Today is the “putting away of the loot, and the figgurin’ what we need to buy” day. The house is full of cute books and little doobobs, which is pretty weird because apparently there will be someone here who will actually be using them soon. This really isn’t sinking in much, except that the clock is now officially running out: two months to go, which at the start of this adventure seemed like light years away. Now I look at my husband and think, “These will be our last days alone together. Damn, we’d better make the best of it.” The funny thing is, I don’t really feel like going to more movies, or out to dinner, or any of the rest of it. We’ve had eight good years together without children; I think we can probably spare some of our good fortune with a tiny tot.

I say that now with the luxury of spontaneity and freedom…

But our friends, few of whom have kids, are beginning to realize that we’re having a baby. It seems like a less abstract concept now to all of them, and they’re both freaked out and warming up to it. Freaked out, I suspect, because they see themselves in us, and excited because they get to see what all the fuss is about without actually having one of their own. It’s a “try before you buy” scenario. They have the luxury of bailing out any time if the little nipper creates too much of a headache. Lucky bastards.

So I get to put this stuff away into the kid’s spartan bedroom, and ponder the reality of having a bun around who isn’t just swimming in the murk of my belly. It’s unfathomable, really. I looked at the babies who were here the other night, and even with hard proof that there was in fact an infant that came out of the stew, it’s really pretty difficult to comprehend.

Although writing his name on all the thank you cards put a little spin on things…

Popularity: unranked [?]