I luh-uh-uh-uh-uhv you. 8 days. I have 8 days of work left and then begins my 12 week vacation.
You know where I sleep in, and clean, and relax, and eat bon bons like all stay at home moms.
8 days before I am at home and sleeping in 45 minute intervals while our house goes down the crapper (good-bye nesting), and I make my “goal” to shower and brush my teeth once a day, and to not smell like breast milk.
So I won’t lie that I see that date on the calendar and think… wow. I will be able to breathe come Monday, March 11 when G goes to school and I go get felt up for my last scheduled appointment. Yah, I only have 2 of those left. And then the rest of the week as I sit around and wait on Baby to arrive.
But I know it won’t happen like that. I am kind of hoping that I will have time to put together that he IS arriving… like soon. Like, I should probably figure out what would happen if I went into labor in the middle of the night and who would stay with G? I mean, probably, right? It’s time for that?
I should maybe find that newborn headrest for the car seat (no clue where that is.) I should probably stop wearing the clothes I’ve put into my hospital bag. I think that defeats the purpose of the hospital bag. I should maybe put my make up in a bag? Or something?
And what do you do if your water breaks at home or the office? Who cleans that up? Plaguing. My. Mind. Kind of. To be honest, I have like zero ability to understand that this is REALLY HAPPENING.
Did anyone else feel this with #2? I bought some wipes the other day. And I’ve put in a little organizer in our room. G and I went and picked out a new lovie for baby Meyer as a present from Griffin. Um, now what?