all i'm saying is, the dining room better be finished by august

For eight years, I've written hundreds of posts on this blog about absolutely nothing.  I thought maybe I'd finally run out of ways to make my mundane life seems humorous and worth writing and reading about, and that it might be time to hanging up the proverbial blogging hat.

And then things got interesting around here and I finally have some material again.

We are in the midst of another home renovation, this time the dining room.  The progress is, not fast.  Matt and I are one week away from our fifth wedding anniversary, and if we don't make it, it will be because of this dining room.

We have four baby chicks arriving on March 26th.

And oh yeah, I'm having a baby.

Oh baby Darling is set to arrive on or about August 17th.  I know you're not supposed to share your birthday wishes, but when I blew out my 30th birthday candles on August 18th, I wished this would be the year, and now I'm due the day before I turn 31.

So that's really been the main thing that been keeping me preoccupied and/or asleep for the last three months.  I'm easing back into this blogging thing, so instead of paragraphs and a narrative structure, let's go with bullet points:

- For the better part of December, and all of January, the smell, thought, or sight of most food made me nauseous.  I don't think I will ever eat the following foods again: chicken breast, fried onions, stir-fry, cranberry juice, and eggs.  Which is unfortunate because did you read that part above about how we are getting four new chickens?  The MVP of those weeks was toast with peanut butter and banana.  Sometimes it was the only thing I ate for days.  Since thinking about eating made me sick, I wouldn't eat, and then being hungry would make me feel sick.  Reading made me sick, showering made me sick, sewing made me sick, even driving sometimes made me sick and if a truck that smelled strongly of exhaust passed by me, FORGET IT.  There were lots of mornings that I got out of bed, showered, and got right back in bed thinking WHY WOULD ANYONE EVER WANT A SECOND CHILD?

I think that part is beyond me now because with the exception of the aforementioned list, here is my current motto about food: BRING IT ON. 

Also, it's hard to believe that I only felt crummy for maybe two months tops, because it felt like years.  Longest two months of my life.  To women who are sick for nine whole months, I don't know how you survive.

- I still take a nap almost every evening.  This is how my Fitbit looks.

- I went to the doctor last week and she asked if I had any questions.  I had two, but I only asked one (which was how dangerous is lunch meat REALLY?).  I don't want her to think I am vain so I skipped my second question, which was, "When does the pregnancy glow arrive?" because I have never looked worse in my entire life.  One day my hair is coarse and wiry, and the next it looks like I've doused it with olive oil.  My lips are dry and cracking no matter how much water I drink and Aquaphor I use.  And my skin.  Oh Lord, my skin.  My complexion would never have won any awards, but it's never been worse than it has recently.  Last weekend my three year old niece asked me why I have so many boo boos on my face.  I've heard girls steal your beauty and if that's the case, this baby is a girl and she's going to be Miss America, because I look like nine miles of bad road.

- Is there an old wives tale about which gender steals your brain?  Because mine has teamed up with my beauty and taken a hike.  The other day I went to the Dunkin' Donuts drive thru, ordered my food, got to the window, and when the man told me my total I realized I had nothing with me.  No purse.  No wallet.  No change in my pockets.  All I had was my good looks and as I've mentioned, THOSE AREN'T SO GOOD ANYMORE.  Other things I've forgotten to do: turn of the gas stove burner, turn off the space heater, pay my Macy's bill, take my insurance card with me when I left the pharmacy, and turn my car off before I walk away from it.  More than once.

- I've also been slacking on the household chores, and God bless Matt for not even saying anything when I went to put away laundry and realized he had been fresh out of clean undies for who knows how long, and he said, "It's no problem, I just turned my old pairs inside out and wore them again."  I wish I could say that's the first time in our married life that's happened, but it's not.  But at least this time I have an excuse.

- The other day I googled "how do you care for a newborn?" because it occurred to me that's something we are going to have to do in a few months. Does someone tell you how often to feed them? And bathe them? And change them? And what temperature should their bedroom be?  And how you're supposed to leave the house amidst the whole feeding/napping schedule? I got overwhelmed with the results and figure I'll just call my mom.

- Matt's been googling too, but his searches are far more scientific and not really about things I want to spend lots of time discussing.  Don't talk to me about a water birth.  I want to be on a bed pumped up with as many drugs as they'll give me.  Matt also asks me questions as if I am a baby expert.  I immediately google the question and then nonchalantly respond like OF COURSE I have the knowledge stored in my head of when babies can start eating applesauce, and why they can breathe in fluid right now, but once they're born, can't breathe underwater.

- So far I'm still wearing all my normal clothes, but I'll be honest, I wrestled myself into a pair of dress pants today and I didn't think the buttons were going to hang on until 4:00, but they soldiered on.  Matt said he hoped the hydraulic pressure didn't affect the shape of the baby's head.  THANKS FOR GIVING ME SOMETHING ELSE TO WORRY ABOUT MATT.

- In all honesty, we don't feel that worried or anxious about this whole thing.  Which is unusual because normally, if there's something to worry about, I'll worry.  And even if there's not something to worry about, I'll worry.  We're just happy.  I read the baby's little ears can start to hear this week.  I am glad that what he or she has probably heard so far has been a lot of laughter.  I hope it makes him or her funny, because I love funny people.  And they've also heard some bad singing (I swear I sound just like Carrie Underwood in my head).  I'll just have to make sure that from now on, I whisper when I nag about the speed of the dining room progress.