So everybody probably thought my next post would be something like this:
Labor! Motherfuckingcontractionsowowow! Going to hospital now. Where is bag? Shoes? Lip gloss? CrapcontractionrightNOW Jason will update ASAP but I'm guessing it will be a boy baby of some kind who will look something like this, only less orange.
Well, I thought maybe so too. But no. After hours of completely pointless, annoying and painful Braxton-Hicks contractions and another spurt of crazy nesting energy, I have determined that I am still most definitely not in labor.
However, I have gotten all of the following things done today:
1) Packed hospital bag for (hopefully) the last time. Contains paper for documenting all the hilarious curse words I invent during contractions and hopefully funny anecdotes about the L&D nurses, unless the L&D nurses are all, "Hey! You're that girl from The Washingtonian!" Which means I can't say anything mean about them, because I'm a chickenshit like that. Bag also contains the Bethiclaus blanket AND my new Lucky Labor Socks that Stinkerbell knitted and sent all the way from FRANCE, which WOW, how did women give birth before the Internet was around to send them pretty things?
Also realized that the elusive [something crucial] was my book of Su Do Ku puzzles.
2) Washed every last item of baby clothing and other fabric that may potentially come within five feet of my son's precious skin, except for the changing pad cover, which I have washed five times because Max keeps taking naps on it and frankly, I'm done caring about it.
3) Organized the kitchen.
Oh yes, the kitchen. That room which I no longer ever wish to speak of.
A lot of progress has been made since the last time I ranted about it:
Yes, that is Kraft Macaroni & Cheese simmering on the stove. Shut up.
We have cabinets! We have Silestone countertops! We have tile floors! We have a snazzy new over-the-range microwave with a fan and a surface light that makes me so happy I could weep!
We also have: Crumbling grout that needs to be redone, missing shelves on backorder, mutilated drywall, a cracked doorway threshold and a sink that won't drain properly. Oh, and everytime we run the garbage disposal it completely floods the cabinet underneath.
And one. More. Bloody. Missing. Cabinet. Because. God. Hates. Me.
Babalah: See? Am so not budging until you get that kitchen DONE and learn how to cook something besides Kraft Macaroni & Cheese.