I am DETERMINED to get back on Flylady. While the nausea isn't gone, it has gotten better during the day so that I, once again, have the ability to do more than lay on the couch with the kidlets and complain that I hate being pregnant.
Which I do, by the way... but more on that later.
Alex has been phenomenal about keeping up with the house to the best of his ability. The issue does not lie with what he can or cannot do, it lies in that he does not do it the way that I, Queen of the House, would do it. The fact remains, though, that Alex has been * doing it *, and I have been laying on the couch, bemoaning our decision to make me sick for six months straight.
And the other day, I attempted to dress the kids and was dismayed. Mila had no pants, and none of the shirts I liked for her. Robby had no pants, no socks, but plenty of undies and t shirts. Alex was out of jeans, out of socks, and out of undies. I was out of maternity pants and wearable tshirts ( Read : Tshirts that cover the bulge... They are in short supply ).
While I briefly debated buying new clothes, the idea of braving the mall was more scary than actually doing the laundry. I dove headfirst into the laundry room. Headfirst, of course, being the only way to get INTO the laundry room, where the piles of laundry had just about reached the top of the washer. It honestly looked like the laundry was attempting to reach the top of the washer to wash its own damn self.
I did six loads. Yes. Six. I dumped each one onto the bed, where it languished, unfolded and quickly wrinkling into unwearability, until bathtime. Since the bathtub and the bed are catty corner across the hall, I can easily keep an ear and half an eye on the kids while I fold, listening to my music. And oh, oh! Did I fold!
All of Robby's shirts on hangers... Mila's PJ's on hangers. Baskets of socks, baskets of undies. It all got folded and ( mostly ) put away. I felt accomplished. I felt like I had done something.
Until I realized that six loads had hardly made a dent.
And onto other things. Hopefully, more exciting than my inability to scale Mt. Washmore.
The kids are great. Robby is counting down the days till Hanukah and therefore the beginning of the countdown to Florida. Mila is growing ( albeit slowly the past 2 weeks, which is fine ). Her gtube is icky looking but CERTAINLY not infected , with a bit of granulation tissue underneath the button itself.
The 3 cases of formula were denied by Fedex. We sent them via Canada Post for less than half the cost Fedex wasn't willing to ship them for, and we hope they arrive in time.
Alex is working insane hours from now until we leave for Floria. I will miss you, my husband. I will miss you so much until I see you again.
And the pregnancy is going well. Cletus the Fetus ( known only as Coco to the baby ) will be having his/her echocardiogram on Monday at 1pm. Wednesday, I have a prenatal appointment. After that... I don't know if we have ANY appointments until we come back!!!
And me. I hate being pregnant. The nausea sucks - three mornings in a row, I puked despite the Zofran. I despise wasting $10 pills on vomit. I am also exhausted and cranky. But I do get a baby out of this, so while I am complaining, it is good natured and in the right spirit.
And now back to folding.
Oh wait, did I not mention I did FOUR MORE LOADS of laundry today, to complete the six I did yesterday, and I must now fold the 7th, 8th, 9th, and 10th loads.