Hot Fun in the Summertime?

Since the beginning of last May, I have pretty much been a hormonally-challenged, sleep-deprived lunatic. It's quite possible that I was all of those things before May, but it was in the month of May (I can say that with all certainty) that I was fully in the throes of pregnancy, packing for a move (thank god just a local one), and a hot and sweaty spring that turned into an even hotter and sweatier summer.

For the record, I don't recommend packing or moving whilst hugely pregnant and chasing a super inquisitive (and cute!) toddler around. And did I mention how I was also in the thick of fine-tuning my active toddler radar? My eldest child was content staying on one place as a toddler. My middle child (said active toddler) is on the move.

Fast-forward to May 31st--our moving day--which was really just a heinously disorganized, frenetic mess that I just want to banish from my memory stores. So, then, let's skip right to June 1st; we were in our new, bigger digs and trying to whip 3 bedrooms, a kitchen, 2 bathrooms, and a living room into shape before our daughter was born. No easy task when your stomach is the size of a keg barrel, your exhaustion level is dangerously nearing "comatose," your active toddler decides to really start walking all over the place, and your 'tween child's hormonal fluctuations are having daily jousts with your own.

As the summer inched by (and it was *insert expletive* hot, let me tell you), I grew increasingly huge and miserable, sick of being pregnant and sick of unpacking. Some days were so wretchedly exhausting that I would just cry. Seriously. And the wallop of heat and pregnancy made me insanely tired, to the point where I never felt rested. Ever. I'm not sure what I did in any of my past lives, but I was undeniably in the 9th circle of hell.

I got my long-awaited reprieve on Saturday, July 24th--the day our daughter was born. She blessed me (who am I kidding, us, 'cause I'm quite certain my husband was ready to have me committed) by arriving at exactly 39 weeks, 5 days before my scheduled c-section. I had said to my husband that very morning, "Wouldn't it be cool if she came today on the 24th, since Kai was born on the 23rd day and Trevor was born on the 25th day?" Apparently she thought it would be cool, too. I started contracting regularly at about 4:30 pm, and she was born at 11:13 pm. Chloe and I spent 4 days in the hospital, coming home on a Wednesday to an as-of-yet unpacked home and a toddler who was clearly pissed off at me for leaving for 4 days.

It took a while for all of us to become acclimated to our newly expanded family unit. For the longest time (i.e. until about 2 months ago), Kai pretty much ignored Chloe's presence, except to steal her binkys or make oft-botched attempts of sticking his index finger in her eyeballs. He still steals her binkys, but now he kindly puts them back from whence they came. And when she routinely screams in protest of an unwanted car ride or being strapped into any one of her lock-down devices, Kai giggles. Sometimes he just stares at her. So, I think we're finally settling in as a family of five in what is now a not-so-new home (okay, it's really an apartment, though labeled a condo; but we all know that condos are really just apartments that you may or may not own).

Our "condo" was finally unpacked in October. In a PMS-fueled frenzy, I unpacked the last of our boxes one Saturday afternoon and freed myself of the constant gnawing of Unfinished Business. The five boxes that sat on our dresser from June to October were a proverbial thorn in my side, mocking me each time I tried to relax--such a dirty word--in what little time I actually have to do such a thing.

Now it's January and I've been waiting out rapid-fire (with no end in sight) snowstorms with my cubs. My husband and oldest child venture out into the world every day to go to work and middle school, respectively, while I hang out with the little ones, fantasizing about seeing pavement again. (My alternate fantasy, particularly when both babies are disharmoniously dueting, is to laze on a chaise lounge in Hawaii, a bowl of fresh pineapple to my left, mountains off in the distance, listening to the rhythmic lull of warm ocean water ebbing and flowing.)

And just when I was getting to the good parts, an icy draft at my feet reminds me of this evening's temperature in Massachusetts: It says negative 1 degree Fahrenheit, in case you're having trouble seeing it. So, with a cold snap back to reality, I will end with this thought (another of the Unfinished Business variety): I seem to have forgotten about a dozen or so photos and pieces of art that are collecting dust in their positions against my bedroom wall. There are also several closet "issues" that need to be, ahem, straightened out. It will be with great satisfaction and pride that my next (or near future) blog will include how I really finished all our unpacking, organizing, and decorating by springtime. I hope.

It was a long 2010, at any rate. We're settled now, artwork and closets aside, and we're a hectic family of five. My next long-term goal is to find a way to get to Hawaii before I reach my mid-40s. That gives me five years.

Future blog topic: How I just heard the news that only 1 space after closing punctuation is acceptable and how I am too rebellious and habitual to not use two spaces.