Our working household

I’m sitting here at 6:30 on a Monday night and barely awake. I felt the same way during my lunch hour. I could easily curl up {sort of} and close my eyes. Probably not opening them for hours. Instead, I pushed through the haze and went back to work, yawning my way through the afternoon.

Now, I listen as Bryan and Maximus work downstairs. In Bryan’s nesting efforts, he decided to tackle the mess of junk that was our basement. He took many loads to the dump and Goodwill, clearing our basement of a futon, recliner, ping pong table, Christmas tree, computer desks, and countless pieces of electronic equipment. After that was done, he started going through things. Box after box, he got rid of junk. Then he started organizing and putting things in totes with labels. It’s basically every nesting, 9-month pregnant woman’s dreams. Granted, it’s completely in his control and we may not organize things the same way. BUT! He’s tackling a much needed task.

It wasn’t on my list of things to get done before the baby, but it needs to be done. His motivation and mine are vastly different. While I want to “finally” decorate the house, he wants to get the basement organized so he can start finishing it. I watched the weeks slowly tick by and thought about the furniture that needed to be ordered and walls painted. He looked at the time passing and saw a missed opportunity. A time where he should have been spending countless hours putting up walls. We may not be entirely aligned on the to-do list, but at least we’re getting things crossed off the list.

And, I can’t express how grateful I am for some time to sit on the couch and try to be comfortable. As my pregnancy comes to an end, my body is showing its wear. There’s less I can do, either because I’m having a lot of back pain or because I can’t breathe when I bend over. While I really do love being pregnant, there’s only so much a body can take. And mine is nearing the end. We’re running out of room, little brother and I. We’re fighting over who gets the stomach space and who’s going to sleep. I’m not wishing away my days, but I’m also not rallying for more time. In 16 short days, we’ll hold our littlest boy and show him this great big world that Maximus is making his own.

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