoyer Lift. I know what a Hoyer Lift is because I once worked in an adult family home in which a Hoyer Lift was required for some residents and OH if only I'd had a blog during those eight or nine months of working, without any CPR or First Aid or nursing credentials whatsoever, in an adult family home owned by The Craziest Most Passive Aggressive Most Delusional Woman I Have Ever Met In My Life, Hands Down. THAT would have been a good blog.)
I was sitting on my in-laws couch tonight wondering if what I'm feeling lately are Braxton Hicks. I THOUGHT I had BH with Molly, probably a few weeks later than I am right now, and they were painful. And everyone says BH are not painful (though I try not to listen to Everyone). I think the contractions I felt were probably real (if completely USELESS) at that point, as they lasted about the two or three weeks before I had Molly (and she was 9 days early.)
These are more... well, honestly, I've just been assuming the baby is moving around making things temporarily awful. I can tell where her butt and feet are and sometimes, I don't know, she bends farther to scratch her toe or something and BOOM, my belly juts out even farther and everything is tight and hard and I'm all DUDE, GO BACK TO SLEEP. It seems to coincide with movement, is what I'm saying.
NOT THAT IT MATTERS. I mean, there's really no point in talking about any of it because either way, it's NORMAL and there's nothing you can DO except sit around until you have the baby.
I got out all the baby clothes. I scrounged a book shelf from another room and stacked all the clothes and diapers on that. Sainted Blog Reader Renata sent me a pump, so I'm all set to submit myself to THAT particular brand of humiliation. (THANK YOU, RENATA. P.S. I SUCK AT EMAIL.) I've set up my Jack & Molly Watchers for when I have to go the hospital. I have to wash the bedding, take a tour of the hospital so my husband knows where to steer my hunched over shouting-for-the-epidural self, decide where we want the baby car seat in the new car, and find/wash all the bottles and their miserable little pieces. I know it's still early, but I keep looking at my calendar and Freaking The Heck Out over what all we've got coming up in the next several weeks. I am even thinking about hiring a babysitter for Friday, WHILE I AM AT HOME, because we are having guests all weekend and WHEN AM I GOING TO MAKE BEDS? CLEAN TOILETS? FIGURE OUT WHAT WE WILL EAT?
Speaking of, can you recommend an excellent breakfast casserole? Of the savory or sweet variety? OR BOTH?
And don't say, "Oh, you just have to space all those things out over the course of the week and then you'll be all set for Friday," BECAAAAAAAUSE: 1) That's totally going to intrude on my nap schedule and 2) whatever I clean up/set up today is guaranteed to be filthy/destroyed by the following day. THEREFORE. It is best to do it all at once, hours before the guests arrive. Even if I won't get to see them until the NEXT day on account of being completely wiped out from the cleaning/setting up. GAH.