Puppies Cont.

Alright, let's be reasonable. I'm not quite ready to sell the dogs. I think if we had to take a vote in the house, and the truth be told, I would go up for bids long before those mutts would. No one would be brave enough to say that out loud, but they love those dogs; everyone else in the house loves those dogs. So I treated Scooder again and ordered some heavy duty doggie drugs to combat the fleas. We are planning a blitzkrieg against them as soon as the drugs arrive in the mail. That gives me some reassurance that the problem with be taken care of before our sweet miracle comes home with us to stay. Regarding Max, I don't know if he is sensing the desperation or what, but he has decided he'd rather sleep all night than to be locked in his kennel for long stretches of it. For two nights he has stayed put and not chewed anything until we are up. Thank You, God, Your mercy abounds even to a wretch like me. My sincere apologies to those of you that had hoped to purchase these precious hounds for your family, it's just not going to happen this time. But stay with me. I'm having a baby soon and with that in mind and my wits may scatter again due to the neediness of one or both of them.

On the home front the nesting continues at an almost fevered pitch. I don't know how it happens or what provokes it, but nesting hits me and I have to move furniture. I wish I could initiate it at various other seasons of my life, but I just can't conjure it up. It hits me all and once and I'm a slave to it. At 8:00 last night, I decided it was imperative that I rearrange our bedroom furniture, so I did. Rearranging involves a lot of deep cleaning, which I know it part of the nesting, but I wonder if it's innate- not only the cleaning, but the work. I wonder if it's a necessary part to prep your body for labor. It's weird; I've done this every time. With Leila, we moved the boys into the girls' room and the girls into the boys' room- bunk beds, dressers, toys, the whole she-bang. With Micah, I moved out all the appliances and cleaned under them. With Jas, I decided we had to get rid of the wardrobe so I toted the blasted thing out of her bedroom by myself and then waited for the garage sale. With Tre, we were moving out of state so that pretty much took care of my need to work by filling every second with stress and a mountain of work ahead of every day. I don't know how I did it with him though, I was so out of shape and miserable by the end of that pregnancy... I'm pretty sure the help I needed came in droves and what I remember about the stress was actually the part I considered work back then. Thank you to all of you that filled boxes with and emptied my refrigerator, your generosity has never been forgotten.

So on the one hand, I'm working really hard and tossing dressers on my back and doing laundry and scrubbing corners and walls, but on the other hand, preparation for every meal is a miserable chore. I don't mind doing it once it is started, it's the starting that is so hard. I don't want to decide what to make, I don't want to think out what needs to thaw; it's not even the mess that concerns me because the kids have been given full responsibility of the clean-up after every meal now that we're inside the two-week window. But what I really want to do is just order pizza. Every night I want to order pizza and eat pizza every night. Don't tell Dale or the kids, they need to believe that I am a balanced mother and that eating a balanced diet is important to me, but at this point I could really just go for a pizza. I'm glad for the checks and balances; can you imagine if I ate pizza every night what I'd look like at the end of this pregnancy? *again, refer to the results following my pregnancy with Tre. Yikes.