May has been a long month. Between potty training and a lack of school work to keep me busy, I'm spent many sore hours waiting out my days for the month to end. June comes with promise though. Promise of a new house, new baby, new trials, and my 24th birthday. I feel like I'm staring down tomorrow with anticipation, dread, and utter excitement. My nesting instinct (sorta) kicked in today, but due to the sheer exhaustion and soreness inspired by my watermelon belly, my attempts at organization have led me to spread chaos wherever I go while throwing away things I probably shouldn't. Heck, I'm ready to throw it all away and start over. There are so many things I packed away when I got married that I thought would prove useful and sentimental that even survived the move to our current apartment almost three years ago. Now I'm glaring at a toy mouse, hamster eraser, and a Pocahontas cassette tape (just to name a few miscellaneous items) wondering what possessed me to pack these around for so many years. I didn't even remember I had them! Out they go.
I'm also fighting the urge to discard the majority of Andrea's toys as I'm sick of picking them up/tripping on them. Because of the pain I've been experiencing in my hips and lower back, bending over has become rather cumbersome and I admit to staring down an object cast carelessly on the carpet for days before gathering up the strength to actually pick it up. Yes, I blame it on pain, but there is another factor that comes into play. Grunting.
Why don't books and websites mention this rather embarrassing manifestation of maternity? As I shift and move throughout the day, my uterus presses on my diaphragm and out of my mouth emerges some rather strange noises. It very much reminds me of when Pinocchio is turning into a donkey and heehaws sporadically. I may or may not have even woken myself up in the middle of the night by a hefty grunt as my body rolled from one side to the other. You can imagine the noises that tear from my throat as I attempt to tidy the living room. Andrea, the ever-enthusiastic helper than she is, has started to imitate me. She spots a block placed precariously on the rug and begins a series of contorted moans as she bends slowly to retrieve the yellow square. She stands up quickly, her mouth spreading into a wide grin, and runs to the bucket that houses blocks. She proceeds to toss in the toy with another token "ugh!" When she's had her fill of grunt cleaning, she climbs onto the couch and rather matter-of-factually states, "My hips hurt. I just sit here for a little bit." I join her because, well, I'm out of breath, a little embarrassed, and my hips think that couch looks mighty comfy too. She looks up at me with those deceptively-innocent blue eyes before scanning the half-picked up living room with pride.
Sigh. The girl is too adorable. What am I going to do when a second pair of eyes looks up at me with that same honesty and purity? I fear the heat of June and my boy's baby blues will have me completely melted before July.