Right now...

... Cheez-its are ground into the rug

...Kitten-chow is scattered all over the kitchen floor, along with tiny little water pawprints

...the kitchen counters are bathed in a concoction of flour, water, enchilada sauce, and mysterious crumbs

...a novel's worth of Ewan's school papers are scattered around the house, and I can't throw them away, but have nowhere to place them

...Fynn, who skipped a nap today, is trudging around in his bedroom grabbing toys and periodically trying to escape unnoticed. Go to sleep already, kid.

...there's more dirty laundry than can be reasonably done in 24-hour period of time

...there's a stack of magazines and books about one foot tall that I never have time to read

...there's a stack of random papers and odds & ends on the side-table, again with no home to put them

...I need a shower

...a sticky substance has settled down on my desk and has started raising a little family of mini-sticky substances

... my bedroom is a disaster area of hurricane aftermath proportions of unfolded laundry and baby stuff

...I am exhausted

... I should be taking care of the things on this list, and I know I'm on the computer instead, but I just can't go in that kitchen. All I want is to settle down with cookies and vegetate.

Why can't I get this done during the day? Because Corgan never stops whining and crying, Ewan & Fynn play Spider-man to the point of injuring each other, which results in an unbearable amount of whining, and then me being followed around by mini humans saying, "Hold you, pick me up." When I do feel like I have a spare second and start to tackle something, a major spill occurs, or someone gets badly hurt, or Corgan starts SCREAMING. *Sigh* I'm tapped out. It's one of those nights where I feel like I could just go catatonic with the seemingly undoable amount of work to be done.

I'm not trying to say "woe is me," but I just love my family and want to be able to do the best for them, and just feel like I can't keep up. Argh! I know I've fussed about this before, but I just felt the need to vent as I sat here on my break from bulldozing the kitchen mess. Off to the trenches I return...

Nervous wreck

I spent most of today just finishing the laundry and concentrating on the boys since I'll be in the hospital for the rest of the week.  Ewan is so excited about the baby that he's incredibly hyper, which is totally cute.  Fynn of course really has no clue what's about to happen, although I've tried to give him some idea about a baby in my belly coming out.  We'll see.  So today we just played outside, did puzzles, watched movies and napped.  It's been a good day.

Except ever since I woke up this afternoon from our nap, I am so incredibly nervous that I'm sick to my stomach.  There's an off-color expression for how nervous I am, one my dad says frequently and one that I'm sure at least some of you have heard, but I won't say it just because many of you are also Mormon, and I don't know what your threshold is for offense.  Let's just say it involves women of the night and church pews.  I don't remember being even close to this nervous when I went in for my C-section with Fynn, but maybe I've forgotten.  And while part of it is thinking of what could go wrong, most of it is this weird thought that nothing is going to be right.  And I know it's just nerves, but it's still scary.  I just can't imagine actually holding the baby and having him be here.  Can't imagine it to the point where it feels like it won't happen.  Part of it may be that I've heard way too many stories recently of stillborn babies.  All afternoon I've been freaking out if I don't feel him move for a certain amount of time.  I know, I sound crazy, and I don't know what sparked it.  I just wish it would go away.

At any rate, we're getting things prepared here.  I packed the boys' t-shirts that Sarah and Ashley made that say "Big Brother" on them for them to wear when they go to the hospital tomorrow afternoon.  They'll be so cute.  If I could shake this melancholy panicky feeling, I'd be able to say that I can't freakin' wait!  I'll have Bryce post some pictures as soon as possible tomorrow.

Needed: Live-in Nanny

You'd think we'd learn our lesson the first time. Tube-slide + lap-riding toddler = broken leg.  (For those who aren't on my private blog, there is a picture on Ashley's blog here.)  Yes, his leg is broken. The same leg. At the same park. Although not on the same exact slide, on one identical to last time.  This time, it was not me who bears the guilt, but Bryce, who feels about the size of a midget flea.  He had a surprise day off today, so we took the boys to the park, and little ol' me was just sitting on the bench nagging at Bryce, "Hold his legs in!"  Even Ewan kept saying, "Hold his legs, Daddy!"  And he did hold his legs.  Then I heard a crack, which I thought nothing of until I heard an unearthly wail coming from Fynn.  Last time, it was a "non-displaced" fracture, and basically the crack was so tiny that the doctor almost missed it on the X-ray.    He didn't need a cast or even a splint last time, although he was in one for the first couple of days.  I don't really know the difference, but the doctor this time said it was an acute fracture.  He's just in a splint now, but he'll be in a cast for six weeks starting next Wednesday.  I don't even know how he's going to handle it, or me for that matter, especially after the baby comes and I am caring for a newborn and a cast-ridden toddler.  Plus making sure Ewan gets the attention he needs with all this going on.  As of now, Fynn is mostly okay, the picture above is him letting us elevate his leg while he snacks on Cheez-its and watches Cars.  

And I want to give Sarah an outpouring of thanks for letting us drop Ewan off for the day totally last minute, especially after the fit he was throwing when we dropped him off.  But Sarah is so awesome because she is so patient and just assured me he'd be fine and shuffled me out the door.  Thanks for being so understanding of Ewan and his moods and for helping us out!  We love you!

A haze of laze for the rest of my days

This pregnancy is so kicking my butt, that I fear I'll just be lazy for the rest of my life. Seriously, I am "out of commission" so much lately, that Bryce ends up doing tons of extra work for me, and I struggle through the rest of the day while he's at work. My kids are subsisting on dry cereal and if they are lucky, Spaghettios. What if this becomes a habit? I really do get scared of that. My biggest fear in life (besides the obvious - losing a loved one) is that I'll become this lazy mom who eats bon-bons all day and barks orders at my kids while reading trashy novels. I just can't even imagine being back to normal at this point. Last night, when Bryce walked in from work at nearly midnight, he found me on the couch, literally unable to walk the ten feet to the bathroom to brush my teeth due to my back problem. I wasn't feeling humble enough to crawl, so I'd waited there for twenty minutes for him to come home and help me. Forgive my whining, it's just the state I'm in. As if it wasn't challenging enough, I was rudely awakened this morning by a monster of a Charlie horse that has yet to completely go away, as well as having a sore throat, aching head and a cough as the cherry on top. I know, I know, I should stop whining. But I'm so good at it - the one thing I'll never be lazy about. I really do not post this for sympathy, I just really do worry about the affect this will have on me after the baby comes. That fear rises up so much, I guess just because this is all I know right now - the days of normalcy seem so far behind.