Or, holy crap! In less than two weeks we're making the move to the farm and my due date was eight weeks yesterday!
I think every pregnant woman gets that sudden jolt at some point in their pregnancy where they realize 'ohmygodimgoingtohaveababyandihaveamillionthings to do..............' and I had mine yesterday. I was doing some light packing while Mr. Pretties (not so pretty today, kind of mad at him actually ;) ) was at work and thinking about how in two weeks we would be making the move. To a farm. To live out our dream. And then I was like 'What?! We're moving to a farm?! To live our our dreams?! When did this happen?? Where was I??' followed by the next series of revelations that A) My next midwife appt is going to be an at home appt on the 2nd of February and my house is going to pile a of boxes 'Hi There, thanks for driving all the way out here, please, pull up a box...' Nice. and B) Oldest Little Pretties 7th (!!!) birthday will be requiring a party mid February, when hopefully our house is no longer a box storage facility, which got me to C) My due date was eight weeks yesterday!!! Which will be down to six weeks by the move, and three weeks by the party!!! Then I had to hyperventilate into the nearest paper bag (fortunately I'm a crafter, I think I pack paper bags in every moving box because I continuously find packages of them around the house that I'm going to use for some craft or another).
Eight *gasp* More *Gasp* Weeks *Bigger Gasp*.
Clearly, this is not my first pregnancy, or delivery, why am I reacting like such a weiner head? I have no idea! Other than I think I've put so much focus on the moving aspect (and purchasing glass hardware for the kitchen cabinets, and stalking Pinterest for new ideas, and Etsy for buying heirloom seeds) that I was under the impression that while ofcourse we were having a baby, that was light years away. And by light years, I obviously mean eight weeks, which doesn't some so luminescent or annual... I have cribs to sort out, clothes to buy, all those little odds and ends to replace, supplies for our homebirth to pick up, major organization, mental prep, tiny clothes to wash, cloth diapers to buy, a pump to find, a place to purchase newborn caps, and Argh!!!
Beyond that freak out I've also started worrying that we'll finally get to the farm, the one that we've talked about moving to for the last few years, that I have monsterous plans for, and we'll fail. How you can fail at living on a rural property, I'm not too sure. But I think it involves having access to a fair amount of land which can be used for all these great things I've been planning (food gardens, chickens, bees, canning, homemaking, meat raising, homesteading, etc...) and becoming so overwhelmed by the potential that everything has and complete control we've been given that we do... nothing. Our property has no preplanned or preestablished vegetable patch, so we need to figure out where/how/when that happens, get our chickens set up in the barn, which requires critter proofing, clean up all the unkept parts of the property, clean up the 'Secret Garden' that I don't even want to think about right now because it has a scary amount of crap in it currently and where to put outdoor items like furniture, where in this vast yard we'll be spending the most time (I didn't realize how much I relied on a square backyard that was fenced in... take a way the square and the fence and apparently I'm lost). I addition to these semi-superficial concerns, the more immediate issues of finding someone who will deliver wood to the house for the woodstove, having the oil tanks filled, starting our hydro bill (and subsequently cancelling this one), renting the truck, registering the girls for school (and getting their vaccines up to date), and so on and so forth are creeping up This doesn't even touch on all the packing I still have to do. Or the trips to donate. Or the trips to the dump we have to. And with all of this to do, what do I want to do more than anything?
Take a nap.
I am such a huge help to myself it's amazing
Me: 'Hey Self, we kind of have a lot of stuff to do, want to pack some boxes today?'
Me Again: 'Uhh... while I see the value in your idea to pack boxes, I feel that it would be more beneficial to my person if I took a nap for a couple hours and then reevaluated the box packing situation at that point...'
Me: 'That's great! Thanks SO much for all of you help here...'
Me Again: 'Hey, I'm fat, leave me alone.'
I am my own worst enemy. BUT I'm thinking that I will get stuff done today. I'm fuelled by aggravation and I'm feeling fairly aggravated with Mr. Pretties today (Hey, I'm just keeping it real here) so that just might be the kick in the get moving department I need to make a big dent in the packing. You would have thought the stack of apple boxes that are taller than me in every square foot of my bedroom to the point where I can't move, would be motivation enough, but apparently not.
Here's wishing me luck!! Maybe if I finish enough boxes I'll reward myself with a nap :)