So, no news on the baby front. Not really. I mean, this past weekend was ROUGH, but that was a combination of an ongoing sinus infection (BOOO) and the fact that the baby is head down and making his way toward the runway, causing painful back contractions. But my doc – whom, again, I love – just basically threw some antibiotics at me and told me to suck it up, buttercup and so I’m doing just that.
Mother’s Day is coming up, and there’s a certain feeling when Mother’s Day falls when you’re nine months pregnant. That feeling is I DON’T WANT TO DO ANYTHING AND EVERYONE LEAVE ME ALONE, but I’m going to repress that. We have our final soccer game on Saturday (weather permitting .. if it gets canceled again, I’m going to go insane), plus a family visit on Friday night, and then a Mother’s Day Brunch on Sunday. I’m excited about Sunday because, well, FOOD. I am, however, debating wearing pajamas because do you know how much fun it is to wear real clothes now? The answer is: negative. Negative fun.
In trying to find the silver lining, I will say that having the baby lower is helping quite a bit with the crippling heartburn AND the breathing issues. Also, he we play high-five through my stomach. I like balancing bowls and things on my stomach and watching him knock it off.
I’m starting a list of shows that I should watch during late night feedings. So far, I have Mad Men, Justified, Game of Thrones, and possibly Duck Dynasty. I don’t know anything about the latter, but folks seem to like it. And the rest of my list is a little drama-heavy. Am I missing anything? Oh, probably Downton Abby. I don’t know how I lived through a baby before DVR.
There is currently a Verizon commercial running that features a little redheaded boy growing up and while that description doesn’t exactly sound groundbreaking, it RIPS ME APART every time. The realization has hit our house that in a matter of weeks, we will house not only a newborn but a thirteen year old. A teenager and an infant. BECAUSE WE ARE INSANE. And OLD.
Ooooh, and this: I am TERRIFIED that I will have this baby on Jack’s birthday. Wouldn’t that just be awful? Like, I am debating asking for an induction two days prior OR a written guarantee that June 2nd will NOT be the day, because I cannot imagine taking the child’s birthday from him. His thirteenth birthday, of all things.
Also, funny story: for weeks now, Tony has been talking about being onstage at Chick-Fil-A. Well, you know, he’s five and he makes up wild stories anyway, so we’ve kind of just ignored him. But then he started asking me about when I was onstage at Chick-Fil-A. So we wondered where we’d led him astray, thinking that there was a stage inside a fast-food restaurant. Then he mentioned that his pre-K’s teacher was a teacher at Chick-Fil-A. So I realized we needed to dive deeper.
“Chick-Fil-A, huh? Like, where we eat chicken? With the big slide?”
“No, Momma – where I’m going. In August.”
“The big school?”
“Yeah! The big school!”
“You mean, the Acad.. OOHHHHH, TRIPLE A.”
The Academy for Academics and Arts. Triple A. Chick-Fil-A. So now that we’ve got that ironed out, I need to figure out how many folks believe we’re sending Tony to receive an education at a place with exceptional chicken biscuits.