I feel a hunger; it’s a hunger. And it is vicious.
Kid #4 is sucking the lifeblood out of me–I’m pretty sure. I am straight drained, hitting the sack at no later than 8:00 every night, while Caleb stays up and his himself a little Netflix “Jericho”-thon.
Life is good.
The kids are stoked. Mia is deadset on having a sister named Alvin. Merrick can’t wait for his little brother Mad Dog to get here. I’m serious.
Of course I love these names, because it proves my family isn’t lame. I can’t wait to have this baby, and along with the birth announcement comes a disclaimer that says: “It’s okay–the mother is an artist.”
And as we all know, artists do what we want.
I went to Barnes & Noble today to find some books for Merrick about becoming a big brother. Problem: there is a stunning lack of acceptable reading material when it comes to this subject. It’s either some suckily-illustrated baby story with about 5 words total, or it’s some free-love hippie book complete with graphic diagrams and words like “uterus” and …and…I can’t even say it because–I’m sorry–me and my 4-year-old son? We are not that close.
Cheyenne seems at ease with the prospect of having yet another brother or sister. I think it’s because she knows she’s in no danger of losing her own room. That, and she’ll be off to college before the baby is even one year old, which she’s actually kind of sad about.
I’m trying not to be nervous. I’m trying not to over-analyze every little ache and pain and symptom and non-symptom. I don’t know if it’s the miscarriage I had a couple years ago or if it’s just I’m that many more years older and wiser, but the carefree joys of early pregnancy are wrecked for me. Caleb can talk me out of my impending anxiety attacks by saying “I’ve got a good feeling about this one; we’re just going to roll with whatever God’s plan for this baby is.” He’s super-cool like that.
Art With a Heart is this Sunday. I finagled myself an invitation to help the children paint again this year, because the experience was too awesome to only partake in once. I am really looking forward to it. I wonder if I’ll get to work with the same two kids? I wonder how they’re doing? I wonder if they’re still stuck on monkeys and Yorkshire terriers?
Tonight I’m going on a retreat for our church girls. Down to the mountains of Oklahoma–and yes, they exist (somewhat). I just hope the people that I’m riding with don’t mind when I stop the car for my 3 millionth potty break.