Twenty-Five Week Update: The Search for Hired Help & Finding my Pregnant Butt

the Spricket, from the orthopteran family Rhaphidophoridae

The sprickets are rising. Until this week, we had been living peacefully distinct lives: insects in the cellar, humans in the home. A combination spider and cricket, they are harmless but with the terrifying adaptation of jumping towards any perceived threat in an attempt to frighten it away. Awesome. Between toddler and active fetus, I do not need anything else jumping at me. It is enough to handle the fall stink bug invasion, who have grown faster and smarter from last year. The arduous journey from underground to living room has, thankfully, weakened the sprickets, and the scouts are arriving with missing limbs, or sometimes "resting" upside-down. W will bravely pick them up with bare hands. Nug, however, seems to be taking after me. In about five seconds flat, she can climb up to my neck in fear and clasp it like a koala bear, voice shaking, "I'm scared of the 'piders!"

the Jumping Toddler, from the tired family Fede-Mac

Luckily, help is on the way. I am (finally) recruiting a Mother's Helper: a house cleaner-babysitter-cook-bug remover-replicate of myself. It has occurred to me that less time remains in this pregnancy than more, and as the weeks tick by and my belly ticks out, less of all of the above is getting done. Even less of "me" is happening- my energy and centeredness chipped away by a bad head cold. This morning, for example, I lost my patience and, out of character, yelled at Nug. Thankfully she wasted no time in correcting my indiscretion and smacked me with this little life lesson:

"It is not nice to lell (yell). It is not nice. That is not polite to lell. No lelling. You don't lell at me, and I don't lell at you." 

Nug went on Photo Safari. Do I look impatient? 

It took her some time to roll it all out, having the effect of shaming me even more as I sat humbly in front of the judge. I apologized. Then I secretly helped myself to a piece of her Halloween candy (running the water while opening the wrapper makes for a good cover). This was not out of spite- although, for the record, I'm not above that in the coming years- but for the dopamine bath needed to lift myself out of Tired&Crappy-Mommy-Land.

So the prospect of domestic help is exciting, at a minimum to avoid emotional eating and gaining another thirty pounds. Yes, I am twenty-five weeks pregnant and have gained twenty-five pounds. Again. Despite my best intentions, my big ol' pregnant butt is back. And why can't I get any credit for the ten pounds that my new boobs must weigh?! The midwives aren't quite as jocular, however, suggesting Weight Watchers for pregnancy and delaying my gestational diabetes test to give myself "a little more time to get things under control." Funny that, I have to take the test between 26 and 28 weeks, which is two weeks after Halloween and into the week of Thanksgiving. Wish me luck. 

Beyond the insects, impatience, and extra chub, I am a happy, healthy, grateful mommy. Cookie, aka "Bunny Scat" per Nug's latest brainstorm, is kicking and growing. Nug is enthralled with baby sister talk and all things motherly. She was thrilled to realize that her "Big Baby" doll can wear the newborn clothes I pulled from the attic, and so is changing her as often as a newborn. W is doing extra duty where she can and encouraging me to reach out for support where she can't. And when I bump into a counter and remember that I'm even pregnant, I think about how crazy I am to meet this little person in three+ short months. And with Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, a hospital tour, biweekly midwife visits, preschool open houses, Nug's birthday, nursery preparation, labor preparation, and hiring a Mother's Helper, Cookie will be here before you can say Rhaphidophoridae.