So apparently I'm pregnant. Every day this week I have obsessively cleaned or organized something random. Today was the pantry, but only because Eli was grounded on his bed so I couldn't clean out his closet like I'd been dreaming of on the drive home. If I don't unpack, reorganize, and repack all of our hand-me-downs this week I'm not sure I'll be able to function. I have a cart full of "essentials" just waiting for me to pull the trigger on Amazon. And tonight when I went to make my stupid-diet-mandated evening snack (which is by far the best thing I eat all day) of a graham cracker with peanut butter and a kiddie cup of milk, and I found that we were out of peanut butter, an actual tear dripped down my cheek. Shit you not. I cried because we were out of peanut butter.
And I just realized that this baby, if my doctor gets her way and we schedule the c-section for 39 weeks, will be here in 8 FREAKING WEEKS. OMG.