The new, the old, the never ending incidents.....

It's Friday again. It's Friday and my original evening plans fell through which means I have a glorious night of Wendy's drive-thru and TV shows I would otherwise not watch, due to the presence of my husband. He's out tonight. Out at a thing called Hopscotch, which is a Scotch festival. I anticipate one of those evenings where I wake up, alone, around 4:44am, carefully walk down the stairs (as to avoid another fall), and find him asleep with the Xbox remote in his hand, glasses on his face, and the dog sleeping in one of his body crevices. I cherish those moments, in my groggy state. Something about my boys snuggling gives my heart warm fuzzy's. Warm fuzzy's until I realize I need to pee so bad it hurts.

Anyways, the last week has been a week like any other - a little bit totally normal, a lot of new things and of course, some unfortunate incidents. I don't know if  we have ever gotten through an entire week without some sort of incident since we met, but I suppose that which doesn't kill you (or force you to kill each other) only makes you stronger. More on this weeks incidents later. For now, I want to talk about the same.

It's nice to have the sameness. I am learning to appreciate the sameness, because I know it will soon come to an abrupt end, and the same will never be the same again. As the weeks pass by, marked every Wednesday by a new and exciting fruit, this whole baby thing becomes increasingly more apparent. More real. So for now I'm going to enjoy the things which are the same. Because when this chapter of our life together is over, I know I'll miss it. Long for it even, on certain days.

So for now, I enjoy that every Thursday night I go to O's house, which I've been doing for about 5 years or more. And even that has changed as we've grown. She's moved, I've moved. The TV shows have changed (but let's face it, are the same) and we've gone from cheap wine and cigarettes, to less cheap wine and cigarettes, to a year and a half of sobriety. It's not because we gave up on wine and menthols, it's because we went from her being pregnant, to me following shortly after her daughter was born. So sober we are, but we're counting the days until the wine come back (but we're not bringing back the cigarettes).

I enjoy the nights on the couch with my husband, complaining about the lack of entertaining TV, eating our dinner at the coffee table (despite it now being on another floor than the kitchen) and completely vegging out. Whether we're watching one of the few BluRay's available to rent, or some made for TV movie, we're together, alone, and we're enjoying it. The time is drawing near where, we may never be alone again. And we certainly won't be having nights like this, where we come home from work together, make dinner and waste several hours on the couch. It just won't happen.

And again, I'm not complaining. In fact, I'm doing the opposite (rejoicing?). I'm truly learning to enjoy the life we've built, so that I can prepare for it to all change. The closer it get's, the better prepared I am for a major life change. Profound hey? Hardly, I bet there is some hormone in my body doing this.But I'll take them. I have to admit this week feels a bit clearer. I'm more excited at the thought of baby, she seems more real to me now, and I'm getting ready to enjoy mommyness. I know it'll be hard, but for some reason I think I can do it. But that's this week, check in with me at Week 37, when labour is pending and I'm in full on panic.

Now for the new things this week. Our daughter (I'm finally getting use to saying this!) has taken to staying up all night and practicing her tap routine. And not that I don't enjoy her eagerness, it just sometimes wakes me up. But even that I enjoy. I love waking up to the feeling of her, tap dancing on one of my vital organs, because any reminder that she's alive and well in there is certainly welcome. Even if it means my spleen will never be the same.

She's also trying to get me fat. I have been the most hungry person on the planet this week, and there is just nothing I can do to satisfy it. I'm hungry from breakfast until snack time, and then until lunch. After lunch I'm hungry again, and snack, until I stuff myself with a dinner which cannot satisfy my hunger. I've had cereal at midnight, then tried to immediately go to bed, so I could sleep without being hungry. But then I just dream in bagels and lasagna. Mmmmmm lasagna....anyway.....

We've also finally booked a meeting with our first doula. I've been having a hell of a time finding one. I had a few referrals but wasn't getting any calls back. And frankly sister, if you can't answer my inquiry about your services, I'm not trusting you to help deliver our first child.However, at the appointment with the midwife this week, they offered up some suggestions. I found one I loved, but she was booked. But she referred me to someone else, so here's to hoping.

How does one go about interviewing a doula exactly anyway? I mean, this person is going to see me, buck naked, bodily fluids leaking from various orifices, moaning like cattle and praying to a god I don't believe in that the pain ends soon. Talk about pressure. The relationship between a doula (or midwife) and their client goes from new to ragingly intimate in a short period of time. I wonder how we'll all look each other in the face after?

In other news, the belly is definitely growing. It seems to get bigger by the day this week and I'm starting to feel like someone might actually guess I was pregnant. The one downside (the only I can think of, except the inability to wear flipflops without looking insane) to being pregnant in the winter is, it just looks like you've already been overindulging in the Christmas spirit. Layering up with a sweater and a jacket does not accentuate the belly in the right way. It just screams "this chicks almost 30 and now has a beer gut". The irony of it all, I get a beer gut when I have not had any beer in 5 months time.

And finally, husband and I found our nursery set for much less than we'd see it originally, and quickly jumped at the chance to purchase it. That and the stroller, but these topics are for a later thread.

That's probably it for news. So now we're onto the weekly incident.

To recap, LAST weeks incident came in the form of my 5 year old Boston Terrier Tuker, and his ability to cry me out of $500 worth of emergency doggy leg Xrays. $500 xrays on a leg which, is apparently completely fine. But that was last week. The week before, it was a "routine oil change" which turned into a timing belt and $1100 other things we had to do to maintain our 9 year old car. We only have one, and we have no money, so we best be good to it.

This week it was the house. If it's not the dog or the car getting us, it's the house. We did the roof in the summer, that was expected. Then a few weeks (and $5000) ago, we had to replace our furnace. Last night, the call from the tenant (because it's ALWAYS the poor tenant who notices these things) was "so um, the hot water tank is leaking". The effing what is effing WHAT? The HOT WATER TANK is LEAKING. Goddamnit!

Down my husband goes (because these things ONLY occur when he's home alone) to assess. Yup. It's leaking alright. We 911 call our plumber friend and wake him up. He tells husband what to do, and husbanc complies. We're left with no hot water in an instant. No prep time, no time for a shower. Just OFF. Fawk. Too bad it was all for not. Because the hot water shut off was broken, and the damn thing leaked all night anyway. It leaked all night so I COULD have just showered but no. Instead I interviewed a girl for my maternity leave, smelling like yesterday. Good thing I don't drink right now.

Another quick job by our new best friends at Reid Brothers plumbing, and by 5pm today, we've got a new bad ass water tank, with 15 extra gallons. Hopefully this will reduce the amount of obscenity filled, cold shower mornings for me. For $1800 it better. Now I'll just swear about the bank account, but I'll do it from the warmth of the shower.

So our baby booty is painfully depleted, and we're reeling from all the stuff that's gone on. We're warm and soon to be clean, but reeling none the less. Damn houses, who ever said they were such a great ideal. I think the renters have it better.

But it's our home. The home we bought to start a family, and start it we did. I think we lived here all of 24 days before they count me as pregnant (even though that was 2 weeks before I even OVULATED), so we clearly didn't waste anytime. Shocked the shit out of my husband but, I think he's getting used to the idea now.

And hey, unless they let me stay pregnant until 43 weeks, our daughter will be born before my 30th birthday. So as far as I'm concerned, we couldn't have timed it any better :)