I bought some white sheets with black plus signs on them at Target last week, after months of agonizing over new sheets. Then I saw 4 Instagrams this morning of people with the same sheets. Dang it, Target.
Speaking of Target, I went yesterday to grab a few things. They've had these extremely overpriced plastic bins that would've been perfect to put on the shelves in the changing table, but every time I talked myself out of it. I finally decided to just go buy the darn things, and when I got there they were gone. GONE. After much scouting, I found two smashed behind some woven baskets, and I snagged them. The cashier asked me when I was due, and I said "yesterday!" She said she knew it had to be soon, because I had "quite the waddle." I rolled with it and didn't tell her that my waddle was exaggerated due to the fact that I didn't wear leggings under my dress for once since my incubator settings are cranked up high, and my thighs were chafing. I walked out preserving a little dignity until I realized I forgot to buy mascara for the 3rd time. I told James that story, and he said "but you really do have quite the waddle." It's true.
I love the look and idea of linen napkins, but I don't understand why people use them. They get dirty! And stained! More laundry! They would stress me out. Clearly I am not an environmentalist. I'll be over here with my roll of paper towels and destroying the earth or whatever.
I accidentally watched about 30 minutes of golf with James last weekend. One of the players was walking around the green like it ain't no thang, and all I could do was look at James and say "how is he walking like it's not hard? Why isn't he out of breath? He doesn't look like his back is breaking? Is that what it's like to not be pregnant?!?" And the thing is, I was serious. I'm unaware of a different life than one that isn't dominated by top-heaviness. You mean people can actually bend over without falling and/or crying?
Ever since I sort of got my taste for coffee back, I've been ordering lattes. A good latte will send me through the roof with joy these days. I usually order a decaf, except for after my OB appointments, because I need to reward myself for surviving those. Anyway, decaf? I feel like such a poser. Like, who am I and what have I done with myself? I feel like I'm pretending to be someone else when I order decaf. There's a little thrill involved, like I'm using a fake ID. NOT THAT I'VE EVER DONE THAT I SWEAR I HAVEN'T. But I imagine it feels like ordering decaf, which was previously against my religion. Scandalous!
Every time I think I have our townhouse just the way I want it, I get another idea. It's driving me insane. We have this big blank wall in the kitchen and a lack of cabinets, so now I'm obsessed with the idea of channeling Julia Child and putting up a pegboard for my pots and pans. I'm convinced it would make me a better cook. I might even develop a french accent. I bet it would get me a book deal. The possibilities! Clearly it is in my best interest. I've been randomly sending James pictures and tutorials all week in hopes that he'll make it happen for me. But without me asking, because he already has been doing everything for me lately. Don't you wish you were married to me? Don't answer that.
I'm going to go make some more tea and clean. And by clean I mean read. And by read, I mean maybe take a nap. You get it.