I don’t know why I have a headache, but I do. I woke up with it and it’s just sort of continued to set in and be a bother. It’s one of those foggy, I feel weird, I may be getting sick sort of headaches. Oh my GOD, I can’t handle being sick again. I am still getting over being sick from 3 weeks ago when Andrew brought the plague home. I’m too pregnant for this. Don’t the germs recognize this?! Psh, it’s really quite inconsiderate. I’m bringing a whole new person into this world for germs to crawl all over.

Dear Germs,

Give me a break while I gestate your new playground, will you?

XO, Jennie

Maybe I shouldn’t have started scouring the whole house yesterday. I went to Target, bought a bunch of cleaning supplies and a shiny new bucket, and went to work cleaning the baseboards, the doors, the stair railings, the blinds, the windows… I need the house to be dirt free for the new baby. Apparently, I have lost my damn mind. I mean, having the house super-fantastically clean will be nice, but the fact that I have to do it all might end up hurting more than it’s worth. If I get sick right now, I have nothing and no one to blame except my cleaning panic, and maybe Shannon. I saw her for five whole minutes the other day, and she was getting sick. That would be just my luck. Gah.

For now, I’m going to go upstairs, put Alaina down for her nap, then take a shower and hope that burns off some of the yuck that I’m feeling right now. Then my sister and I are going to lunch, and maybe she’ll hang around and make Valentines with Alaina and I. Yesterday I thought I would clean the whole house AND make Valentines with a toddler and glitter glue, because why? Because I am apparently super Jennie these days. Hahaha, aren’t I funny? Now all I REALLY want to do is sleep.


As my due date draws closer and closer, I get more and more determined to clean everything we have ever owned, organize it, and then sit down and bemoan the fact that I had to DO something, my GAWD. I am pregnant and should be laying down with a layer cake right now. Today I decided I should get out all the Big Stuff and make it shiny and clean. BIG MISTAKE. Not only do I have a newfound loathing for my husband, but I also had to vanquish an unusually large, unusually hardy spider that had taken up residence in the baby swing. I tried spraying it with bathroom cleaner, because I know I would die if I was in a pool of bleach and other various stinky chemicals. It curled up and felt sorry for itself for a minute, then marched out of the cleanser puddle as if nothing had happened. So I plucked up some courage and let Mr. Spider meet the underside of Mr. Shoe. Then threw the shoe onto the back porch for good measure. Can you tell I have a slight spider phobia?

I collected the baby gear from the garage and dragged it into the house, toddler in tow. Curious about everything, and she probably didn’t understand why I kept telling her NOT TO TOUCH ANYTHING, ew DIRTY. The only thing I couldn’t find was the infant car seat. Which? GREAT. I sort of (really) need that. I found it mocking me from the recesses of the over-stuffed under-the-stairs closet. Superb.

I also decided that I needed my maternity clothes out of the under-the-stairs closet, because dammit, I am 32 weeks pregnant and have been surviving with a remarkably small wardrobe thus far due to lack of husbandly willingness to unearth my maternity clothes. So I dug everything out of that closet, my maternity clothes are now in the washer, and the infant seat is ready for scouring. My dining room is also a horrible, terrible mess now, and my back hurts like a mother. Oh, the joys of pregnancy.

Alaina and I got up bright and early this morning and headed to my OB/GYN’s. I was so glad to be out of there in a mere 45 minutes, as last time I waited a grand total of two hours and my appointment was less than ten minutes long. Anyway, I’m measuring nicely, not gaining too much weight, blood pressure is good, and the baby’s heart rate is perfect. Healthy healthy healthy, thank goodness.

I’ve been getting Braxton Hicks contractions lately, which I found a little odd since I didn’t get them at all last time. Maybe that means I won’t have to be induced this time… but I somehow doubt that. I did realize that I mostly get BH contractions when my mother-in-law comes in to town. I really need to stop letting people stress me out so badly, my goodness.

So after my appointment, Alaina and I got lunch and then went shopping at Target. BIG mistake, as usual. I can never, ever get out of that place without spending $100+. I went in for diapers, and left with diapers, socks and shoes for Alaina, a complete home-from-the-hospital outfit for the baby (onesie, sleeper, mittens, hat, socks, blanket) and a few other odds and ends I needed. Target gets wayyyyy to much of our money. Oh Target, why are you so wonderful and evil at once?

I woke up hungry this morning, which I don’t usually do because I hate waking up hungry so I make sure to stuff my face before bed. I think my great aversion to waking up with a growling belly comes from two pregnancies where that is absolutely NOT allowed, unless I would like to try to hold my vomit in long enough for the pregnant morning pee (you know, the one where you have to pee SO BAD). Because throwing up into the bathtub while you sit on the toilet is probably the least most glamorous thing EVER, unless of course you are a rock star and can pull it off because, heh, you are a ROCK STAR, baby. That’s just how it’s done. Anyway, I’m completely off the subject here. I woke up hungry and still tired because I did end up getting that much-wanted nap yesterday, so when Andrew got up to leave for work, I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep for awhile. Though I was tired, I decided to do something completely uncharacteristic of me and actually cook something for breakfast. I made pancakes, smothered them in butter and syrup, and enjoyed them without thinking pancakes = widening ass. If you can’t do these things when you’re super pregnant, when can you? Never. So, I indulged. Alaina, on the other hand, had a chocolate chip pancake, which she declared to be both “nummy” and “gud”. Score. Since there is only the two of us and I had plenty of extra batter, I made a bunch of toddler-sized pancakes, put them in baggies two-by-two, and popped them in the fridge. Voila, snack or breakfast for the munchkin when I’m feeling more like my usual lazy pregnant self. Now I’m going to clean up my breakfast mess and start dinner, so there’s less work for me to do later when I’ll be more tired. I’m trying a new meatloaf recipe (with ground turkey instead of beef), and then I think I may make the Gooey Butter Cake that Linda suggested, because I just happen to have all the ingredients on-hand and it sounds too delicious to resist.

Who are you, you crazy cooking, cleaning woman? I think Andrew working late every day this week is having some sort of profound, bizarre effect on me.