21 Days

Three weeks until my Cesarean.

I've got too much to do. I showed a friend one of the pictures of our foyer to describe where we have our motion detectors set up -- and I almost cried. The caption was "My messy, messy foyer!"

Yeah, no. There is no mess like a toddler mess, because the toddler mess NEVER GETS CLEAN.

I want my house back. I want my foyer to be cleared of clutter. It's hard to bend over at this point! I was picking up burger off the floor (cat was full) and was out of breath. I'm measuring so far ahead all ready - it's like I'm 38 weeks! [NOTE: I'm 32..]

BUT I NEED TO CLEAN.

I think this is deadline-induced nesting instinct. I want to vacuum my stairs. I want my office cleared out and acceptable to spend time in. I want my foyer back - and I want to get rid of the bookcase in the foyer that is allowing my (amazingly frustrating) cat to set off our burglary alarm - and thus giving me a stroke every so often.

I want my sheets washed, I want my clothes to be sorted and put away by season, I want my closet re-organized, I want my kid's toys cleaned and sorted through. I want my floors vacuumed and Pledge'd. I want  to hang my jewelry board in my room and get it away from both animal and baby. I want my kitchen organized in a way that actually functions.

Don't get me started on the basement. I'm not allowed to go down there right now. And heaven forbid I start thinking about the little flower garden I wanted to plant. Or the fence we need to build.

I'm feeling this anxiety go all the way into my fingertips. But I'm stuck with my belly. And disgust at the general state of my home.

I just want to say his name. Over and over. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry. Henry.