Something changed over the last week.  I went from a patiently waiting, almost happily full of baby pregnant woman, to a ticking time bomb.  My attitude was starting to decline, the heat was really bothering me, I got a nasty case of poison ivy, none of my clothes seemed to cover my entirety, and I had (have) some sporadic sciatica pain that was absolutely crippling causing me to hobble until noon everyday or anytime I had to sit in the car for any length of time.  You see, the problem is that I was two weeks early with both my boys.  And now, with that day approaching, and a super moon in the mother sign behind us, I have started the waiting game.  Oh yes, it has begun.  But, we all know this is silly and illogical and well, detrimental to myself and anyone who crosses my path.  When asked when I am due, I simply mutter soon.  It feels a bit rude and rash, but I can’t help myself.

Then my parents came to visit.  We gardened and cleaned and the boys were so happily entertained, digging holes and adventuring deep in the woods.  Meals were cooked for me and cleaned up afterwards too.  There was a lot of laughing, and a lot of commiserating, and I felt oh so much better.  Then they left, and I tried to hold my chin up.  But luckily it started to droop only in time for more family, sweet dear missed family that lives much too far away, to remind me of what it is I am waiting for.

These sweet children played around all day yesterday with an ease I didn’t know existed in cousins.  The grown folks cared for me so gently, I swear I felt like a child myself.  A much-needed reaffirmation that this baby will enter the world so loved already, and that of course, of course I can hold out for that.  It is some what of a gift to allow this babe to choose his or her birthday and I am rejuvenated enough now to do this, with at minimal a mona lisa smile on my face.  I can manage that I think…