B and I have been staying with my parents since last Thursday. I'm itching for home, for my husband, for my own space with all of the trappings of my hobby filled life, but Beckett's had many adventures (lumber yard!!!) and I've made a serious dent in the new release movie selection. So, things are pretty good.
This little bird is now at 35 weeks, and well on his way to being out of the danger zone. The looming threat now is that his mother will be so mad with cabin fever by the time he's born that she'll abandon her newborn son and his brother to push a grocery cart down sidewalks, mumbling to herself about the injustices of confinement.
Bed rest is exhausting, contrary to how it sounds. I'm exhausted and have nothing to show for it, which does little for my mental state. But my to do lists are flourishing, and I have no shortage of new ideas. So, dear reader, keep your fingers crossed that shortly mothandsparrow will once again be a blog of action, not just words.
Darth Vapor Strikes Again (And Again)
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