Sunday, Week 35, Day…4? Oh, who fucking cares at this point anyway. I’m not wishing for labor to happen at this very moment, but if at any given point in time after this next week it decides to start, that would be okay with me. I haven’t packed any bags yet so as not to curse myself into a June birth, and I keep putting off the finishing touches on the "nursery", hoping that the less prepared we are, the more likely I’ll be able to hold my baby by the middle of May. I can hardly think about anything except the pregnancy (so bear with me here for a while). I haven’t even hit 20 pounds yet, so I figure I owe it to myself to take in all the freakin’ junk food that I want. No more crappy peanut-butter and sprinkles sandwiches for me–I’m moving on up to chocolate syrup with a side of ice cream. Last pregnancy, last chance, right?
We’ve been talking a lot about recovery efforts and by that I mean "getting rid of all the weight I had gained pre-pregnancy," which, admittedly, was quite a bit. Yes, once upon a time I was a stone-cold fox…so, with that in mind, I’m already thinking about what kinds of torturous exercises I’ll have to do to get back into 2003 shape. Damnit. I asked Caleb if he could handle having a smokin’ hot wife again–after all, I’m not having any more kids so the extra fat could technically work as a deterent…but he assured me that with modern medicine and a little self control, he would be alright. I worried aloud if he would still love me for my mind, to which he sweetly replied, "everything that’s there and everything that isn’t–I love it all."
That’s actually the second nicest thing my husband’s ever said to me. The first nicest was "I’ve met some ho’s, and you were a poor excuse for a ho when I met you." Flattering? I think so.
Cheyenne should be out in California having both great times and sad realizations right about now. As far as I know, the wedding took place yesterday; I’m not sure when Mike planned on telling her about his mom, but I assume that if the conversation gone down yet, then it will today. And I agree with all you people–he should be the one to tell her–especially since he can (coincidentally) tell her in person this weekend. As a mother, I want to be there to comfort her, but it’s definitely not my place to break the news in its entireity…and I hope he does spare her a few of the ugly details…but again, not my place. Caleb and I will be here when she gets back to take the brunt of everything she’s gone through in just 4 short days.
On the job front, Caleb’s taken a laid-back approach this week. We’ve been swimming (in a 9X9 plastic three-ring pool), fishing in the neighborhood pond, gardening, lawn mowing, chit-chatting by our fire-pit under the stars…life’s been great and I think he needed this. I hope it won’t be too hard for him to break out of vacation mode when the time comes. My husband is one of those insanely lucky people who just walk in the light–I swear he’s got this golden bubble surrounding him at all times, so that even when something seemingly bad happens to him, within a week, things are turned around and life’s never been better. My little sister Katie is just like that and it makes me sick sometimes. Caleb’s such a people-charmer. He’ll be working again in no time.
A quick update: Cheyenne’s grandmother did pass away Saturday evening. She was 50 years old. She was diagnosed with MS over 10 years ago and was in so much pain to begin with; I hope their family takes a little comfort in knowing that she’s in a place she’s been ready and waiting for. Cheyenne has not yet heard about any of it, but sometime today before she heads back to Oklahoma, they’ll have the talk. I hate to see my little girl sad.