Well, I told B finally how I was feeling, and while the man's motives are pure, he really needs a kick in the pants as far as his actions. It seems that most of my stress has been related to this being such a busy week. B's worked 5-18 hour days in a row, and has finally gotten a decent amount of sleep, and is wonderful to be around again. He's really trying, and I appreciate it.
My life this evening has basically looked like this: ::::::::::::nest nest nest nest nest nest nest nest nest nest nest nest::::::::::::::::::
I cleaned the nursery. I got the blinds down (I think I'll list them on eBay...I hate them), I wiped down and sanded the window sills, and am just waiting for B to get the half-roller up here so I can do the real prep for painting. I didn't nest at all with N. But here I am, 34 weeks (tomorrow) pregnant with my second child, big as a house (thanks to the extra 50lbs I'm carrying), and totally not comfortable sitting, standing, or walking, and I'm racing to finish decorating the nursery I started when pregnant and not nesting with my first. Somebody explain me to myself.
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