Ready

Okay, I'm ready.

Don't get me wrong. I love being pregnant. Thus far, I've been fairly comfortable, and there's nothing like having a little creature squirming around in your belly. But I'm ready.

The last two nights have been tough. I can only lay in one position for about an hour before I have to roll over, which is an amusing process, actually, accompanied by copius amounts of moaning and bed jiggling.

Dave often gets up in the middle of the night, just because. He just doesn't sleep all night. Lately, he's been out of the bed more than he's been in it. I asked him if it was my fault, what with all the beached-whale rolling and the snoring (god help him - the snoring!). He sweetly denied that I was keeping him awake, but I pretty much don't believe him.

Work is getting done. I'm in that last phase - the "what do I REALLY have to do before this baby gets born?" phase. Like the Friday before a week-long vacation, I'm beyond panicky and quickly approaching "deal with it, people."

Yesterday, we cleaned out the inside of the car. It was totally gross. I found months of old french fries. I found a piece of gauze with the band-aid still stuck to it - a remnant from one of my 40,000 blood tests 9 months ago. The trunk was an archeological dig. But now we're down to the essentials: a couple of basketballs, some inflation needes, a basketball pump, an ice scraper, and two umbrellas. Everything's been vacuumed. The car seat is in position, at the ready. The firemen are going to install it in about a week.

If I last that long.