Three weeks.

But really, probably not. I have decided that June 16 or 17th will actually be the day, as in, you know, THE DAY.

If not before. (Which of course, I realize, destines me to a fate of two weeks overdue-ness. In July. Because the universe scoffs at cocky self-assured bloggers. I wonder what other blogs the universe reads?)

I still go back and forth between being ready and being SO not ready.
Not ready:

• I have no glider with matching ottoman to feed my fantasies of rocking a precious newborn to sleep


• I have no hospital hall walking slippers


• I have not packed the hospital bag


• Holy shit. Three kids? Like one, two and THREE? Not ready. So not ready.

Ready:

• We have committed to selling the condo. Or at least trying to sell it. In fact, our realtor called this morning and someone wants to see the place the day after tomorrow! Which means we have to scrub the chocolate stains off the walls and probably stash plastic garbage bags of random stuff in our cars, to make it look super roomy and awesome. Because, really this condo rocks so much, we find that we don’t actually need things like a coffee maker or a toaster or toothbrushes. Buy it and you too will never need a broom or winter boots or cookbooks. Amazing!


• Contractions. A lot of them. Intermittent, yes. But painful, real contractions that let me know that we are not far off.


• I wet my pants yesterday.

The scene:
Me pushing Ella in a cart through the local garden shop, picking out lettuce seeds and cucumber plants. A woman who works there approaches.

“Excuse me… are you just really hot?... (glancing at my backside and looking somewhat uncomfortable, but well intentioned) Or… did your water break?”

Me, reflexively feeling up my rear end. With some shock and some relief, I verified that no, I was not leaking amniotic fluid.

I was literally sweating my ass off.

Look, I am pregnant. Everything sweats. My hands. My feet. My pits. And yes, my butt. It’s lovely. And it is SO not something they warn you about in pregnancy books.


• The eclipsing of all other thoughts by thoughts of labor. And a nearly primal need to make it as natural, calm, quiet and dark in the delivery room as possible.


• An eagerness to meet this new little person we have created that will make the world a better place and our family an even bigger, louder and more joyful one than before.