Never default on rent owed to a woman in labour

Here's how I coped with the pain of labour:

I read a book.
I talked on the phone.
I watched half a movie.
I breathed through each contractions.
I evicted my tenants.

Never default on rent owed to a woman in labour, or you will find your lease agreement terminated at the earliest possible time.

Last night Man and I went back to my house, showing the place to potential new tenants. I've had trouble collecting the rent money from the current tenants every month, and I know my former neighbours are none to pleased with them either, as their kids have been terrorizing the neighbourhood (seriously - break and enter, thievery, spray-painted roads).

The showing last night was a little stressful, becuase my current tenants were at home, with their two yappy dogs and three surly kids. And those kids? Those kids keep untidy bedrooms. The whole house was untidy, though if you were being evicted I don't suppose you'd be inclined to clean up for the landlord, either. As we walked through discussing electricity costs, tenants' insurance and how many references I require, the oldest kid was sulking around after us. When we checked out the backyard, he came outside for a smoke. As we stood in the driveway discussing move-in dates, he hand a hankering for more nicotine... this time out the front. His younger brother took a more stealthy approach, hiding out in his bedroom with his window cracked open listening from there.

The couple who saw the place last night were friendly, and their kid, at 2 years old, is not likely to be breaking into the rec centre down the street. Promising. I've had many more calls on the place, and a few more lined up to see it in the next few days.

It was hard being back at the house - I bought it before Man, before Squeaky, and I had pictured many long hours in the garden, many mornings canoeing on the lake just beyond the back fence, and many barbeques and bonfires among friends. It is also an ideal house for our small family now, but it is just too far away from Man's work to make it a viable living arrangement at this time. Also, what did we spend all winter renovating for if not to live here in our wee small house?? (And I like our house, I really do, I just wish it was finished). I know houses are nothing more than four walls and a roof, and ideally a wood stove, but the associated memories and fantasies of the future can tug on the heartstrings as if they were living beings.

Belly bopping

37 weeks today. All the books tell me Baby Moves are supposed to slow down this last month, but my belly is really rocking out today. And HARD, too - Last week Baby was head-down (according to my obstetrician), but I am feeling all kinds of body parts all over my tummy, so it's hard to say. Nothing to be concerned about - just enough to keep me from my afternoon nap.

Man said he could feel the baby move in bed this morning - I was still asleep. Neither his hand nor baby's bopping woke me up! Yes! I'll take any sleep I can get, because between all the dreams and the trips to the toilet, I'm not convinced I sleep very much at all.

I'm very conscious that I should take it easy over these next few weeks. We moved all my furniture and belongings out of my house last week, and though I didn't do any of the heavy lifting (okay, much of the heave lifting) the constant squatting and stairs and general omgwhereamIgoingtoputthiscarafeI'veonlyusedonce?!? panic really took a toll. I can't believe I was doing intense water aerobics just 10 short days ago. It feels like eons.

In the meantime, our house is not ready yet: Man is working every day, and the insulation and ceiling strapping will be finished today, the priming tomorrow and the ceiling, kitchen and bathroom will be installed after that. Floors will be the last thing to go down - Trim will happen sometime in 2015 or so. Realistically, we'll be lucky to be moved in before Baby arrives. Worse would be if Baby shows up while we're moving. I want to be able to get settled away in the house before Baby, rather than have someone else move our things while I'm busy in the case room. But we'll have to wait and see. We won't be homeless, and if we have to bring baby back to our apartment rather than our very own house, well, it won't be the first kid to sleep in a laundry basket.

Speaking of laundry, there's a load of dirty with my name on it, and a sink full of dishes. Hi ho, hi ho, it's out of bed I go.

Quality time with the Baby

Baby and I are having a nice day today. I'm cleaning house, and Baby is napping and kicking my bladder intermittently. We're listening to tunes LOUD, and I've already shaped up the office, spare room, furnace room, rec room and living room. All that's left are the kitchen, bathroom and laundry room. Then I need to sweep snow from the front and back steps and see about tearing down the broken Christmas lights from the eaves.

Why the flurry of activity? Some may call it nesting. I call it 'Potential Tenants Are Coming To View My House Tomorrow and I Want Them To Take It So I Can Afford To Go On Maternity Leave.

The sky has clouded over since this morning - the good news is I don't need to wash the windows now! (Boy that sunlight really shows off the dirt). It's windy and effing cold, but my furnace fire is crackling away. I haven't spent a lot of time at my house lately. This is nice.

The OTHER house is getting subfloor upstairs today. Maybe even a bedroom wall, but lets not get ahead of ourselves.

Nine weeks, Five days to go.

Insulation

We went to the house today, to insulate a wall. Progress since the last time I was there? Invisible. We started tearing boards off the exterior bedroom wall to expose the studs. Then we were going to stuff insulation and put the boards back on.

Why wasn't the house insulated when it was built?

Because it's 80 years old, and insulation was a foreign word - they slapped layers of newspaper and, later, wallpaper over the cracks to keep out the wind.

We worked from the ground up, right to left. Man would pry off one end of the board, and I'd move to the left prying it off each stud until the whole thing was free. The first couple were especially bad. They were about knee-level, and I'm especially uncomfortable bending and kneeling right now. We were about seven and a half minutes into the job before I started feeling glum. Hopeless! The job is hopeless! We have bare studs for walls and sawdust-covered floors and roughed-in rafters, and BABY IS TEN WEEKS AWAY! I didn't say anything, because the more I panic the more Man worries, so I kept hammering away (by now I was in charge ot getting the nails out of the wood while Man insulated), feeling the despair well up, afraid of opening my mouth and afraid of tears starting to roll.

I felt angry and helpless and frustrated.... and then all of a sudden I didn't. I stopped thinking about it. It wasn't a concious decision, but I stopped dwelling on the enormous task ahead, and the looming Baby-imposed deadline, and soon we had the wall back together and the sawdust swept and we were out the door, arriving at the apartment to steaming chili in the crock pot and a loaf of sourdough bread as accompaniment.

If I can keep The Crazy at bay just a few more weeks, we'll start seeing major progress by way of walls and gyprock and paint and light fixtures... I can't wait.

Oh to get a full night's sleep

Baby is not even born yet, and I'm already lamenting my lack of sleep! This does not bode well.

I recognize now that sleep is VITAL to keeping my hysterical episodes under control. I know, I know - Duh! right? But understanding this simple concept on my own terms is a giant step forward for me in my continued battle with keeping The Crazy under control.

MEANWHILE, I'm 10 weeks and 4 days to D-day, and our house? Our house looks a little something like this:

I wish I were joking.