Steve left this morning for a quick trip to Baltimore. The wonderful people at the USGS bought him a brand spankin new MAC Book Pro under the condition that he is at their beck and call for all things Pod/Webcast. It is a pretty sweet deal considering he gets to travel to different offices and he gets entertainment while on the plane. No he is not flying with Tony Stark, I just mean that he can use his new laptop for pretty much anything. The bummer is that he had to leave. He hates it when I say this because it makes him feel guilty, but I hate it when he leaves. Whether it is overnight or for 10 days, I just hate it. I don't sleep well because I am a BIG scardy cat. I don't eat well because I have no one to account for. I don't clean up after myself becuase, lets face it, who is going to notice and I have to make sure all the pets are fed, watered, and walked. (No I am not cleaning out the liter boxes). It is miserable and I hate it.
At least I used to hate it. Cut to six months pregnant with an ever expanding waist line and a shrinking bed and too many bodies in said bed. Having a bed to myself at this moment in my pregnancy is a god-send. I can pile all the pillows onto the bed and make myself a little nest right smack in the middle. I sleep like the dead because I am not worried that Steve is one roll away from cuddling the dog on the carpet. I am also so tired by the end of the day I hardly take time to check to make sure the doors are locked (don't worry Dad I am checking) let alone have time to be scared of things that go bump in the night.
I will miss Steve and Saturday evening when he gets home will be wonderful. But a part of me can't help but wonder if it is okay to kick your husband out of bed BEFORE the baby gets here.
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