But I’ve been laid up.
Apparently lifting heavy boxes, painting twelve hours per day, stretching unfamiliar muscles while standing on ladders, forgetting to eat right and failing to drink enough water are major no-no’s for expectant mamas, because I landed myself in the hospital on Sunday with strained back and stomach muscles (and other “injuries” that I’d rather not disclose to cyberspace—sorry). So each night since we’ve moved in, Jeff has come home to find me on the couch, clutching a bottle of Tylenol (and other antibiotics that will remain nameless) for dear life, tears of frustration in my eyes, with Freddie by my side. The tears of frustration aren’t only from back pain but also from the pain of helplessly watching these boxes remain unpacked and clutter our new home. (Jeff has been working so hard, don’t get me wrong, but there’s only so much he can do when I’m wailing and whining for him to stay next to me on the couch.)
The lesson I learned? Is don’t overdo it! Type A personality or not, pregnant or not, patience is key when you've got a big job to do. I also learned that I’m so, so lucky to have such amazing family and friends to help. A gigantic thanks to everyone who worked so hard to paint those lofty ceilings and move that heavy furniture!
(Oh, you’re wondering about that photo of the broken stove? That’s our stove. Jeff stood on it and broke it while he was painting. So we have to fork over the cash for a new one.)
(We’re kissing our dreams of hardwood floors goodbye!)