Tuesday, February 7, 2012
This week brings us to the nice terrifying number of 30 - nice in its roundness, terrifying in that it means I have a mere 10 weeks to go.
10 weeks left of (relative) normal.
10 weeks left of (relative) silence.
10 weeks left of life as I've known it for the past 24 years, but especially the last 2.
Only 10 weeks left of it being just the two of us.
My little heart is having a hard time putting up with all of this. I feel readier than I've ever felt to start being a mommy, but I also feel about as ready as something that is not ready at all. How am I supposed to handle never going back to just me and Tonyface lounging in our pjs on the couch with nothing on our minds but mac & cheese for dinner?
10 weeks left until, out of nowhere, there is half of me and half of him combined in one new little body who will be living in our house and getting all up in our couch lounging time. I mean, I KNOW we're going to love him, but it's just the strangest thing ever.
Also - and let's talk about this - only 10 more weeks until I have to push that dude out of me. I mean, come on! What are you going to be doing in 10 weeks? If it's not lying in a hospital in a melted puddle of anxiety, then I think you owe it to your human decency to send me some brownies. If anyone reading this is currently lying in a puddle of their own childbirth anxiety, give me your address and I will send you brownies.
Speaking of which. Good Idea or Bad Idea: watching all the baby shows on tv 10 weeks before you're supposed to deliver? I can't decide. (What Not To Wear, however, I think we can all agree is a Good Idea.)