This last week made me feel old - more like a parent than a young mother.
I've had some amazing personal growth in areas I struggle with - letting go, being considerate of others feelings instead of gratifying my inner deamons with sarcasm, and I have to credit a lot of this to my husband. This man understands my need to be childish at times, and allows me to let loose my inner teenager without judgement.
I've enjoyed my "time off" of writing, and am ready to start again. I'll probably start typing furiously on my laptop this weekend when the hubby leaves for some field training.
The house has been recovered from my sister-in-law's visit last week. She's pretty tidy, but I have a hard time cleaning with other people in the house. To me, it's my thinking time, and I always feel a little oddly restrained when we have family staying with us.
I am 35 w 2 d preggers. I am absolutely certain I've got no more space for this little baby inside of me, and I am eager for her arrival. On the same hand, I am nervous as well. We have a routine with being parents to one child - and I wonder how our only child will adjust to being an older brother.