Just Some Instagrams as of Late

We've been playing the waiting game the past few weeks, which consists of lots of daily household chores just-in-case, long trips to the park for Max, an addiction to plastic dinosaurs, lots of father-son wrestling matches, good meals, retail therapy, a whole lot of sitting and laying down for me, and other funny things. Also, I watched Titanic for the first time since junior high (possibly high school?). That's noteworthy, right? Right.

Anyway, Andrew's estimated arrival for Henry was September 18th and mine was September 21st. We were (obviously) both wrong, which goes to show that babies do whatever they want to do and, even when their only sibling came a whoppin' three weeks early, they may want to stay in as long as possible. I'm not going to lie, I was on pins and needles the days leading up to Week 37 and I thought I had died when I passed the day Max was born, but I'm pretty content now. Plus, since Henry is schooling us in stubbornness, I now have the knowledge that stretch marks stretch in every way, your belly can, in fact, get much bigger than it has ever gotten before, and it is possible to have a baby butt (visibly) sticking out of the left side of your stomach as two little heels (visibly) stick out of the right side of your stomach. Also, when you've had a baby nearly a month early, it's pretty common to feel weeks overdue even though you're having your baby six days early no matter what. And, I'll be honest, since I hope to be pregnant again one day, those are pretty good things to know now instead of later.

P.S. Somehow my mother and mother-in-law have both somehow evaded my phone camera even though they've both been here a lot the past two weeks (meaning someone is here every day!).

P.P.S. I am on the search for the perfect black boots. Just FYI.

P.P.P.S. FOUR days.

Steak and Shake

I grew up on Steak and Shake- not as crazily as I did on Chick-fil-A, but enough that I can remember whining multiple times when my dad said that, for dinner during a road trip or a too-busy-to-cook night, we were headed to the nearest Steak and Shake. Now that we live near one, we eat here once a month or so and Andrew is in love... as is Max, but these days he is mostly concerned with dinosaurs, so hamburgers don't carry as much excitement for him as making "Little Foot" jump from one cup to the other. And honestly? I don't think I'd have it any other way.

Thirty Eight Weeks!

When Andrew came home today, I pulled myself out of bed and we took some quick belly shots in front of the woods behind our apartment (cause heaven forbid I walk into the woods right now- I'd probably trip on the first stick I came across with a quarter inch diameter and sprain my ankle in the process). I'll show those cute shots in a minute, but this, my friends, is what thirty-eight weeks pregnant really looks like:

Glamorous, no? I swelled up like a balloon last week (no way will anyone be seeing a straight on photo of my face for a while!) and, before I deleted a whole bunch of other full body pictures taken from the side, you could see where the swelling in my legs started, stopped, and started up again. Pregnancy is awesome and it is also no joke. No wonder I have a hard time standing now-a-days and can only wear these beat up flip flops! My body is crazy right now, but I'm weirdly happy about it because I've reached the point where I have to wake Andrew up in the middle of the night for my bathroom breaks because I can't pull myself out of bed without him. I think that's as equal as pregnancy can get for any heterosexual couple, so I'll take what I can get. Did I mention that, once or twice a day, I get crazy mad at my husband and tell him he's not allowed to look at me because he gets to have a baby without being pregnant? All is fair in love and war, which I am currently calling late pregnancy.

And now! Onto the cute pictures!

Henry is scheduled to arrive on October 4th, which is eight days from today. We go in super, super early in the morning and he'll be born several hours before lunch. I am so excited! Annnnd I'm nesting like crazy, even though I'm supposed to be down most of the time (and I am! I really am!). I vacuum every day, am ridiculously crazy about spraying air freshener (seriously, it's embarrassing), have over-cleaned all of our baby gear, and have even started creating loads of laundry just so I have something to fold. Did I mention I have also crocheted two blankets in one week? I am a crazy pregnant lady, but whatev. I'll be crazy for a few more days if it means snuggling a little bundle of brand new baby love is just around the corner.

Still Pregnant. NBD.

The last few days have been full of crocheting, Netflix, straightening my hair, reading books I've read fifteen times before, keeping up with my 365 Project and hanging out with my family (visiting- and awesome- mother-in-law included). It's been nice and I have thought of 3,000 tangents I could write blog posts on, but instead I think I'll pull out my yarn and start watching that fairy tale show on Netflix that I'm becoming obsessed with.

PS. I hate this new blogger layout.

On Not Being Patient.

I am not the most patient person.

I mean, I wish I was. I wish I were someone who always drank in the moment. More specifically, I wish I had the capability of telling my mind to shut up on command, but I'm actually quite the reverse. If I tell my mind "shut up!", my mind goes crazy. There is always something to think about and, right now, all I think about is pregnancy (also what I will wear after pregnancy). Yesterday I became the most pregnant I have ever been. I delivered Max when I was thirty-seven weeks pregnant. I am now thirty-seven weeks and two days pregnant. I have gained forty-three pounds. I'm on bed rest. I'm tired and I'm grumpy and, when I wake up in the morning, I cry for ten minutes, sulk for an hour or so, and then put on my big girl pants (err... elastic waist, oversized gym shorts?) and move to the couch, regardless of whether or not I've combed my hair that morning.

Frankly, I'm a little surprised I'm still pregnant. I had an ultrasound a little less than two weeks ago because I was measuring quite a bit ahead and, when Henry was measured, several of his body parts (thighs included) were measuring at forty-one weeks. Overall, he was measuring two days shy of thirty-nine weeks and his estimated weight was slightly higher than the average weight of most newborns. I know this doesn't mean much and that ultrasounds are often incorrect, but this whole pregnancy I had a gut feeling that I would deliver early and my ultrasound last week validated my feelings. I woke up with an extremely swollen body earlier this week and, because of my complications with Max, have spent three out of the past six days in the doctor's office and the hospital. Everything turned out to be alright, which I'm happy about, but now whenever my phone rings, I feel like saying "I don't want to talk about it!" to whoever is on the other line.

Because who knows? My body feels like it will give out at any minute, but I think I just assumed too much- that I would always have early babies because my first baby was early- and those assumptions now have me biting my nails. I'm ready for this phase of my life to be over. I'm ready to have a new baby and I'm ready to get back to being an active mom instead of one who sits around all day and I'm really done being a mom who sits around all day and bursts into quick, intense crying jags at random times because I hurt and I'm exhausted.

And I know this post sounds pretty whiney, but I really am just happy that I'm pregnant. I say "thank you" a thousand times a day for the opportunity we have to bring another baby into our family and, truthfully, I want him to stay on the inside as long as he needs to. I want him to be healthy and I want him to come out when he's ready. I want what's best for him and what's best for our family. I am just so excited and anxious with excitement that I can barely stand this part! I am not patient and, as much as I remind myself to slow down and enjoy this while I can- maybe I will never be pregnant again and maybe Henry will be an extremely difficult baby and, my soul, can't I enjoy having Max to myself a little longer?!- I just keep doing an inward dance of anticipation waiting for my newest little man to come into my life.

I am so, so ready. And if he doesn't come in the next thirteen days?
Well, I guess I'll just be even more ready when he does come.

Punished.

[These pictures are from the library this morning and have nothing to do with this post.]

A few minutes ago, while I was falling asleep over one of my favorite dinners (made by my mom, of course), Max started pulling wild child antics and kept climbing on the table. Every time, Andrew pulled him down and told him "No, Sir!" and every time, Max would squeal and grin. He ended up in the corner but the corner didn't work, so a few minutes later he ended up in a chair in the middle of the living room. Andrew stood behind him, trying to enforce that sitting in the middle of the room on a chair with no toys was a punishment rather than a celebration. My mom and I sat watching, trying not to laugh, and finally my mom said this:

"Andrew, I don't think he knows that he's being punished."

I started laughing as soon as she said this. She started laughing as soon as she said this. Andrew choked on a chuckled and Max looked around, threw back his head, and belly laughed for a whoppin' thirty seconds. And now? He's running around pretending to be a dinosaur. But! He's on the floor, not on the table, so I'm calling that a Win-Win.

Just Some Instagrams As of Late

Some of my favorite things lately: Walking into our bedroom and finding Max zonked out with his daddy. No Bake Cookies with my mom and my crazy son. Thinking my belly isn't too bad when I see it in the morning and then dying over how big my child must be as soon as I get dressed. Finishing blankets and starting new ones. Watching Max dance from the living room to the kitchen, even though he'd been at the doctor's an hour before. Proofreading my husband's papers and being the first to know that what he wrote was awesome. Going to bookstores and only buying picture books. Playing Rock Band with my brothers. Listening to Max as he sings "Happy! Happy! I'm so happy!" and thinking "Me, too, Little Man.".

Hope everyone had a happy weekend!