Ready

O.k., I am ready. I thought I wasn’t, and maybe I’m in denial about life with three kids, but I am ready now. Like, NOW. I know I still have nearly three weeks to go. I know I could go past my due date, like so many pregnant women do. I know. I KNOW.

But I am ready.

I packed my hospital bag. I found a glider with matching ottoman. I have held the “what to do when I am out of the office” staff meeting (no boys, no naked days, no drinking until at least 10 am). I have written, re-written, re-written again my maternity leave instructions. I have cleaned, organized, polished, dusted, pared down, and scrubbed everything I can get my hands on. Twice. Two nights ago I cleaned out my closet. Then I faced all the clothes and hangers in the same direction and switched out all the hangers that were not white. Then I sorted the remaining hangers by type and color. Then I tied the sorted hangers in color coded bundles. Then I paced back and forth, wondering what I could possibly do with this one yellow hanger that couldn’t be bundled with the rest of the hangers, because I had a midnight blue bundle and a sky blue bundle and a slate gray bundle and a forest green bundle, but no yellow bundle. It threw my world into mayhem, this one yellow hanger. In addition to sweaty butts, this is the other thing pregnancy does to you: it makes you (meaning me, but you, vicariously) neurotic.

The kids beds! They aren’t made! Who cares if they are still sleeping in them?! Smooth the quilts! Fluff the pillows! Tuck in that corner!

Coffee grounds! On the counter! That outlet- it has dust on the top ledge! Vacuum! Trim your nails! Clean those phone buttons! Straighten that stack of papers! Alphabetize those books by author then by subject and then by copyright date! Shine those copper bottom pots! Speak in exclamation points!

If I weren’t feeling so crampy and contraction-y lately, I think my sense of urgency would be lower. But as each day passes, my body, blissfully unaware of dates on a calendar, says, we’re getting close. I have no idea how close. Maybe close means another four weeks. Maybe it means tonight. But contractions and cramps tell me that something, sometime, will happen.

In fact, I am even crankier than usual when I wake up these days, to realize that I did not go into labor. Not even once. No baby. No mad dash to the hospital. No water breaking, no calls to the doctor, no waking up in the middle of the night because it was “time.” I drink my coffee and try not to feel surly. But really, I am ready. O.k, Universe? I am ready.