1. Holy crap, I'm pregnant.
I seem to have this revelation at least once a day. I'm going to have a baby in 12 weeks. After four years of desperately trying followed by two years of resignation, it happened. We bought a dog, sold every baby thing we owned, moved into a smaller house, and were content with our little family. Aside from the morning sickness from February to May, I was too busy with THE WIZ and INTO THE WOODS to remember I was even growing another human inside me. But now, with summer off and nothing constructive to occupy my mind (see number 2 below), I barely know what to do with myself besides stare at my expanding stomach and wonder how my thighs got pregnant, too.
2. Holy crap, I quit the best job EVER.
Last year, I took a job as a Library Media Specialist at a brand new elementary school. I'm not sure how I tricked those people into giving me that job, but it really was a dream. Awesome people, amazing kids, and books. Books, talking about books, buying books, suggesting books. I got paid for this. I resigned. In my cushy, comfortable life, it was the hardest decision I've ever made. Not to mention that we're losing half of our income. I wonder if they make vegan SPAM?
3. Holy crap, Mr. B has been practicing ONE Rachmaninoff song since June 1st.
There were a few weeks in there where he was practicing the Legally Blonde score to fill in for a pianist who was going to be out of town. For a while I thought the baby was going to be born singing, "OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS!" Now she's going to be born with the personality of a brooding Russian and gargantuan hands.
4. Holy crap, we're turning our garage in a bedroom.
We did look around at houses, but nothing really caught our eye. Plus, the thought of moving made me want to punch myself. I never really wanted to be one of those people with a driveway that led into the house, but such is life. I'd rather increase the square footage of our house than pay almost the same amount of money for an egress window in the basement bedroom only for Little B to refuse to sleep down there. Plus,
5. Holy crap, we have no baby stuff.
(See number 1 above.) I sold/donated all our stuff two years ago when we moved in our little house. The only thing I kept was what Little B wore home from the hospital. Now lucky for me, my mother is addicted to shopping for baby clothes and my sweet, adorable niece will be exactly one year older than our little peanut, so Aunt Amelia and Uncle Kenny have hooked us up. The problem remains that the stuff we need is big and expensive (see number 2 above). And although I'm not against gently used items, I don't want the death trap your grandchildren sleep in when they come to your house to visit or the car seat that was "good enough for your kid," who is now 19 years old.
This list could go on forever, but I have to stop for now. I have my glucola test this afternoon at 4pm and have to sketch out my food consumption for today so I can still abide by the rules I have to follow prior to the blood test while decreasing the odds that I will not physically harm an innocent bystander because I will not have eaten since 1pm.