So this week has been a flurry of activity in our house. We've been trying to get everything cute and looking just right in preparation for my baby shower this weekend...at our house. Bob had a honey-do list damn near a mile long. I've stressed us both out to the max. Nesting blows sometimes.
So Wednesday night, after an already super long day at work, I decided to tackle assembling our brand spankin' new pack n play... alone. I assumed I could handle it. I could not. It took me 1.5 episodes of DVR'd Ellen to put the damn thing together. Bob got home around 11pm, surveyed my work, and declared that surely it wasn't THAT difficult. Yep. That made me feel lots better.
Once upstairs, Bob started asking questions about how I wanted Baby's curtains hung in his room (which was to be Bob's Thursday project). Aaaaand I lost my shit. I told him I'd just do it myself and he could just go to bed. I went into our bedroom to fold laundry, he came in and told me to breathe, and I lost it. I cried for approximately 30 minutes, hyperventilated a smidge, and then started all over again when I realized he was smirking at the scene in front of him.... ME. Sweet Jesus. He didn't say it out loud, but I KNOW he was thinking, "Where in the hell is the calm, sensible, even-keeled woman I married?" Well, buddy, you knocked her up and now she's a bundle of hormones and tears.
So by Thursday, all was well again. I had another doctors appointment, and Baby G is measuring and sounding just like a galloping horse. I'm now at 31 weeks and so ready for March 20 its not even funny!
