So, yesterday I worked my fanny off. It started out as a regular Thursday; I was up at 5:30, at school by 7:30, and home by 12:00. Then I laid out for a few hours and I have some magnificent tan lines now! (You must understand that life gets no better for me than laying our in the sun, where it is warm and relaxing. It is the best way to clear my head). Then, a few hours later I just had this need to get busy.
So, I moved my Cricut and scrapping materials downstairs to their new room, and got all of that organized. I also did about 5 loads of laundry (how do 2 people produce so much laundry in a week?) This makes me fearful of life after the next 4 months: how much laundry exactly does a baby produce? Because I have a feeling it will be more than this, and that is terrifying. Anyways, so I did all of those chores, scrubbed the bathrooms (which were SO overdue, gross!), and did the floors. Used to, I could have continued working for 4 more hours before I fell flat on my face. However, pregnancy has a tendency to change that. Although I have my energy back now, it is not the same energy I had pre-pregnancy. I am beginning to think I will never have energy like that again.. babies probably have that affect on you. =/
After exhausting myself, finishing a little homework, and with an aching back I climbed in a hot, hot shower. Then, I collapsed next to J and pretty sure I didn’t move after that. However, I did ask him, “Do you realize in less than 21 weeks we will have a baby? Really, like a real baby?” He replied, “Yes, I do realize that, Meg.” Then, I asked, “Do you think we will be good parents?” and without hesitation he responded, “Absolutely.”
I am glad one of us has faith in this whole parenting thing! No, really I have faith it will be fine, too. But you know really when you have planned for a child and have thought about all these things and contemplated what you will do, etc. it is probably a little less scary in your head, a little less frantic. While I have become much, much more excited, I am still a little frantic. But I don’t think God will let me screw up too bad, I hope.
Anyways, so our little conversation before I passed out last night, reminded me of the Schoolhouse Rock Song, “Three is a Magic Number.” And after finding the video online and watching it, I realized as much as I loove J, and as much as my life is pretty close to perfect with him, I think it may get even better. Is that really possible? Maybe three really is a magic number…