I've been treated like gold in these last few weeks as we await the arrival of Baby M2 any day now. I get away with guilt-free naps, cozying into the couch with my book or taking a warm bath with the soundtrack to my relaxation playing in the background - The clink of dishes being unloaded from the dishwasher, the sound of toys being picked up off the floor and tossed in the toy baskets or the patter of big footprints chasing little ones in circles around the house.
I'm being catered to so much so that even our three-year-old has picked up on the fact that he and his daddy are holding down the fort. The other day I told him that we better clean up our mess in the basement before daddy gets home from work because daddy just cleaned it. He was so irate by his hard work going unnoticed that he actually stuttered a little bit trying to get his feelings out in the open.
"ME and daddy cleaned the basement!" Then he raised his arm and pointed accusingly at me (while I was on the couch watching TV) and added, "YOU watch TV all day!"
Whoa. Little punk. It was one of those, "out of the mouths of babes" that left me speechless. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry so I just tucked the blanket a little higher up under my chin and turned my attention back to my show.
Call it a swift kick in the ass... or nesting, but the next day I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor, making my way to the baseboards and up the walls throughout the house.
That was enough of a pat on the back to satisfy me. I've been back in my jammies since verbally instructing Ryker, from the glider, on how to get his own snacks, fix his own toys and wipe his own bum.
Hey! Who knows how long this will last?
March 18, 2015
As a side note, while the guilt I've been saved from creeps in for just a minute, let me say that never in my life have I been able to just do nothing. I like to tell myself that this new pre-baby role is the Universe's way of telling me that shit is about to get crazy around here, and so I'm listening.