We’re ready. Well… as ready as we’ll ever be. The house is completely clean, lawn mowed, various infant seats sanitized and set up, diaper station stocked, newborn clothes washed and hospital bags packed. We figure Thursday would be a good day because Rob will have a break in a huge project he’s doing, and the house will still be moderately clean. According to the contestants, The Boy will make his appearance as early as the 15th (Shannon) and as late as May 2nd (Gretchen… what the…?). Strangely, many of our friends from college guessed 4/20. Can’t quite figure that one out. And to answer everyone’s question: yes, we think we have a name, and, no, we’re not telling. HA!
Aside from the increasingly uncomfortable Braxton-Hicks contractions, I feel fine. It’s just that… toddlers are very low to the ground. Who knew. And I can’t seem to bend at the waist anymore. So to do the 50 million things a day that 2-year-olds require I either have to bend sideways with one leg sticking up behind me, or completely sit on the ground. This would be okay, except that it takes me a ridiculous amount of time to get up again. So, yes, I’m tired.
Thankfully we’ve had one last weekend to rest and prep for the impending craziness. Granny and Uncle Joe took Violet for two whole days (THANK YOU!!!). We were able to get all of the aforementioned to-do list finished (actually, I mostly did the no-bending chores and directed Rob, who slaved away), plus go on a date (anyone living in Austin, you must see this). I even took a bubble bath and slept in. Ah heaven.
Of course Violet had way too much fun, didn’t ask about me and didn’t really want to come home. Ingrate.