Saturday

J says if I get Ella out of here he will clean like a banshee. Now, that is a great deal. We will do the groceries and perhaps the Hand in Hand Playground. Every day that we don't have the baby is like a tiny reprieve--more time to clean or organize something. This doesn't seem to take into consideration the level of destruction that one three year old can create in one day. Also, my project list is taking on a mental patient quality. I really want a new handle for the play stove that Ella and I refinished. Other grosser aspects of the domestic scene are just too much to even start. There are, however, stacks of little tiny diapers on the changing table and little bins of Dreft scented onsies, socks, and hats on the shelf above. I feel like I can't get much bigger. Baby parts are recognizable across my belly, and sleep is nearly impossible. Even E recognizes when I have the sausage toes. I had to go to the doctor's office yesterday to get my BP checked because it was high on wednesday. It was normal. For me "normal" is 100/60 and the other day it was 130/80. I think it was because E had broken out of the waiting room and was looking for Dr Roberts to tell him some knock knock jokes. John was following her, and I was afraid that he would see me on the scales and know how much this nine month pregnant wife of his weighs.