Having a blog is beneficial in so many ways. You can share your thoughts with others, meet other writers, discover different styles of writing, vent your frustrations, share your opinions and all done in the pretty font you like with the background of your choice.
Most of you know that my lack of posts lately has to do with my upcoming due date. I'm cleaning house, setting up the nursery, packing and re-packing my hospital bag, making weekly trips to my OB, dealing with last trimester queasiness, stocking my pantry and freezer and trying to squeeze in some last minute 'childless' activities with my husband and friends.
Of course, throughout all the hubbub and excitement there are also some very annoying and/or frustrating elements that have corrupted my day-to-day life, leaving me somewhat discouraged and helpless at the end of the day.
But today I remember that THIS is why I started blogging again. So I would have a place, all my own, to vent about these building frustrations.
The first and biggest problem weighing on my mind heavily is my house.
James and I are renting a country home on five acres, just outside of Clarksville. It's peaceful, quiet and far away from Fort Campbell and all its predictable military drama.
Four months ago, when we were first visiting the property, I fell in love. I loved the quaint little country house. I loved the space, the beautiful backyard, the element of true privacy, the sunny kitchen and the 'lived-in' appeal of an older home.
Four months later I have come to despise this house and all the qualities I once thought were charming.
The space and privacy have turned into isolation. The backyard has become more matinence then I realized it would. And the lived-in, older home appeal is gone. Leaving in its wake the presence of any and every living creepy crawly imaginable, finding its way into my kitchen, bathroom, bedroom etc.
There are wood roaches that never seem to die living in my kitchen. There are mice pooping in every drawer and carrying fleas. And there are wasps finding their way inside through the nooks and crannies in the windows.
We have used sprays, traps, bombs, foggers and called in terminators. The fuckers keep getting in!
I don't even like being home anymore. Even at the slightest hint of having to run an errand, I get excited and grab my purse. I would gladly run OTHER people's errands if they asked me to.
I feel itchy all the time, psychologically or for real, and I HATE going into my kitchen. It seems everytime I do I end up having to kill something with my shoe.
The real problem weighing on me is WHEN to move. It's almost November, the holiday season is upon us. Should we risk moving someplace cleaner during this time of year or wait until January or February?
Then again, do I really want to bring little Noah into a house full of unsanitary mice and fleas?
It's not like there aren't places we could move to. Our town is full of great rentals in nice neighborhoods, at affordable rental rates. It really just comes down to the question of WHEN?
The holidays mean a lot to me, especially since I'll have a little family of my own in just a matter of weeks. I want it to be a time that's special and memorable. Of course I want the Kodak picture! Pictures of new-Daddy & Mommy holding Noah in front of the Christmas tree, snuggling in at night to read The Story of Santa Claus, playing holiday music and enjoying Walker's Shortbread.
But would it be better to make those memories in a home that didn't strike a chord of disgust in my heart?
James and I have moved so much in the three years we've been married, that we consider ourselves professionals. We know how to pack, how to organize, how to get the best deals on moving trucks, where to find the sturdiest packing boxes for next to nothing and how to do it all in one week if necessary.
But here I am, 38 weeks pregnant, already dilating, excited for the birth of my son, nervous about the inevitable contractions, labor and pushing. I don't need another stressor right now.
Here comes another, 'But..'
I'm already stressed about bringing Noah home to this house! It freaks me out to think of fleas or any other kind of creepy crawly finding its way onto my precious newborn baby. I actually shiver at the thought.
And honestly, whenever I start to become anxious about his arrival and I just 'want him to be born already' I deliberately remind myself of this problem. It brings me back to reality and I find myself thinking, "What's a few more weeks, really?"
It might sound spoiled or pathetic or the worries of a first-time mother, but I can honestly say that even if I wasn't about to give birth, I would feel grossed out by living in this house and would want out just as badly.
I just don't know what I should do. Ideas, suggestions, advice...all are very welcome at this point.