Day 529: Don't Touch Me

The stairs leading from the main floor of my house to the upstairs area or my house are the loudest pieces of wood that have ever been slung together. I was literally trapped upstairs a moment ago, after having settled Blaze down again; unable to chance walking down them for fear of waking him up again. A prisoner in my own home! In the upper floor of my own home! That's somehow worse.. surely. 

He's very easily upset the last couple of nights, this guy. We've switched his milk from robot formula we buy at Walmart... whoa is me! to homogenized milk. We're thinking perhaps that has something to do with it. Whatever the case, he's been a little more difficult to put to bed the last couple of nights. My back is stinging just from leaning over his crib consoling him. He springs up and yanks on my neck like a possum, shrieking in my face -with a soother still in his mouth..talented- and tries to either pull me down into the crib to use me in a hostage type system, or trying to climb my head like a ladder. 

Stupid stairs. Unbelievable. If you happen to be an assassin who is on the way to take me out I should really warn you about the stairs leading to my bedroom. They're impassable. Don't even bother. There's literally no way of ascending quietly. No footholds, handholds, shelving or anything of the like to even climb over them; it's just a series of steps strapped to shotgun shells that snap and boom like thunder the entire way up or down.

Also, Hubble will start barking by the time you turn down the lane to the house.

He's got a hair trigger himself that one. 

I'm eating montreal smoked meat Lay's chips right now, for any of my American friends would like to hear about the kinds of seasonings Canadians put on chips. I can't imagine any of them would have any idea what Montreal smoked meat is -other than the comics who go to Montreal for the festival- and what the city would be doing to their meat to deserve a bag of chips created from it. 

We had a lot of rain today. More thunder and lightning. Crazy, considering just down in the valley where the majority of my family lives, they got none of it. My tractor guy, James, was forced to quit after only four hours or so of work out in the yard. He got drenched a couple of times and then finally called it a day. I had no idea he was even coming so from my perspective it was four more hours toward completion than I was expecting. 

Jeannette was a nesting machine today. All day she was running around cleaning and getting the house ready for her mom and the coming wee one. I worked in the garage for most of the day, getting called in to help her with any of the heavy items, as one does, and as it turns out she had in mind a fair amount of moving things around. No worries, I was happy to help and the house looks a lot better for it.

She worked straight through the heat this one, but you can't stop her. She just goes and goes. She does take breaks when she gets tired, and would head down into the basement where it's cool and hang out with Amy and Blaze. But otherwise she's off to the races. 

The argument for being active during a pregnancy, as she has been, would be that she is hitting all her markers along the way for determining a healthy term. She's measuring a week small than she is and hasn't gained any weight since the last visit. All signs are positive and she's feeling great, despite her fatigue. 

We have NO IDEA what we're going to do after this one comes. I might have to just stay away from her. That might prove harder in practice than in theory, given that we're heading into what will likely be another cold, hard, long winter. That's not a good environment when two people are trying to keep one of those people from getting pregnant. So who can say? I'm always game to just see what happens, but obviously, it's not MY BODY! So we'll see. The good news is... there's no way we can get pregnant right now. And if all the motivational guru type people out there are right, it's all about the present moment. 

Which means I should probably stop yapping at you guys and get up there. 

Not to suggest there will be any funny business. She won't touch me while I have this burgeoning beard on my face. I actually promised her to shave it before we go to the hospital despite my hope of growing it back. I usually dig my head in (yes, head, not heels) when it comes to the facial hair, but who can resist a woman walking around swollen into a waddling form with a little piece of you inside? Who I say?? Not a man, surely. 

Note: I did dictate a blog earlier, but was too lazy to pull it up on my phone and transcribe it so I just pounded this out. Grim!