We've had a crazy couple of days in the Knipe household of late. Sometimes I think we live in a zoo, and we don't even have kids yet!
This past weekend, Chris and I continued our attack on our jungle, I mean, our yard. Our one acre property continues to grow and thrive (thanks to tons of rain and humidity) with all sorts of jungle-like vines, trees, and shrubs. We have cleared much of it away, yet somehow, it keeps coming back!
One of our core projects was our front hedge row. I once again trimmed them (proof that a 9 month pregnant woman can indeed handle a hedge trimmer) as Chris worked to pull out the random other plants growing in the hedges. On his hands and knees, he worked for over three hours thinning out and pruning the base of the hedges. They look great..... Chris's arms and legs, however look awful---- poison ivy strikes the guy again!
Chris is super allergic to poison ivy, so he tried to take the proper precautions: He wore long sleeves and gloves, came in immediately and showered with the turbo anti-poison soap, yet within two hours, he had red rashes break out all over him! Poor guy!
We no sooner came in from hedge trimming to realize that our super fat cat Lewis had vomited all over the first floor. Further, poor cat couldn't even make it to the litter box to...well, you know. Needless to say, it was a mess.
A few days of this routine and Lew Cat started looking pretty ill. Yesterday, I drug him to the vet, his least favorite place! I had to crawl under the bed to drag him out, literally kicking and screaming.
Picture this: Me, 9 months pregnant, carrying a 20 pound cat, hissing and crying loudly, into the vet's office. It was NOT awesome.
After leaving Lew at the vet for some further testing, Chris and I headed outside to do more yard work--- death! I was working near the back deck and out of the corner of my eye, I see Chris running like a madman toward me, arms flailing.
Chris: "Get them off! Get them off!"
Me; "Who? What? Use your words!"
Chris: "Bees! Bees! Stinging me! Help!"
First of all, who runs, with bees trailing him, toward the pregnant woman? I mean, really?! Second, who is concerned about modesty when one has stirred up a hornet's nest? Apparently Chris. It is imperative to strip off all clothing or the person will just keep getting stung repeatedly; as I am trying to verbalize this to Chris, he refuses to take his clothes off outside and thinks it's a great idea to run INSIDE the house with 30 bees on his tail. Not smart.
Needless to say, it was quite a night.
Chris looks like a train wreck -- poison ivy on his arms and legs intermixed with bee sting marks. He is one hot, soon-to-be-dad.
Here's to hoping we can get ourselves together before D-Day. But then, why should we? Our future child will see we're nuts soon enough. Why hide it?