kicking and screaming
I've begun my official countdown to D-day. Due-date day. Delivery-Day, Day that can't fucking get here soon enough, daminit!!
60 days. 60 days from today, people. that means january 2, but we're all keeping our fingers crossed for december 31st or sooner, aren't we, because we just can't wait for our little tax-deduction to arrive. no, seriously. i realize that i bitch and whine on a constant basis "Is she DONE yet?" and my mom keeps telling me, "No, she's not all cooked yet, she's gotta stay in there.." I'm done with this pregnancy thing, and i want her out. I said to Mike the other day: "You know, I don't have to do this again. We don't have to grow our own babies. There are plenty of extras in the world. We can adopt next time." He remained silent, and i am assuming that's because he disagreed with me but knew that if he mentioned me getting pregnant again anytime within the next, let's say, five years or so, I'd kill him. And I might. So 60 more days, give (or hopefully take) a few.
As most of you know, being all knocked up has made me pretty boring. I don't get out much, and I generally have nothing new to talk about unless it relates to all things baby, so you shouldn't be surprised when i have nothing much else to talk about on my random posts here. So if you're sick of hearing about it, stop reading now.
There is a baby shower coming. I'm anxiously awaiting it, but i have no idea when it is, where it is or who is coming because it's a surprise thanks mostly to my mom, Mike's mom, and Alisha. So if you weren't invited and you wish you had been, I'm sorry, it's not my fault, but just to let you know, we are registered at BabiesRUs if you want to get us something (nudge nudge, wink wink.) Here is the link to the baby registry.
Um, ok, and let me take the time to briefly talk about childbirth classes. This is not lamaze class as some people might invision it. We don't sit around on the floor with pillows and do breathing excercizes for hours, we don't chant or anything weird - i don't even get massages. The class is pretty much like: Ok, this is what is going to happen to you and your body from the moment you go into labor until the day you can sit down again without it hurting really really bad. So yeah, it's kinda scary, but i've been looking forward to every monday night because i'd rather know everything i am getting myself into ahead of time. At the diner a few weeks ago when Kelli and I got together for lunch, Beau was also with us. And of course Kelli and i were doing all sorts of graphic baby-having talking and Beau was trying to tune it out but he just had to ask: "Do you think all mothers obsess as much as you two do about giving birth?" And we're both like: "Um, YEAH!" Because it's terrifying. Seriously, I am not going to lie. I know it's 'the most natural thing in the world,' but shit. This is what I said to Beau: "Say for instance that you knew for a fact that in a couple of months you'd have to pass a golf ball through your penis, and it would take hours for it to come all the way out, and you wouldn't be able to be drunk or high, and you'd have to be awake through the entire thing... wouldn't you want to be as mentally prepared for that as possible?" and he said, "Well, if i knew that was going to happen I'd just down a whole bottle of vodka or something before leaving for the hospital," And I'm like "No, no, you can't do that." His final answer was: "Man, I'm glad I'm not a girl." Mmmhmm. But I've strayed far from my point, and all I really wanted to mention was that I have the best daddy in the whole class. I mean, Mike is the best dad in the class. There are only four couples in the class, including us, and all three of the other guys sit there with their arms crossed and slouch down in their seats, don't say a word, and generally look pissed off that their pregnant wives (yeah, we're the only unmarried ones, too) dragged them to this hellhole for two hours a week. Then there's Mike. Mike raises his hand and asks more questions than we girls do, and he brings a little notebook with him and takes notes every night. I don't even take notes. I wasn't even planning on taking notes. Anyway, I am really proud of him, and I'm very relieved to know that he won't be one of those dads that sits in a chair in the corner hiding behind a camera while I'm kicking and screaming in the middle of a miserable labor six feet across the room. When I tell him I hate him for doing this to me, at least I know he'll be right there holding my hand - the hand I'll probably be breaking. And besides, no cameras are allowed until I am allowed to put my panties back on.
Well, it's naptime. I think I need to sleep a bit before work tonight, so one last bit of info before I go. There's been one particular question everyone and their brother has been asking us since August, like it's the most important thing and everyone just HAS to know. "Have you picked a name for her yet???" Well, the answer, finally, is yes. We have picked a name.
But we're not telling what it is.