I've resigned myself to the likelihood that my friend's psychic was way off on her birthing predictions. While my lady parts are well on their way to being labor-ready, I just don't FEEL like I'm going to deliver this baby any time soon.
Of course, this is kind of a good thing. Babies need their full time to cook, so the longer Babeleo stays in there the better. I've also got plenty of work left to do before he/she gets here. I'm trying to get the second chapter of my book finished before baby time, and there is still plenty of planning and writing left to do for my day job.
But then... then... I'm starting to feel like I have a case of the Friday's every day of the week. It's harder and harder to focus on anything with such a huge part of me screaming out "GIVE ME MY BABY!!" Yes, the impractical part of me can't wait to get my arms around this little one. Sometimes I feel like waiting another two or three weeks will kill me.
So, I try to keep myself busy, distracted, immersed in work of one kind or another. Between writing a book, making a monster batch of test ice cream, working full-time, and squeezing in as many social events as possible, I'd say I'm doing a pretty good job of that. This weekend we are hitting up the O. Henry Pun-Off, attending a backyard crawfish boil, and hopefully making it to the Gelato World Tour in Republic Square Park.
Sewing continues to serve as a handy distraction as well. I completed three changing pads this week, and I've been trucking along on an embroidery project using a cute pattern from Kitschy Digitals. By the way, the nursery is nearly complete. We're just waiting on some curtains from my Mom, then we can do a big reveal!
I've also entered nesting mode. After writing for a few hours last night I went downstairs to refill my water glass, only to be waylaid by a sudden urge to scour my kitchen from top to bottom. THESE PIPES ARE CLEAN!!!! Part of me just wants to ditch my job and spend the next three weeks disinfecting my house. Darn you, fiscal responsibility.
Scott Bobleo is feeling the itch too. Every time I have a contraction he starts hopping up and down, eager to get his watch out and start timing. He keeps cooking up new projects to obsess over too. This past Monday I woke up to a truck delivering a boatload of lumber. Apparently he's building some things. Is this the male version of nesting? Instead of cleaning the floor he builds a fence.
He's so macho.