As of today, if all goes well, the baby girl will be making her grand entrance in exactly 27 days.
I am so ready for this. I feel like a beached whale most days. My tummy sticks out so far I can’t see my toes. Even the cutest of maternity clothing doesn’t look cute in the eighth month. My skin is a mess. I haven’t even looked at my needles and hooks and yarn since May and there’s an almost-complete-but-not-enough-to-wear maternity sweater sitting in a bag in my bedroom closet. This baby girl is acting putting on a daily show of her rendition of the movie “Alien”, stopping just short of actually popping out of my belly. Thank the Good Lord I don’t mind the cold, because I’m wearing flip flops just about everyday since they don’t require bending over to tie. Oh, and when I do need to bend over to say pick up the 80 or so flash cards I may have dropped because my hands no longer work at this point for holding things, I can’t breath and get light headed. I am so ready for this.
Then, my brain kicks in, and I realize something.
I am so not ready for this. I haven’t finished (read:started) a baby book for Crazy Curls yet (or, come to think of it, the Pirate Princess (started, not finished) before her. The “nursery” aka the Baby Girl’s current room, looks like a storage closet with a crib. There are boxes everywhere. There’s clothing everywhere. There’s even a bassinet that needs to go out to the curb but just hasn’t been moved because it’s holding (you guessed it!) clothing that belongs in said boxes. There are boxes of little boy clothing that haven’t been touched in about five years that need to be sorted through and donated before they are no good to anyone. (I’m realizing a lot of my issues have to do with clothing…hmmm.) I have yet to figure out the new sleeping arrangements for when we have six children living in a three bedroom apartment. I have to sort through whatever neutral clothing I do have and see what can be used for a baby girl, and then wash it, and then find a place to put it all away.
Oh, and then there’s Christmas. The tree, the trim, the presents, the cleaning.
Oh, and Santa. I’ll leave you to figure that one out on your own.
And unemployment (or under-employment at the very least).
And the Superhero’s fifth birthday.
And I realize…I am so not ready for this.
Thank God I have those 27 days and a good family to help me get ready.
Let’s do this.