Hello, I hope everyone out there had a lovely Valentine's day. I did, mostly because I stayed in my pyjamas until 4:30 in the afternoon and felt positively guiltless about it. I needed to take the day completely off. I am stressed out. Know why? In exactly 10 days from today I will move with my husband and two dogs out of our duplex and into my parents' house! For 4 months! My cat is going to move in with Granny Lynn, and he'll probably fall madly in love with her and never want to come home to the cheerful chaos that will be our new digs. Bummer.
Let me explain. My dear man and I are going to have a baby sometime in May, and thusly, we and our 3 pets have outgrown our humble abode. The doula I am working with (basically a wise and birth-centric woman I have hired to guide me through this crazy undertaking) recently asked why us pregnant ladies always want to move. I guess it seemed like a good idea at the time, and it is really hard to imagine anything going wrong with the then perfect plan when one is viewing it through the haze of hormones and rose-tint that everything has at the outset of creating life. Naturally, we would find the dream house promptly after we sold our duplex, and have plenty of time for this infernal nesting instinct I am developing to transform an empty room into infant paradise! Alas, though we found not one but two dreamy houses, they both failed their inspections. In fact, one of them failed so spectacularly that it deserves it's own entry. We did find a third house, and like Goldy Locks famously said, it was just right. Almost. Except that we can't move in until mid June. Therefore my parents are rescuing us and have generously invited us to stay with them a la Gloria and Meat head.
I find myself procrastinating about packing up the house, and this brings me to the second reason I am writing today; my skin. My poor skin has borne the brunt of my stresses and anxieties both about moving and about pregnancy. I have tried to be nice to it, but I think all the negative comments have, er, gotten under it? I have pimples like a love-sick adolescent and stretch-marks have gone streaking across my bulging belly but I have to give credit where it's due. My skin is a champ! When this is all behind me and I have moved house and gotten the tenant out of my womb, my skin will humbly creep back to it's former proportions, and it's marks will fade into the background. John Lithgow says it best in his kid's song You Gotta Have Skin: "Skin's the thing that if you got it outside it helps keep your insides in". Mine is doing a great job.
That's all for me today. Have excellent Mondays, it sets the tone for the week.
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