I know, I know. Poet I am not.'Twas the weeks before birthing, when all through the house
Not an animal was stirring, not even my gigantic dog;
The crib sheets were folded, the Halo Sacks washed,
In hopes that Lil' Dude soon would hurry the eff up and get here.
However, at work, I feel like I'm struggling to get a head. Budgets and revenue and all that mambojambo is fine. I have great staff that has helped to set up up for a terrific year. We're well ahead of the curve (and most of my peers, thank you very much, not that it's a competition or anything okay okay, everything's a competition) and things should be running smoothly whenever I leave (Now!? ugh, nope not yet). But I still have these little projects- Testing Recertifications and Parents Handbook for the association- that I have to accomplish. Technically this stuff isn't due until the end of August, but I'm definitely going to be unpregnant and sorta busy by then.
Side story: One of my water fitness instructors keeps telling me I'm going to be late. That's fine, but she says I'll be late like her. As in, she swears she was 6 to 8 weeks late with all three of her children. Grant it, she's a little older and kind of senile, but there's no effing way she went 8 weeks overdue. And she swears she knows when she got pregnant: She says the morning after she "did the nasty" (her term, not mine) she woke up throwing up and knew she was pregnant. Okay, so add bat shit crazy to the list of things she is... along with being the lady that stands naked between the double mirrors at the sink in the locker room shudder. This woman also attended BURNING MAN last year. She's 70 something.
Anyway, I'm scrambling to get these months long projects done, and do the day to day things things sometimes take days (I waited for a pool inspector for 6 hours yesterday. That was 6 hours I spent basically twiddling my thumbs instead of getting my normal duties done, which I now get to do today). Something's gotta give somewhere. I once heard the analogy that directors are professional plate spinner's, trying to see how many plates we can have going at once, and eventually, hope the one's that we drop aren't the big ones. I think that's the most accurate description of my job. Not that it's a bad thing, per se, but it makes life very entertaining to say the least.
If I can manage to keep the big plates from falling, we're doing okay. At least until I come back in October.
I keep telling husband that I wish Lil Dude would just come out. But he had a valid point last night. "You should be enjoying the moments you have to yourself right now." I have much to learn, Obi Wan Kenobi, because that was so true. Luckily, he's giving me a lot of space to enjoy those moments- yesterday I came home, sat in the glider in the nursery and finished a little light reading (Actually it was pretty rough- Tina dropped off a copy of The Lovely Bones when she was down. It's amazing, but no easy summer read). Then he cooked a Delicious Bass aka Chicken Kabobs and spicy potatoes. After dinner, we set off separately with the dogs to try to encourage a little pelvic-engaging action. I had a woman in the neighborhood actually called out to me from her porch step that I should "Go home and sit down, before that baby falls out." Seriously, lady? I don't even know you.
That was the plan, though. Encourage Lil Dude to fall out.
Last night, before going to bed, husband asked "Are you going to go into labor tonight?" All I could say was I hope so. No such luck.
I did get up to pee five separate times though. I may be approaching a new record.
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