Crazy, eh? I have an induction date set for this Friday and am hoping against hope that this baby comes before then. I’m planning on completely wimping out if it’s an induced labor. I hate wimping out.
I did more not-exactly-nesting this weekend by buying nightstands for the master bedroom, as well as ordering blinds for it and picking out lighting for the living room and hallway. It’s a good thing this baby is coming soon because I don’t think I can afford to be pregnant another week! So the house might be a disaster, but at least it will have good ambience.
In the meantime, I’m thinking of trying a traditional method of getting labor going that the Plains Indians used to practice. I just need someone to tie me to a rock in an open field and stage a mock "attack," with tribesmen pulling up their horses only at the very last minute.
Yup. That should do it.
Anyone who scrapbooks knows there’s a certain amount of stress that comes with scrapbooking. The problem is that one day after a holiday is over, you are now behind on scrapbooking. My friends gave me the greatest gift for Guglielmo by throwing a scrapbooking party for me in which they each made a page or two and all I have to do is stick pictures on them. I felt like a thief walking away from the shower with their hard work…but a shameless thief!
Here are a few pictures of the details and the pages.
Aren’t they good?! And now I must be off…I have a baby shower to scrapbook. 😉
The rough night with the kids that I wrote about last post was made possible because my husband was at hot yoga. Last night he was home and, as he doesn’t have the same screaming callouses that I have that make an hour of screaming bearable, he decided to do things His Way.
His Way included spending an hour going into the room each time Rocco stood at the door yelling for him, tucking him back into bed, moving him into the nursery, moving him back into his bedroom, moving Vincenzo to the nursery, moving him back, bringing cups of water to their room and books and cars and toys and miniature ponies as requested.
It was hard to silently observe from my place on the couch, especially during the times when Vincenzo would say, “But Mom doesn’t allow us to have that in bed…” and Kevin would answer, “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” If I were an ounce more passive aggressive, I would have put an episode of Super Nanny on TV and gotten out a piece of poster board.
So last night we decided to just make a clean break from room-sharing and move Rocco back into the nursery until The Gugs needs it. I am both so ready to have this baby and so not.