There's a nice nurse lady at our insurance company that calls every 4-6 weeks to see how I'm doing with my pregnancy. She has sent me a free DVD The Happiest Baby On The Block which is totally awesome, and also a free home treatment book o' boo boos.
Basically it's a condensed version of a newborn to adolescence "is a doctor/ER visit really necessary for this?" flow chart type book. Which is great for me, because if you know my husband, you know that because of Splenda's medical history he is on the hypochondriac end of the spectrum when it comes to his kids.
On the other hand, I refuse to go to the doctor if I don't have a fever and have my lung in hand for the doctor to reinstall.
This book brings a good balance because you just can't argue with a flow chart.
Anyways.
The nice nurse lady called today to ask me about my birth plan.
"Well, ma'am, my plan is this," was my quote from my very favorite Louisa May Alcott book EVAH ... "I plan to give birth. With lots of drugs. Whenever the baby is ready."
I think she expected to hear specifics like soothing music, and room temperature being exactly 70 degrees Farenheit, and a bath birth with lavendar scented soaps.
No thank you. My idea of an ideal birth is to keep high and lofty expectations way out of the way and just get it done.
She also asked me what I was doing to stay comfortable in these last 8 weeks.
I almost laughed right out loud, but thought that might be rude since she's just reading a script, forgoodnesssake. I told her I'm trying to take time each day to get off my feet or take a nap, but you know good and well that is not happening very regularly. Not with an almost 18 month old running on as few naps as possible.
It's been entirely too long since he took two naps a day. Today I put him down at 12:30 and determined I was not getting him out of his crib before 3pm. Momma needed a break. He let out a little cry around 2:20, and I went up there. He had been asleep, but needed covered up again. I covered him, and he slept until close to 4:00. ThankyoupreciousJesus.
And to complete your random blog reading experience today, I will tell the whole wide interweb that Zesty dug a bag of stale Cheetos out of the trash and is happily eating them.
Even though I provided a nutritious meal of cheeseburgers, tater tots, and a pickle as a vegetable just minutes ago.
3 comments:
lol - I'm glad that I'm not the only incredibly health conscious mother out there who includes pickles as a vegetable :) And our husbands obviously not only share the same name, but also the extreme opposite view as us on doctor's visits. My poor husband would spend a LOT of time in emerg with ~T~ if I would let him ... thank goodness he hasn't been home for most of ~T's~ more "exciting" incidences ... I don't know if he would have survived it!! :)
At least you haven't lost your sense of humor in all this. A lung re-install is one thing, a humor re-install is a much more serious matter.
The nice thing about kids is most times they don't care if the snack is stale. A snack is a snack. You were about 10 before you said anything about it.
I had this for my last pregnancy too. My favorite question was something like "have you felt peaceful and relaxed latley?" I had a 3 and almost 2 year old and pregnant is she kidding? What is peaceful and relaxed?
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