November? November???
I'm determined that November didn't have a full thirty days. I mean, seriously, where did it go? I only made it through three posts this month...and I had so many more that I thought about writing. I'm highly disappointed in the disappearance of November.
I recognize that this is not typical for me. After all, December is My Month, the celebration of all that is Me. I have my birthday, the end of school, my favourite holiday, my anniversary, and possibly (possibly) a baby coming (if he comes early). But frankly, this year, I think I'm trying to survive My Month even more than I'm looking forward to the relaxation it usually promises. After all, there isn't much relaxing about the possibility of going into labour. Just saying. Neither is there much relaxing about the thought of corralling 100 or so preschoolers into a somewhat organized Christmas program. But December is here, and my plan is to end the year with a full complement of fireworks and exciting explosions. Let's go out with a bang!
Until that bang, though, I'm so glad to have my parents here to help me survive the bloating belly syndrome. Dad put together the dresser yesterday and the crib today, and Mom is cooking and cleaning and organizing up a storm, and I have rarely been this grateful in my life. I admit to certain prideful and self-sufficient tendencies around August that led me to believe that I could handle this myself, but let me tell you honestly: I can't. Putting a fitted crib sheet on requires a little less belly than I have.
All this to say, November, where did you go? December is fast upon us and suddenly I'm nine months pregnant and utterly dependent on my parents (which hasn't happened in quite some time), but December brings the halfway point for the Man's deployment, and that is definitely something to rejoice over.
I recognize that this is not typical for me. After all, December is My Month, the celebration of all that is Me. I have my birthday, the end of school, my favourite holiday, my anniversary, and possibly (possibly) a baby coming (if he comes early). But frankly, this year, I think I'm trying to survive My Month even more than I'm looking forward to the relaxation it usually promises. After all, there isn't much relaxing about the possibility of going into labour. Just saying. Neither is there much relaxing about the thought of corralling 100 or so preschoolers into a somewhat organized Christmas program. But December is here, and my plan is to end the year with a full complement of fireworks and exciting explosions. Let's go out with a bang!
Until that bang, though, I'm so glad to have my parents here to help me survive the bloating belly syndrome. Dad put together the dresser yesterday and the crib today, and Mom is cooking and cleaning and organizing up a storm, and I have rarely been this grateful in my life. I admit to certain prideful and self-sufficient tendencies around August that led me to believe that I could handle this myself, but let me tell you honestly: I can't. Putting a fitted crib sheet on requires a little less belly than I have.
All this to say, November, where did you go? December is fast upon us and suddenly I'm nine months pregnant and utterly dependent on my parents (which hasn't happened in quite some time), but December brings the halfway point for the Man's deployment, and that is definitely something to rejoice over.
