Caleb woke up feeling especially antsy this morning. I don’t know if he’s just suddenly anxious to get the house done, or if nesting fever has finally bitten him in the face like it has me, but it was kind of annoying and I instantly made a vow to myself that I would never nest again.
Which became untrue the second I thought of this great idea to make a bassinet out of a laundry basket and a dog bed. Brilliant, right? Why should my baby have to snooze on a thin plastic pad that came with the pack-n-play, when dogs be living the life with their Petsmart therapeutic foam mattresses? I’m just saying.
Anyway Caleb’s got 99 problems (but a bassinet ain’t one) to work on before this next minute is over. We’ve got garage doors coming in next week, plus air condition, well, septic–and–this is the best part–a storm shelter!
Let’s camp out right here for a second: a storm shelter. Tornado season 2015 can just bite me.
At some point he will be installing boxes and running wire and pouring concrete shower bases and just generally building our actual house, a feat which I did not even slightly expect from him, even though he said he would build this house. I thought it was a metaphor representing our ability to hire other people to do the work.
I was wrong.
In pregnant news, our baby is a hairy chimpanzee who is already jacking with my head by cozying up in a breech position. She’s crazy active and still has plenty of room to move, so I’m betting that she’ll get her little face turned back around before the big day arrives.
The gestational diabetes is under control. I am successfully pricking my finger 3 million times a day, eating right and hating on carbs–and everything? Freaking has carbs in it. Well, everything I love anyways.
It’s super hot outside. Last week God spoiled me with temps in the 60s and 70s–this week the entire state is a lovely blackish-red color on the weather maps. The air is choking me and I can feel my skin sizzling should I spend more than 60 seconds outdoors. I had high hopes of taking the kids to a splash pad or water park of some sort this week; and then I realized I would never be able to sit outside and watch them play for even 5 minutes–not when it’s literally 100 degrees in the shade.
It’s late July, in Oklahoma, and I am 8 months pregnant with my fourth child: welcome to the suck, kids! We’re indoors from here on out. By the way–school starts in 3 weeks.