According to him, our infestation "Isn't that bad," although I don't really even want to think about what an exterminator considers a 'bad' infestation. Truth be told, I felt a little ripped off at first. I had my 28-week midwife appointment (more on that later), so BoyWonder had to deal with the exterminator.
So, BoyWonder rushes home from work to meet the guy (and do last-minute cleaning, because that's just how BoyWonder is, bless his OCD heart), walks through the house with him, shows him where we've seen bugs, what we've done about it, yaddayaddayadda.
When BoyWonder tells the exterminator that we're pretty sure they're coming in from next door and the back yard, the exterminator apparently said that it's completely impossible for them to have come outside. Something about how roaches don't colonize like ants do (which I can kind of believe), and that they can't survive outside long enough to move from one house to another, because this particular species of roach is at the bottom of the food chain for almost everything else that lives outdoors.
Okay, fine. Except that we've seen the same species of roach on our back step, and on the outside of our back door. On a regular basis, all.summer.long. But, whatever, exterminator dude.
BoyWonder then packs up Kitty and leaves the exterminator to do whatever it is he's going to do... Which is sticky traps and boric acid.
We're paying him to do almost exactly what we've already done, although I'm sure he was much more liberal with the boric acid than we were, because that shit was everywhere when we got home.
Even after all that, though, we were still seeing bugs. In fact, about three days later I had the worst encounter ever before work, which involved no less than eight live roaches skittering across my kitchen floor before I left for work in the morning (which, mind you, is well before 4:30 AM). BoyWonder was still finding them in the bathroom. Neither of us was very happy.
And then, because we finally got desperate, BoyWonder coated our entire back step with Roach Prufe (it's boric acid, from the hardware store. And it's bright blue. Not conspicuous at all...) and put sticky traps between the storm door and the main door.
So far, that seems to be helping. I found one dead (hooray!) one in my kitchen over the weekend, and (knockonwood) we haven't seen any live ones since Friday. We've been tricked like this before, but I'm hoping that when the exterminator comes back out for his follow-up treatment in two weeks he'll tell us that they're gone.
And that's the roach update.
As far as Sprout goes... All is well. We had a growth scan at our 28-week appointment (the one BoyWonder had to miss because of our critter problem), and he was weighing in at 2 lbs, 14 oz. The sonographer guessed a ballpark length of 16 inches, but he was still wiggly and kind of uncooperative so it was a guess. And, since you saw that I said 'he,' I had her confirm the sex while I was there. We were pretty sure we saw it at the anatomy scan, but didn't ask to confirm, and really, once you see it, you can't stop thinking about it. So, Sprout's proud of his parts, and totally ruined my hopes for staying Team Green, although to be honest I'm pretty freaking excited.
I really thought he was a girl, so I'm kind of glad we found out... Although, really, the more I think about it, I have no idea what I'd do with a girl. Don't get me wrong--I'd love to have a daughter at some point. But I'm not girly. I don't have a ton of female friends. I don't have sisters, and neither did my mom or her mom, which means I come from a long line of non-girly women.
Also? Teenage girls scare the everloving crap out of me.
That being said, finding out the sex hasn't really changed much, except that I'm now forbidden from buying any clothes, which actually is what I'm struggling with. It turns out that my sister-in-law (not Ducky's wife, but BoyWonder's sister... MonsterNephew's mom) saved everything from when Monster was a baby. And she's a clothes and shoes junkie, so not only is there tote after tote of expensive (also not-my-style) baby clothes waiting for me, but also shoes to match almost every single outfit, from birth until... well... I haven't even asked. Hopefully at some point I'll be allowed to buy something. And I'm still sneaking in some tiny newborn outfits because I want to pick out his hospital/coming home clothes, even if it's just an adorable sleeper.
But the nursery is slowly getting done. The dresser finally came in today (BoyWonder is picking it up after work), so I can start washing/prepping my diapers. Sad but true: I'm more excited about that than almost any other baby gear. Holy mother of adorable things, the tiny cloth diapers and covers are awesome.
The decal I ordered almost two weeks ago still hasn't shipped, which is bothering me. Part of that is my fault--I asked for BoyWonder's opinion, because (I'll be honest here) he has a better eye for decorating than I do. The problem with this is that the only decals on the entire internet that we could agree on are from an Etsy seller... In Chile. And I had to have it done as a custom order, which is also slowing things down.
Those decals were supposed to be the project to make me feel like I was making progress while we waited on the dresser to get here. ::sigh::
Once the dresser is here, and the decals finally arrive, all we have left to do is a couple of small-ish projects. I found plans for book ledges on Pinterest that will only cost us around $30 to do a small section of wall in books (the former preschool teacher in me is so excited about this), and I figured out how to pull paint colors from the picture of the decal and get actual paint colors from Sherwin-Williams, which makes OCD BoyWonder happy as well. And we need some kind of rug, but that's going to be the very last thing we worry about. I think.
All of this work? Yeah. Kid's not even going to be sleeping in his room for months. But it's a nice distraction, and it gives me something to babble about when people ask me if I'm ready (and OMG I'm getting sick of that question).
In other news... I failed my one-hour glucose screening. I'm hoping it was a fluke, but tomorrow I'm going in to take the 3-hour test. I'm not excited. At all. Mostly because it's my only day off, and I don't get to sleep in, but also the thought of getting myself up and around and into Wichita with no food or coffee makes me want to cry.
I miss sleep.
I shouldn't, because it seems like that's all I do. But good sleep? Ha! What I'm getting these days are really just a series of annoying naps spread out through the day. Yesterday I got off work at 11, came home and did my yoga, attempted to eat lunch, fell asleep while eating said lunch, moved to my bed, and slept for two hours before BoyWonder came home. I've reverted completely back to first trimester bear behavior. He came in, kind of patted my back, and asked if I was okay (because I don't really like taking naps because I wake up angry every single time), and instead of responding with a real answer, I asked him if he brought home anything to eat. And then asked for water and grapes.
What's really sad about this is that I ended up going to bed super early last night, too, only to wake up feeling more tired than I can remember being in my entire life. Well, that might be an exaggeration, but not by much.
Which is why, when people ask me if I'm ready to get this kid out of me, my answer is almost always 'yes.' Even though no, I don't want a preemie, and yes, I want him to keep cooking until he's ready to come out, I'm still ready for that day to come. If we could just fast-forward ten weeks, but still get everything done, I'd totally do it.
Also? Yes, I'm quite aware that there is a whole new version of the word exhaustion waiting for me on the other side of this finish line. Somehow, though, that doesn't scare me.
No comments:
Post a Comment