Because hormones are like crack, only free!
So now that you've been properly prepped by the article in my previous post, you know that 1. this was instinctual, 2. I was powerless to stop it, and 3. suffice it to say I've already been properly chastised by both my mother and husband for the heavy furniture part. And it will all probably continue to get worse as January approaches!
I had no $$ to start removing wallpaper, painting walls, or buying furniture for the nursery. I had plenty of other house projects that needed attention - i.e. the dumping ground that is my craft room, but it's hot up there in the summer and this weekend was wretched humid. I could have vacuumed, dusted, or any of the other "daily" tasks I prefer to do semi-annually, but for some reason, I ABSOLUTELY HAD TO rearrange all of our bedroom furniture.
Remember, it's not my fault. I am but a slave to the hormones. But if we were in court, it would be noted that I carefully waited until AFTER my husband left to start throwing dressers and mattresses around. Several times. So yeah, I probably knew I shouldn't be exerting myself in such ways, but nothing hurt and I employed the few physics lessons I learned in Howie Shuckhart's class to rely on leverage and minimize drag, so all is well. And I actually really like the new arrangement! I was also happy to finally vacuum around the bed and under the dressers (it had been way too long, and apparently my dog sheds like...a dog. Seriously, I probably could have soaked up all of the BP oil had I swept and vacuumed this stuff up sooner. Oops).
As part of the swap I pulled in a smaller dresser from the "nursery" and moved my larger surface dresser over to be the changing table.
Then I decided to dig out my drill/screwdriver and take the brackets off the back of the dresser that formerly held a mirror we no longer use.
Since the tools were already out, I figured it was a good time to remove all of the switch plate covers in the nursery before we start stripping wallpaper and painting.
In the tool bin were a bunch of nails, including one that looked like it would work to fix the metal strip between our linoleum and wood floors when entering the kitchen, so I pounded that in while it was on my mind.
Then I laid down for a while, because damn it was hot out and other than this strange burst of energy I've basically been lethargic and weak for 3 months, so flopping on the bed has become my natural state. And while I was doing so, I looked up at the ceiling fan and decided to finally remove the light that had burnt out months ago and needed to be replaced. It's currently in a baggie with the strange lightbulb from the kitchen nook, the dial I broke off the vent fan in the kitchen, and a switch plate cover I need to match if I ever get to the hardware store.
Then I laid back down. To rest, and cool off, and relax.
And I got my first flutter!
Clearly the little baked potato was congratulating me on my hard work. Or possibly pissed at my efforts and their related contortions & straining (seriously, moving my 100 lb. pillow top mattress is like fighting with a ton of jello. No form, lots of bulk. It's a battle of wills).
Anyways, there was a flutter! It was a quick little 1-2-3 which I like to believe was either a right-left-right sparring move, or an uptempo version of the clap along to "We Will Rock You".
And I have felt nothing since. Sigh. Well, it's still early, and perfectly normal for the first few movements to be widely spaced and random. So "they" say. Clearly a BBQ chicken pizza was in order to celebrate.
Next day - energy burst subsided? Not quite.
Since it was the HOTTEST DAY OF THE YEAR, it seemed a good time to make a roast (?!?). So I invited my mom over to show me how it's done.
In preparation I washed the stove and put the burner rings in the dishwasher. The sun was shining in the windows...highlighting all of the crap on the floor. So I swept and vacuumed the kitchen, wiped down the microwave and all the counters, and scrubbed the sink.
I washed all of our organic produce, peeled and sliced carrots, onions, and potatoes, and flung it all in the oven. My first roast:
It was AMAZING! I even ate a carrot (I am NOT a veggie person) just for the tiny one's benefit. And we sat down at THE TABLE, which I had CLEARED OFF, rather than our usual routine of collapsing in front of the TV.
It was a surreal experience.
To balance out all of my domestic achievements, I was in clear need of some debauchery. Since pregnant ladies generally get all dis-included from such revelry, I compensated by catching up on True Blood, Being Human, and MadMen. While eating store bought chocolate brownies. Can't go setting the bar too high now, can we? :)