The last truly solo Thursday and Friday

Yesterday morning, I woke up around 6:15. (Okay, that's a lie, I woke up at least twice to go to the bathroom, but that's status quo.) Your Dad's alarm was going off, and in typical form, he hit the snooze button three times before grunting at the clock and sliding out of bed. I dozed around for a while, then realized after he'd left for work that I wasn't just going to fall back to sleep on my own, so I read a few chapters of The Hobbit and passed out again until 10:00. Beautiful. I got up, made some breakfast (pancakes and bacon: oh yes), puttered around online, and realized all too soon that I needed to get myself motivated to leave the house for a baby shower at your Dad's school. After that (which was a little weird, but very sweet), we hit the grocery store, made some lasagna, watched some TV, and went to sleep.

Today hasn't been much more eventful, though I have been debatably more productive! I had leftover Indian food for breakfast, made some calls about getting new tires on my car, and have organized myself so that I can run out and do some necessary shopping this afternoon. Not the greatest excitement ever, but I feel more than okay about how I've spent my time. We did a little reorganizing in your room last night that I'm going to continue this afternoon, most notably making room for the craptons of extra linens that currently reside in a pile on your floor. My challenge now is getting everything set up in a way that is aesthetically appealing to your Dad and I (who are both fussy about such things) and using the small space we have effectively.

Yesterday and today have proved to me a standing theory that I've only kind of, sort of been able to quantify evidence of in the past. If I have no reason to be relaxing, I am a slug. Those sick days when I'm really not sick, just sick of going to work? I sit on my ass and aggressively do nothing I need to do, typically making a bigger mess of craft supplies or pile of dishes than I might even make normally. Show me a sick day or vacation day when I'm either legitimately sick or have a real reason to take it easy? Just try and stop me. Yesterday I had to force myself to not do anything (because everyone I know, their mothers, their cousins, their coworkers, and those ladies they know from church have all told me to relax while I still can), but today I'm getting shit DONE.

Here's hoping this is a trend. Everyone has been telling me (and this I do believe, unlike many other new parent warnings) that once you're here, I will have zero control over my time. Every minute will be allocated to whatever YOU determine it needs to be, and everything from eating to sleeping to pooping to bathing (mine and yours) will depend on your needs. This I know to be true. I'm also predicting, and this remains to be proven, that having the restrictions of your wants and needs will likely escalate my ability to be productive in and among high-maintenance moments. Kiddo just fell asleep solidly for the first time in nine(teen) hours? I have a scary suspicion that I won't pass out on the couch within arm's reach; I'll probably do something stupid like try to teach myself to cross-stitch, or make blue corn tortillas, or work on a quilt. This may turn into debilitating masochism, but we'll see.

Today, I actually went to thirteen (count them: THIRTEEN) different stores looking for a wooden back massager that your Dad can use while I'm in labor after his thumb joints start to give out. This has been a weirdly impossible thing to find - clearly - because apparently people only want to purchases massage accoutrements before the holidays are over. This is, I believe, utter bullcrap, but it did allow me to feel massively productive when I otherwise would have been sitting around doing nothing. Arguably, the latter is what I probably should be doing, but I could also make a compelling case for the fact that moving around a lot furthers our efforts to get you out without too much intervention being needed. Still, I also bought some crucial organizational stuff, not-so-exciting but very necessary breastfeeding supplies, and a second pair of pajama pants for me (since I don't expect to wear real person pants for a while after you come out). I know how to live it up, right?

Your Dad and I have been quietly enjoying our evenings, which I think is exactly what we should do. We're not frantically rushing out to do exciting things (because seriously, what the hell do we normally enjoy doing that we can't do quietly at home with little to no extra disposable income on hand?), and we're not treating this like some sort of "last hurrah" that needs to be celebrated. I'm even physically feeling good enough that we could go out and...hurrah...if we were so inclined, but why bother? We're perfectly happy eating homemade food, lounging around, watching whatever TV we feel like, talking a lot, and not worrying about going to sleep early. I may be in hyper-productive mode during the days, but even that is really just a few hours of activity in a given day. This weekend, I think I have something like a cumulative six hours of any kind of activity planned (including hanging around the house with friends and probably some cleaning and organizing), then Monday - gasp! - I'm getting new tires put on the car, but that's pretty much all I'm committing to. I'm sure I'll find some ways to fill that time, but I'm okay playing things by ear. Who knows, Batman, maybe we can buck the system and you'll show up before I have to start teaching myself new hobbies!