{ Hard }

I don't want to admit it, but this season is hard and I just really want it to be over.

I'm always tired. If I nap when Lainie does, the amount of "stuff" I accomplish in a day {already not much} becomes infinitesimally small...and besides being tired, I feel like I'm drowning in little projects that either a} take sooooo long to do if attempted when Lainie's awake, or b} require Mike's help. I'm stuck between getting more sleep and getting less done--which is ironic because I'd probably have more energy--or being productive while Lainie naps, yet exhausted and/or comatose by midafternoon.

I know that in a few weeks I won't even remember most of the things that are driving me to tears on a daily basis now. Yet feeling like I am treading water with a growing unfinished project list is.driving.me.insane. I know it's the pregnancy hormones, I know if I weren't on the brink of the third trimester and parenting a toddler full-time I wouldn't feel so overwhelmed. Honestly I could get most of this done in one or two days without those two limitations. Instead it's 9:45pm and I am blogging because I DID take a nap today, and now I'm hysterical because it's too late to break out the paint and fix all those dings in the wall from when we moved in. And you know, that must happen before Jellybean is born. Preferably before I wake up tomorrow morning and face yet another day with dinged up walls.

Is there any way we can possibly be really moved in, really settled, before this baby is born? Is that baseline I crave actually attainable? The one where all the windows that actually need window coverings have them, and all the safety latches are installed, and the furniture is where we want it, and all my jewelry isn't piled in a heap on top of our dresser? Is Lainie ever going to sleep through the night again? Pardon a little mommy rant: She has gone from sleeping 12-13 hours every night before we moved, to waking up about three times per night...every night...she's only slept through the night twice in almost two months. I did not at all expect this for my last few months before having a newborn...and it is so, so frustrating. I don't know how to help her. I don't know why she wakes so often--we've lived here for almost two months, so I don't think it's the transition/newness/change anymore. *deep, deep sigh*

I would like to close {well actually I wouldn't, I have a lot more to say on this subject but I have publicly whined more than enough for one night} by saying that this isn't all hormonal pregnant lady craziness, some of my urgency IS warranted. I recently discovered that the gorgeous blinds we got for our bedroom, which we both just love, are totally see-through when it's dark outside and lights are on inside. Like, if the neighbors happen to be in their backyard at night and a light is on in our bedroom, they can see EVERYTHING. Because there isn't a fence or anything between us and the neighbors on that end of the house. Now that makes me slightly freaked out. {Actually it makes me WAY more than slightly freaked out, but I am trying to remain calm and not hyperventilate right now as I think about it.} So I went and bought a curtain rod pronto, even though we were going to wait because curtain rods aren't cheap and our old bedroom curtains are not long or wide enough for the big bay window in our bedroom. Nonetheless I got this rod and I am determined to hang up our too-short-too-narrow curtains and cover that window, but this requires a certain amount of physical maneuvering that is difficult at this point in the pregnancy, and the use of power tools that I haven't used before, and have I mentioned that this is the kind of project that would be foolish to undertake while Lainie is underfoot? So I guess I'm going to bed AGAIN with naked windows. Someday...

For your viewing pleasure...because I took a picture earlier today while Lainie and I were making the bed and it was pretty outside...here is our bedroom window with those nefarious blinds.

It looks innocent enough, but there is quite a busy street behind that fence, and only about ten feet separates this end of our house from our neighbors' house. Really not the sort of environment for naked windows. I know that Mike will have time to put up the curtain rod very soon, and about three seconds after that I won't even remember how long I lived in this tortured state, but right now I'm here. Trying to work up the courage to go to bed. Goodnight.

{ Taking a Breath }

We've been in our new house--this is the ninth day, I think?--and I am just now sitting on the couch {still un-slipcovered because a. Mike just found the second half of the slipcover in a box in his office last night, and b. Lainie is still terrified of the vacuum but I MUST VACUUM THE COUCH BEFORE I PUT THE SLIPCOVER ON, and I can't bring myself to vacuum during a nap and possibly wake her--do you see my predicament?!} with my feet on the coffee table {much too small for our new living room, but at least Mike put felt pads on the feet to protect the newly refinished hardwood floors} and feeling like maybe...just maybe...we will someday get this chaos under control. We've never moved an entire household before. I can hear some of you guffawing: How can they possibly count an 842 square foot condo as a legitimate "household"? That's 1/3 the size of many family homes these days! Nonetheless, when we got married 4+ years ago, each of us literally had a bedroom's worth of possessions, nothing more. Well, I also had a couch that a roommate gave me. But seriously. Four years + a toddler = way more stuff to sort through, pack, unpack, and put away. I don't even know how it's mostly done already, with all the Lainie-entertaining and feeding and we-must-go-to-a-park-NOW-or-I-will-lose-my-mind moments I've had.

But. Here we are. Lainie is napping, and I probably should be too. I've been more exhausted than I can even tell you, staying up way too late unpacking and then getting up at 7:00 {or 6:45, depending on the day} with my cuddly little alarm clock and furiously cleaning and organizing during her naps. It's not the greatest life plan for 22 weeks pregnant, I'll tell you that!

Please tell me I'm not the only OCD person who goes around wiping grime {perhaps imaginary--I am pregnant} off all the doors and light switches after moving. Or that I'm not the only person who has lived in a previously vacant house for over a week, with large swathes of multi-colored mold growing in both toilets, before cleaning the bathrooms. Or that we won't get a foot fungus from a week of showering in a bathtub whose state of cleanliness prior to yesterday is unknown.

Have I mentioned that there are no overhead lights in the living room, and for the life of me I cannot find the harp for our main lamp?! There's the lamp base, the lightbulb, the shade...and no harp. At this point I think there is only one box in our entire house that hasn't been opened on a quest for that harp, and I am about to go batty with that one bare lightbulb illuminating the living room. Oh, and all our lightbulbs have apparently decided to die--I keep frantically switching bulbs from less-important to more-important lamps, chiding myself for letting our stash run out and yet forgetting to buy more when I'm at the store.

Have I also mentioned how much I love my new washer and dryer? And my new fridge, which inconveniently doesn't fit in the kitchen {hint: don't let a pregnant woman measure the dimensions of the spot for a fridge!}. Or how much I want to join Lainie in Zzzzz-land.

That's her I hear waking up, so I've got to run for now. xo

{ Five Minute Friday: Mercy }

The thing about mercy is--I often don't know what it looks like. I know what I think it should be.

Certainly not closing on "our" house two days after we're supposed to move.

Certainly not staying at the house of dear friends {who are out of town and have offered their home to us} if we actually don't have a house to move into when we need to move out of our condo.

Certainly not emptying and cleaning our little nest for the renters who are moving in next week, while not knowing where we will live.

Yet I know all these things are mercies.

I don't know why things are appear to be working out so that our timing is just off enough that we may be semi-homeless for a few days. I don't know why it's taken so long for all this real estate/financing stuff to happen, why there have been unexpected curveballs thrown our way at the last minute and why we are questioning Should we even buy this house???

I do know that Jesus knows why all these things have happened and are happening. He alone sees all our lives, the beautiful tapestry that is all our stories being woven together, one day at a time. By His mercy, I am resting in His mercy that undergirds all the unknowns and seeming wrenches that have been thrown in our path. I know that this all works together for His glory and our good.

It's just that our good--and His glory--is turning out to look different than I expected. And that's okay, because I don't know the whole story. Only He can see how everything--everything--unfolds.

{ What I Think About Food, by Lainie Rae }

Mommy and Daddy eat lots of amazing things that I really, really want to eat, too. For example, barbeque sauce!! Even the bottle looks delicious! But they won't let me touch it. Same goes for lots of other yummy-looking things: pens, books, vaseline, chicken nuggets...

 

 

If I'm in the mood for a light snack, tags and straps are the best. I love my dolly's tag. I chew on it for hours. Same with my Bumbo straps...delish! I think Mommy knows how tasty straps are, because she puts me in my Bumbo every day now. It's gonna make me fat. LOL.

 

 

One day Mommy put me in my high chair, which incidentally is the most uncomfortable place in the world, and put a banana on my tray. I checked it out very carefully. When I chewed on it some of it broke off in my mouth and--oops!--I swallowed it. That was unpleasant. Conclusion: Kinda sticky and overall gross.

 

The next day Mommy put me in the high chair again and gave me something she called "sweet potatoes." They are awful. Super slimy, and they get all over! Me, the high chair, that crinkly bib...I tried and tried to get it off my hands, but sweet potatoes just stick to anything! I got kinda upset. It was really gross to have sticky slimy stuff all over me. By the way, I wonder why they are called "sweet" potatoes...Mommy calls me sweet all the time, and I didn't see anything about those potatoes that seemed like what I thought "sweet" meant. Hmmmmmm...

 

The next day, Mommy put bell peppers on my tray. They are horrible little stick-y things...cold, too.

 

There was more: avocados {which are as scary as sweet potatoes, but slimier! Can you believe it?!}, steamed broccoli, pears, and honeydew. Gross gross gross!

 

And then one time, guess what?? Mommy put some slimy stuff on a spoon and tried to put it in my mouth! No way Jose!! She kept telling me it was tasty, but how would she know? She wasn't eating it! I think she thought I'd be distracted from the soupy stuff because it was on a little pink spoon, but I wasn't. I'm very observant.

 

Recently there has been a pleasant development: the sippy cup. I loves it. It has weird, clear milk inside, but I don't mind because I can suck it and hold it and chew on it!

 

 

Luckily for me, regardless of the crazy stuff Mommy puts on my tray, I can almost always find a strap to chew on. Sometimes it's all that keeps me going in the face of such constant adversity.

 

 

I think Mommy is getting tired of having to clean me and my clothes and my chairs so much, because she hasn't given me yucky-squishy-slimy toys for a few days. It's just me, my toys, my straps, and that sippy cup. Yay!

 

{Edit from Mommy: While Baby Girl's disgust at edible toys is simultaneously amusing and a little discouraging, she's still getting all the nutrition she needs from nursing, as evidenced by her continual chunking up. Her pediatrician says some babies take longer to get used to the idea of eating and the new tastes and textures involved, so we're going to wait a week or two and give it another shot.}

{ Public Service Announcement }

In case you were wondering, alcohol-free wine tastes like

 

weird grape juice.

 

 

Since the alcohol has been removed, I guess that's actually what it is.

{ Just a small leak }

At this very moment, on a blustery January night in Washington state, it is approximately 74 degrees in our home. Why, you ask? Because we're drying out a wall, I say.

Last week's snow was fantastic. I loved every minute of it--every single minute. I was so sad on Friday, when rain began pouring down on top of all that snow. I don't think there is a sadder way for snow to "die" than to be rained to death. It's just sad and ugly. Snow should melt, of its own accord, into springtime creeks and crocuses. It shouldn't be pelted into mush by a rainstorm.

On Friday night, I was scurrying about getting ready for Mike to pick me up for our Bible study group's happy hour at a local eatery. I pulled the drapes shut over the sliding glass door in the living room, and gasped. One curtain was halfway soaked, all the way to the floor. I pulled it away from the wall, and saw

a very large bubble beneath the paint.

I prodded it. Soft. Water.

I looked up.

See that big bubble on the ceiling?

And another one high up on the wall?

And all the little bubbles further down the wall?

*shudder*

And how the lower curtain rod is falling over, because the drywall it was formerly attached to is now the consistency of oatmeal?

Just look at that sucker!

We did go to happy hour {don't worry, I had iced tea}, though I was somewhat alarmed and preoccupied by my discovery {and certainly wished for something stronger than iced tea!}. When we got home, we took a bunch of photos, drained nasty water out of that bottom pocket, and Mike emailed the homeowners' association. The next day, a guy came out to assess the damage, and his little moisture meter found this wall to be 42% moisture. Holy smokes! It appears the cause is that snow got under the flashing {whatever that is}, melted very quickly, and made a leak {at least that's the gist of it}. And praise the Lord, this falls under the responsibility of the homeowners' association, not us personally!

So this week I'm kind of a vagabond. Because there might be toxic mold in the walls, and because they'll be bleaching/Kilzing/repainting the damaged areas, it's not really safe for me and Peanut to be at home. Unfortunately the repairs will take a few days--depending on how long it takes to dry out the wall--so Mike is working from home while this gets taken care of. He is a saint. And I get to live at the mall! Woohoo! It's like being ordered by the doctor to shop, right? 

Just kidding. {Seriously, Honey, I'm kidding!}

I'm planning to go to my womens' group tomorrow morning, followed by a trip to TJ Maxx and maybe Target. I am perfectly happy to curl up with a book at a coffee shop, and if Peanut needs a nap, I can go to Mike's parents' house...which is also where we'll be sleeping tomorrow night if our place is still all fume-y.

So this is what home looks like tonight:

A halogen lamp drying the damaged areas + home thermostat set at 73 degrees. {For once, even I think it's nice and toasty in here!} Say a prayer for us that this is resolved quickly, will you? I'll keep you posted.