Nesting Syndrome

Apparently, the nesting has begun. Every time I look at a stack of papers or a couple of dishes in the sink or a few things that need to be taken out of the nursery and stored elsewhere, I get twitchy. My head starts to hurt from trying to think of a place to put things. My arms and legs start to itch for movement. So I get up to do something about the mess. (If you'd known me since childhood, and could see my house, you would laugh. I used to be an A-#1 SLOB! My house is not that bad right now.)

The problem is that when I start to do something, about five minutes into bending or lifting or whatever it is I try to do, I get a contraction and have to go and rest on my side to make it go away. I have accomplished almost nothing!

I spend the majority of my day staying off of my feet and trying to do little things from the couch, but then the little things have to be put somewhere and when I stand up, there goes another contraction. I feel entirely useless.

If I'm having a day when I feel alright, Michael and I venture out to the grocery store or some other shopping destination so I can get a little exercise. When we get home, I can't even lift a bag of bread without being yelled at for doing too much.

He keeps threatening to tie me to the couch so I can't do anything at all. As fun as that sounds for a short period, I would hate for him to tie me down in the morning and leave for work. We did order the couch Scotch-Guarded, but I don't think it's completely moisture-proof, and the way I've been peeing lately, it's probably not a great idea to stay on the couch ALL DAY.

Mike keeps telling me to let him know when there's something I want done that I shouldn't be doing myself. It makes me feel guilty though because he works all day and he shouldn't have to come home afterwards or spend his days off completing a "Honey-Do" list I have created. Just thinking of that term makes me one step closer to becoming the dreaded mini-van driving soccer mom I vowed never to become.

I want to be a cool mom. Mike gets to drive the boy around in his Mustang. I don't want to be stuck with a mini-van with sports stickers plastered all over the back of it! Please don't take any offense if you are one of those people. If it works for you and you are happy, fine. The thought just scares me a bit, OK?

Speaking of scary, it's Halloween today! Usually I'm totally into Halloween, costumes, trick-or-treaters, the whole works. This year...Not so much. I figure this is the last year when I won't be dragged around the neighborhood by a small child who doesn't care that Mommy is hot or cold or wet or dry (you never can tell in Texas.)

I can see it now:

Ethan is dressed in an over-priced and cheaply made costume I purchased only to shut him up because he's bugged me about it since the movie came out. He's also hyped up on sugar because his father, in all his brilliance, has fed him candy from the house before it's time to go trick-or-treating.

I'm sure my son is yelling or crying or both over some type of costume malfunction and he won't even leave the house until I, SUPERMOM, get it fixed just right. You know what, Daddy? Since I fixed the costume and YOU got him hyped up on sugar, YOU take him out trick-or-treating!

I'll stay home and eat all of the chocolate out of the candy bowl (you're not supposed to hand it out anyway, kids could be intolerant to lactose or allergic to nuts) and I won't let you two back in the house until there's plenty more chocolate from Ethan's bag of goodies and all of his sugar high has worn off and you come up to the door with him sleeping on your shoulder!

I'm glad you agree, Honey. Have fun! I love you boys! BUH-BYE!