Contractions, and not the grammatical kind

Unless you count a combination of a cuss word and another word. Because I sure do.

I now (in theory) have less than 3 weeks and the Braxton-Hicks have come to visit.  Tiny Beast is still head down, and we have another appointment in less than a week, and the following, until she gets here.

Oh, contractions. I appreciate that you are practice for the real thing. It’s like a light warm up before the race. Of course I totally forgot that, and started holding my breath and making faces like something smelly had just sat next to me on the couch. Which, by the way, is not a recommended look while at Babies R Us. Nick reminded me that this is a good time to start practicing my breathing, so that when the real stuff comes down, It’ll be second nature.

I started to make squidgy face at him, before I realized he was right (yet again).

So, the past few days have been spent practicing breathing.


Not like normal breathing. I am pretty set on my skills doing that. I’m practicing that special, not quite hyperventilating, pregnant lady breathing that you learn in a class. Also, not to be done at Babies R Us. People tend to worry and think you’re going to drop a kid right there in the bedding aisle.

Aside from practicing my mad breathing skills, I have also apparently been nesting. Now, this isn’t the earlier cleaning and gutting of my house that was more Rambo-style. Oh no…this is ‘everything must be in its’ proper spot, or I will freak out, and you’ll have to do it all over again, if you’re the one screwed enough to get stuck helping me do stuff’ type cleaning.

For example: I made a quilt holder out of willow reeds, and placed tiny stuffed animals on it, so it looks like a happy little forest wonderland on the wall. From this hangs a banner I made from paper, fabric, letters and dried flowers. It’s really a pretty wall, but clearly overly thought out.

When it came time to put the quilt up (a beautiful antique, hand embroidered alphabet quilt), Nick had to do the honors, since I couldn’t get behind the crib or close enough to the wall without smooshing my ever-growing belly. Within seconds I realized that the quilt looked horrible, and had him take it down. Along with it, came the tiny forest creatures. Nick put them back up and started to hand me the quilt, only to see the look of “WTF” on my face. He spent the next few minutes trying to rearrange the critters to the exact specifications that I was trying to convey through what can be best described as vague and including interpretive dance.

Sigh. Again, I have an incredibly patient man. I may have also lost my mind.

Along with nesting comes cleaning. Yep. I have Charlies Soap for the diapers, Dreft for the clothes,  organic hippy cleaners for everything that the baby could touch. Clearly companies that make cleaners market to the pregnant freaks…and it works. So here’s how I envision me in the nesting phase:

Thank you Hyperbole and a Half for a meme that sums up everything that makes late-stage pregnancy crazy.

Thankfully, the nesting comes in waves, so I can still manage to be a normal human being most of the time. Meh. Less than 3 weeks, and I can transition into a new phase of sleep-deprived craziness. At least I’ll have company with Nick not sleeping either.

Here’s to cleaning all the things (in reasonable moderation)!

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