Is It Over Yet?

No, no it isn't over. I still have 5 more weeks until baby boy # 2 makes his grand entrance. 5 weeks!! And that is assuming he is punctual, which his big brother was not. I'm not so sure that I am going to make it that long. I am already feeling fed up, which didn't happen until week 39 last time (which was still 2 weeks before big boy arrived). I can't sleep because it is 130 degrees even with the a/c on, I can't eat because nothing sounds good, I can't drink beer because charming husband is convinced that even though every ultrasound I have had, and trust me I’ve had a lot, has shown that baby is 100% completely healthy, 1 beer or glass of wine is going to change that. It's 130 degrees outside, I'm stressed, I'm tired, I'm losing weight because I'm not getting enough calories. I need a beer damnit!!

We decided this weekend was the right time to get the baby room set up, as well as the other bedrooms in our house. Charming Husband recruited a few buddies to help him switch our room with big boy’s (see previous post for why he was doing that), and all 3 bedrooms got painted (by him of course, I'm not allowed to paint because I am pregnant. Best. Excuse. Ever). Anyway, after all of the rooms were painted, Charming Husband decided he hated all of the colors. Baby's room is too dark, big boy's room is too pink (it's brown, but whatever), and our room is too bright of a blue. He of course was with me at Lowe's when said colors were picked out, and he agreed to them... and even paid for them. Again, whatever. If he wants to buy more paint and paint 3 bedrooms AGAIN then he is more than welcome. I somehow don't see THAT happening any time soon. After all of the rooms were painted and the other 2 rooms were back in working order, we decided it was time to put the crib together. And by we I mean Charming Husband. I was content to sit on my ass and watch the Simpson's movie that I was coerced into going to get, but noooo, we needed to get everything done first. That was a big mistake. All that did was alert us to the fact that we need a new crib. There are parts missing, and it seems essential to me that we have these parts, and even the pieces to which we have all the parts seem to not be fitting together properly. Not to mention the fact that since this will be the 5th baby to sleep in this crib (it is a hand-me-down. I don't have 3 other kids that I haven't told anyone about) it is in pretty scary shape. The paint is chipped, pieces of the wood are broken off, and where we were missing bolts Charming Husband screwed pieces together which made the wood crack. All-in-all I think we need a new crib, of course, seeing as how I'm not getting paid for any of my maternity leave I don't really see a new crib in my future. The stress of that situation, and the ensuing husband-stress that followed, I think I am entitled to 1 beer. But no. General Charming Husband won't let me near one. Damn worried-about-or-son's-well-being husband. Why can't he just not give a shit like most husbands? I guess it could be worse :)

Due to this last weekend, I am hereby making this announcement: Should you be one of the people coming to visit me and my ever-expanding family at the hospital, admission will not be granted unless you pay me the toll of one (1) Blue Moon or Sunshine Wheat beer per person in your party. Unless of course you've decided to buy me a new crib, in which case I will give you one (1) of the beers that somebody else brings me. Cheers!