Despite my 41 week & 1 day baby being totally content to chill AS LONG AS POSSIBLE, this weekend was officially the last one we’ll have as a family of 5.
And it was full of lots of stuff.
Like tumbling recital.
Sister straddle rolled her heart out across the high school stage, and she managed to remember to run back to the right spot when she finished her back bend. Once we got home, she was O.V.E.R. anything else that had to do with that costume. No more pictures, no more braided hair, full on meltdown to “let her body out” as she says when she can stand to wear clothes no longer. Whatever.
She got a small gift from my mom, and Hank kept asking where our present to her was after we got in the car. Pat told him we gifted her with the expense of this experience for the year, but all he heard was the word ‘expense.’ That turned into 20 questions about what kind of expensive gift we had waiting for her at the house.
He specifically said, “You better not have bought her a new riding toy! Those are not what you get for dancing!”
The sense of relief that spread over his face after we got home and he made a run-through of every part of the house and yard was priceless.
Then we moved on to a Saturday morning full of sleeping late, minor yard work, and plenty of naps.
I managed to catch up on my YouTube que and watch a movie, Pat did a little yard work, and we all avoided making dirty dishes because I’ve hit my absolute limit with having to think about feeding and cleaning up after all these folks that live in my house.
Sunday, I had a breakdown.
I can be pregnant no more.
We skipped church, I made breakfast, and let the kids eat in the living room. That rarely happens, so Hank kept asking me if I was sick. Bless him.
Sick of being pregnant.
I’m just at that point where labor anxiety/life is changing/peeing for the 5th time in an hour is enough to make me want to throat punch innocent bystanders.
Or at least get all you fools who haven’t read the list yet.
Time kind of slows to a crawl at this stage in any pregnancy. I know I’m not alone in feeling like this. So I just gave in for a sec.
I legit thought I was going to have the baby Friday night at the recital. All conditions were favorable, but the gaggle of idiots who took up the 2 rows ahead of us made me forget about my pain, so it went away.
Induction is scheduled for Tuesday, and this pressure I’ve put on myself and Porter was just too heavy to handle. So I had a good cry while Pat let the kids “water the flowers” for 2 hours. That’s code for fight over the water hose while he installed some lights in the chicken coop. Heaven forbid those 7 dinosaur birds have to sleep in total darkness.
I took a nap, got my crap together, and came down to a lunch I didn’t have to cook. Winning.
We ended it on a high note. A birthday party, the best weather EVER for this late in May, and supper on the patio. I also figured what could it hurt to mow an acre of grass. So there was that. It didn’t result in labor, obviously, but we aren’t going to get kicked out of the neighborhood now.
I spent a few extra minutes loving on this kid. He took advantage of the last bit of the brother shelf while I took advantage of his baby status that expires tomorrow.
All the feels. All of ’em.
Then I kissed his dirty face and made him pick up all the letter magnets he likes to slide across the kitchen floor. Forget stepping on blocks at our house, it’s those stupid magnets that plague our life.
I’m still holding out hope to go into labor on my own. I’ve got until 5 AM Tuesday morning. I can do it. Porter can do it. He can’t stay in forever.