Monday, July 26, 2010
It took everything that I had in me, today, to come out of hiding. I've spent most of my day either laying in bed, or laying on the couch- both of which have become my own personal drool pads. I went to bed last night with a scratchy throat, and within 2 or 3 hours, it felt like I was swallowing razorblades. I've been licking tylenol like ice cream, and even called my doctor to beg for a z-pak (because I know that no matter where I go- walk in clinic, ER, base hospital- thats all they'd be able to give me), but because I didn't have a fever (4 tylenol at a time had better rid me of that, at the least), they wouldn't prescribe it to me.
So here I sit, both babies in bed (Christopher tucked them in and read them stories while he was home on his lunch/dinner break- God Bless that beautiful man), a half a box of tissue (it was full this morning, but, my nose decided to join in on the party) beside me, I'm about to go for round 3 of 4 of four more tylenol to numb the face exploding pain, and... ok I seriously just forgot what I was going to type.
Long story short- ...blah.
Blah about sums it up.
Even thought I feel like I've been hit by a pollen truck, or maybe bitten by a strep throat snake- I have to show y'all what we've been up to.
Christopher took leave most of last week, so that he could help me dig into my nest. Everywhere I look, all I see is dirt. I've been complaining nearly non stop about all of the things that make me want to get down on my hands and knees and start scrubbing. I've been going on and on about everything that needs to get organized- I've been driving everyone, including myself, crazy. Well finally Christopher took a few days off from banging around on airplanes and their parts, to come home and help me move heavy furniture from one side of the house to the other.
One of the things that we finally accomplished, was putting together Bean's room.
Well, Beans corner, in our room.
None of my kids have ever had a "nursery". I'd like to look back on memories of painting bedroom walls pretty shades of blues and pinks, but the reality of being a military family is- we've moved 5 times since Eleanore was born, a nursery has never been in the cards for us. When we got pregnant with Evelyn, we were given the opportunity to move yet again, into a house down the street, a 4 bedroom, but... really, I'm sick of moving. So instead of moving all of our belongings into a house with an extra bedroom, we just moved all of Bean's things, into our bedroom. We'll gladly share our space with her. This is our home. We don't want to leave it just yet.
We'll change her on this changing table, the same one that both of her siblings used. And when we have pictures of her being held by all of her loved ones, we'll pin them up on her cherry print photo board (made by her Aunt Jessie).
All of her things are neatly stacked on the shelves below the pink fabric covered changing pad.
A basket full of teeny tiny newborn sized diapers.
A diaper that fits in the palm of my hand. Its hard to believe that Evelyn will be so small.
A basket full of pants. Pinks, stripes, polka dots. Pants that Eleanore wore, pants that Charlie wore, pants that have never been worn.
Hats, baby legs, socks, and little footies. That hat on top there, was sent to us by a friend all the way from Norway. The socks and booties belonged to Charlie. The leggings were $3 each on Etsy, I had to buy two pairs. And just today, in the mail came a box from a friend in Louisiana with more socks, lots and lots of socks- that we'll soon be adding to the basket.
Blankets to wrap her in. Some handmade, some gifted. All warm and comfortable.
I pushed all of my clothes in the closet to the side, just like I did when Charlie moved in, and we hung up all of Bean's dresses, onesies, and sleepers. Most handed down from Big Sister Eleanore, some sent to us from friends and family, some found at garage sales. All just waiting to be worn.
What should Miss Evelyn wear home from the hospital?
Maybe this? What do you think?
So. There you have it. The grand tour of Bean's little corner.
Only 14 days (until our scheduled c-section), and counting.
I get more and more anxious by the day.