Or, aren't midwife home visits supposed to be less stressful than going all the way into the office?
I'm going to have to go with no. This isn't going to be a long post, or a great post (okay, or even a mediocre post) but it'll be a post. This morning was our scheduled midwife home visit where they come and tell us that our house is too cold (I'm sorry, doesn't everyone have their thermostat set at a balmy 66 degrees?) which made me sad, I had even made the effort to turn UP the heat so that others would think we live in a civilized environment... and point out that if you move your bedroom upstairs (where it SHOULD be, don't ask) to the room that's designated for you, that it doesn't have a heating duct... (Got to love that conversation 'Where's the heating vent in this room' Me: 'Psh... why it's right over... over... over... what the hell? This room HAS no heating vent?!') and follow it up with 'And where is the closest bathroom? There's one up here right?' Uhh... No. Sorry. Our one and only bathroom is downstairs, on the opposite end of the house down the narrow steep stairs. For some reason keeping our bedroom on the main floor until baby gets here seems to be the most feasible plan at this point. See? This is why they do home visits, so they can think of all the stuff that I hadn't! So that's settled!
Then all the kids were home today, conveniently, for my visit. You know how you watch A Baby Story and people either take their children to the Obs office, or the midwife comes over and they sit their angelically listening to the babies' heartbeat, asking sweet questions, and talk about how excited they are for their new sibling? In real life, that doesn't happen. Lamps get knocked over, chickens wind up in the house, and the dog and the rabbit get into a giant raucus, all while asking the probability of bleeding to death in the near future. It really wasn't what I had pictured for this appointment... Which has brought me to the decision that if something some how derails in our plan to have the children out of the house for the birth, we will infact relocate to the hospital immediately because a peaceful, relaxing birth will not be a possibility under those conditions. Maybe I'll also rethink my distaste for long hospital stays and make it into a vacation, maybe a week, a month? The first six months of baby's life? We'll play it be ear ;)
Things are simply not always as you expect them. It's kind of our life theme song (you know, if quotes could be theme songs...). I also didn't expect a barn full of dead raccoons, Hotdog to turn into demon spawn, or that having a much larger house would do nothing to decrease noise and insanity inside of it. You could have a McMansion and the littles would still insist on congregating in one area while fighting and being as loud as humanly possible. I don't understand it myself, but such it is.
Now I need to go locate the bowl with the remaining pink fluffy icing from lastnight's Valentine's cake and have it for lunch. And pick up the bowl of fruit the littlest little just tossed all over my floor. Cleaning up canned fruit is actually a difficult, if not ackward, task that I'm not looking forward to. Too bad Hotdog has no desire to eat fruit...