I am amazed at how God blessed the whole unpacking ordeal. I think I was expecting it to drag on for months, but in reality it’s virtually completed now, after just over a week. I definitely put my nesting instincts to work for me! Wednesday evening my spirits were high. The plague of illness that had afflicted David most severely as well as Chalice and me had finally subsided and the house was looking like a home. I was excited to actually feel like the baby could come. Then boredom, impatience, and HOTNESS struck and this pregnant chick was ready to put nesting aside and think about the baby for real. The only problem is that baby limbo can last for not days but weeks. I find myself speculating and second guessing all the possibilities of when and why and how much false labor must occur before baby C #3 will come. The most sophisticated doctors cannot predict when a baby will actually decide to make an appearance. I grew weary of phone calls only from solicitors and mail consisting only of bills and an inbox comprised merely of updates as to who at church needed a replacement. Checking the inside thermostat was an interesting hobby as I watched it rise from 80 to 85 over the course of the afternoon. By the time David had arrived home my grumpiness had reached full bloom and I felt like I was unfit company for anyone. A sympathetic husband, chocolate chip cookies and friends perked up the evening until it was at last bedtime. Otherwise, I’m nearly certain that the refrain from a favorite childhood story would be true for me….”Could this go on all day and night? It could you know and it just might.”

This morning commenced with the happy clatter of painters sanding away at the messy exterior of our house. I abridged my devotions again due to the increasingly agitated noises of my children pleading to be released from their room. Then even breakfast proved unsuccessful. I couldn’t get my children to wear bibs and decided without bibs they would not eat. We have a lovely neighborhood for walking, but one can hardly roam the streets for hours on end without some decent destination or purpose. I called up a friend and received an ambiguous answer about arranging a rendezvous.

I decided not to let plans with other people stand in the way of rescuing my day. I piled my children in the car and headed due west, with miniature dump trucks, bananas, and sunscreen in tow. We arrived at the beach and I piled my children into our snazzy lime-green stroller. I enjoyed a leisurely phone conversation with a friend back east while I pushed the kids along the boardwalk. Eventually we found a pleasant patch of sand from which we could watch the waves dance and I could build small sand castles for the express purpose of being smashed by happy children. I thoroughly enjoyed watching my kids take such delight in the simple treasures of creation. Observing the vast ocean and bountiful beach, my stomach was almost dainty by comparison. Plus I had adorable blue toenails–professionally adorned as a Mother’s Day treat. Imagine the demise of a perfectly good respite, wrecked by messy chipping nails! As it was, our morning was glorious. It was only when my squashed bladder complained bitterly that I reluctantly loaded my two little sandcrabs back into the trendy and useful stroller to return home for a late lunch and naps.