1. I'm officially tired of moving. Bah! Seriously, don't want to do this again any time soon. Or ever would be fine too. I guess if I had to, I could, but I really don't see how military families do it. If I was moving into this house right now and knew that in two to three years I'd be moving out again, I'd be crying as I unpacked the boxes. I'm sure it would be easier if I wasn't 33 weeks pregnant, but still. Even if I was non-prego, totally healthy, best shape of my life, I wouldn't want to do this every three years. On the up side, it is very satisfying to look around the house and see what all we've accomplished in one week. Really, it's a totally livable house from the fully stocked kitchen to the up-and-running computer/internet/printer/etc. The biggest thing missing right now is just details. There's still stacks of decor needing homes, empty walls with pictures propped on the floor beneath them, and let's just not discuss the garage right now. It's already too hot out for me to want to even mess with it after around 9:30am. But for the most part, I'm totally exhausted, totally glad it's nearly over, and totally satisfied with how it's all turned out. Can't wait to show pictures when I'm satisfied with how everything looks! Moving on.
2. In the midst of all the un-packing boxes and finding places for everything, I had a 32 week appointment for the little guy this week. Sonogram and all. And wouldn't you know it, this little porker already weighs four pounds and eight ounces! Doesn't sound like much, I know. But that puts him in the 58th percentile. Also doesn't sound like anything to brag about. But at this stage with both Kolbe and Reagan they were dropping drastically in size. Not losing weight, just not gaining weight either. I want to say that it was around right now with Reagan that he had dropped all the way to the 14th percentile and they started giving me celestone shots to help him out "just in case" he was born early like Kolbe. And of course, he was. Go figure that the most outrageous, stressful, and physically taxing of my pregnancies would produce the most gestationally normal baby thus far. I'm trying not to get too optimistic that I could make it past 36 weeks, but with the baby doing so well, maybe there's hope. Note to self, though: the baby and the mama are two totally different people. He may be doing really well. And may even break six pounds, even at 36 weeks. But I've always been the problem. Not the baby. As for me, so far my blood pressure is staying in the acceptable range. The only real problem is that my swollen ankles have turned into swelling up the whole leg. And the bad kind. Where when you press down on it, the indentation is still there more than ten seconds later. Boo. (and oh-so-attractive in summertime shorts!) We'll see. I doubt being on my feet non-stop over the past week has helped whatsoever. Time to start taking it easy, laying off of the moving-in overload, and just relaxing and get ready to be Mama all over again. Prayers for the baby and me, por favor! Getting close to crunch time!
3. Can I just complain for two seconds about the ridiculous weather here in The Woodlands? Ugh! My parents have lived here for years, so I knew what I was getting myself into. But this has been absurd so far. Highs in the mid to high nineties, lows around, oh, seventy-eight. And it's May. Everyone keeps telling me that this is normally the rainy season here. Warm and humid, but frequent weekly rain showers and such. Not so much. It has rained once since we got here. One time! Maybe we brought Lubbock with us or something. Though we certainly didn't send the humidity up there in exchange for the drought. The humidity has got to be like eighty percent. So remarkably, even though it never rains, most vegetation still looks green. Not even kidding when I say that all outdoor activity (at least for me) halts by about 10am. Though we did go watch portions of the Ironman race that was held here in The Woodlands this past weekend. Quite fascinating. I could never. Never! Heck, I was sweating more than some of the finish line crossers as I stood aimlessly behind a barricade! Pitiful. I know.
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