Today feels kind of lame. Rocco is napping and Kevin went out with Vincenzo for awhile, so I’m just laying around snacking on heartburn meds and pretending that I like having the TV on. I kind of have that going-back-to-work-after-a-break feel, even though I won’t be going anywhere tomorrow that I didn’t go today.
We’re about a month away from Baby and I think I’m feeling overwhelmed. I’m supposed to have that nesting instinct, but instead I’ve got more of a nagging instinct. I’d like my nest to be all fixed up but I don’t want to be the one fixing it. I want to be the one lying on the couch, cuddling with a child or two while Someone Else (and I’m not going to name names or anything) paints the French doors, scours the nursery, rearranges the pantry, prunes the roses in the garden, and rubs my feet.
Holy crap–I am not making this up—as I was writing this, look what just showed up outside my window:
Roses: pruned. Sweet.
Wait, little deer—where are you going? They’re leaving! Deer, come back! What about the nursery?! The pantry? My foot rub?
Lame. These feet ain’t gonna rub themselves, you know.