The thunder rolls…and the lightning strikes!
Shout out to Garth Brooks and the song that must have been in my dream nightmare the other night when I woke up in a sweat of sheer panic. This is what I like to call the STORM before the STORM! (Not to be confused with the calm before the storm.) And currently, it’s really a series of mini storms going on before the BIG storm, also known as when the third child arrives in full force.
Full disclaimer: I’m in a “place” right now. I have hit the imaginary brick wall. I am writing this in a moment of rage to keep it as raw and real as possible. This, my friends, is what 37.5 weeks pregnant looks like on me. Here are my currents storms:
Deprived third child storm –
I haven’t bought a thing for this new baby (sorry dude/dudette). If this poor thing is a girl, she’s going to be sporting a lot of blue and red athletic gear hand me downs from her big brothers.
Filthy House Storm –
I need to get my carpets cleaned, wipe down the walls, Lysol all the handles and light switches, vacuum under all the places I ignore 90% of the time, and get every bathroom spotless. I become a bit of a clean freak before a new one comes to the house. If nothing else, after this baby comes home with us, I want to be exhausted in a shiny home, at least for a few days.
Documentation Storm –
Paperwork that needs turned in to HR at my work, paperwork that needs to be received by Jimmer’s preschool that he starts all of a week after this baby comes, and hospital paperwork I still need to wrap up.
Needy/Crazy Baby Storm –
We’re down to just a few days to figure out a way to get Jordy not to hold onto my leg no matter which room I’m in and to stop slapping people. I fear he’s going to rip out this new one’s eyeballs! Our poor dog Yogi is getting his doggie rear-end handed to him these days, compliments of his one-year-old roomie.
Swollen Storm –
You could pop me with a pin. I know there were bones in my feet before. I know I had ankles somewhere in there. And why does it look like my nose was reconstructed to cover another inch of my face? A few other descriptive words? Sausage toes, brat fingers, jello booty, bobble head.
Work Anxiety Storm –
Please Lord, don’t have me go early enough that I leave my coworkers with my “junk”. I’m currently putting together a “worst case scenario” document so that if someone gets stuck with it, they can easily tend to it. Nothing like being THAT coworker.
Make Space Storm –
One word… GOODWILL! Get it out! Make room! Is it a want or a need? Man, do we humans live with a lot of unnecessary stuff?! Making room for baby means STUFF GOTTA GO!
There’s no calm. There’s no “Let’s enjoy these last few days of quiet.” WHAT ON GOD’S GREEN EARTH IS QUIET? This is the pre-storm before the bigger storm. Thunder, lightning, throw some hail in there, and that’s pretty much happening at all times around me.
This is somewhat of a Negative Nancy post from someone who is 99% of the time a glass-more-than-half-full type of gal. But Mama’s gotta vent. I’m swollen, I’m tired, I’m terrified. But with the risk of sounding like a total CHEESER, I’m also at all times surrounded by a continuous LOVE STORM. My four-year-old blows me a kiss out of his daycare window every day. My baby/soon-to-be middle lays his head on my lap the second I walk through the door. My better half continuously reminds me how crazy fun this is all going to be, even if we don’t know it yet. Just being around all of them day in and day out makes all of those other silly storms seem irrelevant.
Right now in this moment? The Olympic Storm. We are hiding our proud and joyful laughter from our oldest who is currently competing in his own Olympics. He tells us what to say, how to start him off, gives us a water bottle to interview him with after he wins, and even has a medal he received from a kids’ race to award him with after he wins yet another gold. (One time he said he only got silver.) He has turned part of our vacuum cleaner into a hurdle, he stretches out pre-race, and even does some “air swimming”. It might be loud and “stormy”…but it doesn’t get much better than that.
