What Is The Sound Of One Hand Typing?

Raising a child is the most exhausting thing I've ever done. EVER. The little darling is sleeping right now (God only knows for how long or short) so I am typing as fast as I can. Yes, I should be sleeping, too. It's impossible to blog with him clinging to the left side of my body while my right hand bounces around the keyboard. I've tried. Very frustrating.




Two weeks ago, we moved into our remodeled house but were told we couldn't officially "move in". At the time, the electricity didn't pass inspection so we were informed that we could put our crap inside but we couldn't live there. Huh? Was someone really going to try and stop me from sleeping in my own bed in my new master bedroom? To make matters worse, there is no gas therefore no hot water and no heat. This will finally be remedied tomorrow but remember, we moved "in" two weeks ago. In an effort to avoid the constant traffic of contractors crawling around the house like insects on a pile of poop, hubby, baby and I went to the coast for a week in hopes of returning to a home we can actually inhabit. The time away was, well, like being at home with baby but just in a different house somewhere else. We did go on a few stroller walks but the mosquitos were relentless and once I looked down to find a huge beast perched on the end of Willem's nose! Freak out! I did make my pilgrimage to purchase a giant cinnamon roll and that was a highlight. I saw the beach from the back of my truck while everyone else frollicked in the waves like seals. My husband's brother, wife and daughter joined us over the weekend and I was more than eager to play "pass the baby" as they were eager participants. One of the many perks of the extended family.

So now we're home in a house full of boxes, the contents of which have revealed more junk than I can believe we were stupid enough to pack up a year ago. We could open our own Goodwill. We even gave away two suitcases and some clothes today to a couple walking down the street. Is that weird?

I unpacked Willem's room right away when we "moved in". Repressed nesting took a hold of me and I didn't stop until it was done. Of course, it's still an unfinished version of what it will be someday but Willem seems to like it. His changing table is by a sunny window now unlike before when it was stuffed in a closet smelling of stale shoes. He smiles and bounces his arms and legs as the sun makes him squint to the point of visual darkness. I bought him the coolest moblie but my arms get tired dangling the heavy thing over his not-so-little head to amuse him. It only attaches to a crib and we don't have one of those yet so I angle it like a fishing rod with a big catch on the end and watch my son swing his spastic arms to touch it. Oh, the things I will do to see him smile.

On a side note, have I mentioned breast pads yet? No? Did I think for a minute that I would be a candidate for such products? No way. Am I keeping the companies in business? Definitely. I never thought I'd be wearing round maxipads on my boobs. No one spoke of the possiblity. Is it only a big deal to me? Perhaps. For the record, I hate them but perfectly circular tandem wet spots on any shirt are out of the question.