An All-Baby Edition -- for Saturday, not Friday . . .
Guess what? No baby yet.
I know, I know, I'm not even at my due date, but according to random passers-by, I must be given a wide berth since I am apparently in danger of EXPLODING at any moment.
Makes a girl feel real special, you know?
The baby is still head down, thank God, so all systems are GO. I'm ready when you are, Number Five.
(okay, that's a lie . . . I don't have all your stuff together, but I am ready to meet you!)
I have been having all the usual aches and pains of late pregnancy, and I am once again reminded of God's brilliant plan for getting women to sign on for childbirth.
For me, the end of pregnancy is so uncomfortable that having a fully formed human make his or her entrance through my nethers sounds like a perfectly reasonable plan for making my tremendous hip and back pain vanish.
When I am not nine months pregnant, it just sounds like torture.
I am having AWFUL pregnancy dreams this time around. I usually have bad dreams when I'm pregnant, but these have been real doozies. Maybe I'll share some in a separate post.
Who else has had terrible hormone-induced dreams? Let's see a show of hands . . .
I thought about packing my bag for the hospital last week, but then I knew that it would seal my fate and I would remain pregnant for another three weeks. That's like nine years in Pregnant Lady Time.
I remain committed to my highly superstitious plan of flinging all kinds of random junk into a bag on my way to the hospital.
I received our parish's schedule for all of the Holy Week and Easter masses, and I immediately started calculating who would need to be at which mass and how that would shake out for child care, etc . . .
And then I realized . . . Uhhhh, I might be in labor for any one of these dates and times. Maybe I should be thinking about logistics and child care for that as well.
It's amazing that I can be so consumed by thoughts of the baby, and yet completely forget that the time is nigh . . .
I was in the bookstore the other day, looking through the baby section, when I saw an extremely cute baby book. It was the sort of thing I would have snatched off the shelf and clutched to my chest, crooning "Preciousssss . . ." if I had been pregnant with Francie.
Instead, I faced reality and left it there. I've become the cliche.
Francie has an elaborate baby book, filled with minutiae.
Fiver has a good, solid baby book, filled with important details.
Sally has a passable baby book, filled with quick highlights.
Bun has a sham of a baby book with his name, birth date, and birth stats, and nothing else.
I just keep telling myself that this baby has a BLOG.
Have a happy weekend, my friends, and if your weather is like ours, then get out there and enjoy it!
For more Quick Takes (and less baby blather), visit Jen at Conversion Diary.