And I'm guessing the Sears Repairman feels the same.
The girls and I visited Gi-gi on Wednesday and Thursday, and let's just say the bed did not like me at all. I can usually 'reset' most of my aches and pains overnight, sleeping in different positions and such, but I couldn't even move without hurting badly enough to wake up. Getting up to pee was excruciating.
I was happy to be back home last night, even if we did all have Wheaties for dinner (I know! Corn syrup! Ack!).
I collapsed into MY bed around 9:30, and aside from the multiple pee-breaks, I slept well. Organique awoke screeching at 6:30, so I changed her and loved her and put her back to bed, praying the bright sun shining around the blinds in their east-facing window wouldn't keep her awake, because I was SO not ready to be up yet. Aches and pains hadn't reached 'reset' stage, obviously.
I fell back asleep, and awoke at 8:15 when the phone rang. It was Hubby, and while I certainly didn't manage to answer it before the answering machine, I did crawl to the nearest phone and groggily call him back. Then I sat for a few minutes at the computer, catching up on some reading and emails from when we were gone and trying to blink awake.
I was still wearing my nightgown, head bandana (with hair flying out at all edges), droopy eyeliner (which I almost never wear anyway), and pillowcase-creases etched into my face when I observed a bright blue Sears Repair van enter the driveway.
"Oh no," I said. I was pretty sure all my Kenmores were functioning properly.
I hurried to my room and donned my fleece robe, grabbed Organique from her crib at the other end of the hall, and went downstairs after shrieking at my reflection in the mirror.
"Oh no," I said, asking God, why, why did the house numbers have to blow off the house 2 years ago? (I didn't ask myself why I hadn't acquired and affixed new ones)
Should I just not answer the door? Unlikely prospect, because Little Artist was up and around and would bound to the door or window as soon as the knock came.
Whether it was the pajama-clad baby in my arms, my own wicked appearance, or my long pause after I said, "hi...", he got the picture. Smooth, well-groomed character that he was.
"Thirteen-forty?" he asked.
I pointed to the "fancy neighbors" up the driveway. "Next house."
"I figured I had a 50/50 chance of getting it right," he said, as he backed away from the specter before him. I tried to laugh, and likely only scared him more with a mouthful of unbrushed teeth.
I wanted to say, "I was out of town! I'm ALWAYS dressed before I check email! I was extra-tired, see, and pregnant too! Please understand... Having kids doesn't make you all freaky, necessarily, you just caught me on the WORST POSSIBLE DAY!"
I really aspire to be an example of all that is good in motherhood, in raising children, in delighting in the blessings God has granted us. I want women to be inspired that having children isn't a terrible drudgery that is worthy to be escaped via daycare. I want to encourage others who are 'on the fence' about having 'just one more' that it will be something that they'll always be so glad they did. I want to encourage men that their wives don't have to become robe- and bandana-clad frumps after they have children.