Mama Brain

Hi.

Consider yourself warned: totally scatterbrained, boring mom-to-be letter headed your way.

My pregnancy app now tells me that we are in single digits, as far as weeks left to go until Baby J arrives.  Single.  Digits.  Every Wednesday I get increasingly curious about the next day's size update.
Tomorrow starts week thirty-one for us.  That is over three-fourths of the way done (duh, Aimee), assuming our good and merciful Lord allows us to meet our munchkin on or before our due date.  (Please, please, pleeease don't make it longer than forty weeks!)

Not that I'm trying to rush time or anything.  I'm still a little freaked out that we will have a tiny human to look out for in approximately sixty days.  (Most of the time it still seems like a mysterious alien is moving around inside of me.  Every once in awhile it hits me hard that it's actually a small person with chubby little hands and a button nose.)  My belly is just a little freaked out about how much growing it still has to do during those two months.

Our crib is still propped up against the wall in five separate pieces, not counting all the screws and bolts and such.  I'm thinking it's a good thing he/she won't be going straight to the crib in June.

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A billion.  That's how many stroller options there seem to be.

Zero.  That's how many clues I have when it comes to choosing one.  Jered and I took a peek at the them while we were in Target last night.  "You should do some research," he said.  But I haaaaave.  And what I have found is if you get one that is light enough and sleek enough to fit nicely in your car trunk, it is difficult to maneuver.  If you find one that is easy to maneuver and turns on a dime, then it is too bulky and takes up the whole trunk.

Now I'm beginning to doubt my first instinct to get a jogging stroller because they seem to be the main culprits when it comes to trunk hogs.  Not to mention my doubts about my agility and ability to jog with a stroller without inflicting injury on either of us.  Maybe it would be better to have Jered keep J for me while I get back into the running game.

Aaaand I want a stroller-car seat combo, but am having a heck of a time knowing which brand to go with.  In the words of The Beatles:  "Help, I need somebody.  Help, not just anybody.  Help, you know I need someone, heeeeeeelp!"

I've probably pinned one hundred little girl outfits, and two little boy outfits.  I can't help it; they are just so much cuter!  However, I am dying over this little Man Cub shirt.  If J is a boy, I will be on the hunt for one.

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My mom and Katie are going to be visiting in less than two weeks, and I'm beyond excited to have them around to help me get some things situated at the apartment.  I'm hoping to get the nursery in usable condition at least, and perhaps prepare some freezer dinners for post-baby life.  

J's movements continue to change and increase in number.  They went from being little jabs, to what I can best describe as the feeling of a big worm moving under my skin, to great big stretches now, with much more pressure than before.  He/she seems to be stretching non-stop these days.  I can almost always locate a body part now.

Oh, and according to Jered, J is a girl.  (He changes his mind about every week on the dot.)

And possibly thee most important of all my tedious updates: every time I see Jered with a baby, I go a little weak in the knees.  I see him play with our nieces a couple times a week, and this weekend I watched him love on Brandon and Janelle's baby, and I each time I feel like the heart shaped beams are going to shoot out of my eyes- Care Bear style.

I suppose I've shared more of my thoughts than you ever wished to be privy to.  Maybe next time I'll be more focused.  Probably not.  Pregnancy brain is real, I tell you!

Talk to you later.

Aim