Crabby Patty

Tessa calls everything a crabby patty these days, thanks to Sponge Bob.

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Today that is me.

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I am just too uncomfortable for words. I don't feel an urgency to get this baby here, or be in labor, but there is definitely something attractive in the idea of being able to breathe and move again. I feel like my joints are infused with plaster. I feel like a Macy's parade balloon (of Sponge Bob, perhaps?) is expanding inside my torso and that my ribs are about to break apart. My contractions are achy and painful ones. Every 10 minutes. Sigh.

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There is a long running joke between Guy and I that I have to figure out what magical task it is that the baby awaits me to complete before it is willing to be born. I had myself convinced that Adam would not be born until all of the windows in our apartment were washed. I make a mental list of nesty chores and day by day, one by one, I check them off. When Guy comes home each day, I tell him what I have done.

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"Oh, NOW the baby can be born!" he states with authority each time.

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And yes, I am working on my list.

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Last night for family night we held true to another of our traditions... the making of the Welcome Home poster for the baby. With the last few babes, we have made posters to welcome our little one here. We usually have done it after the due date, but we thought it couldn't hurt to do it early this time. I suppose I am setting myself up, what with my due date still two weeks off and all, but at this point I need to fill the hours with things to both focus and take my mind off what is going on.

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Tomorrow we will make a belly cast.

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Maybe the next day I will bake a cake.

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Or paint a room.

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Or wash the windows...

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THEN the baby can be born...