35

Every time I think to come here and write, I decide to do something else instead.

Like sleep. Or eat. Or rant about my situation at work.

Fun at parties, that's me!

You know, I tried to quit my job a few weeks ago, but the circumstances made me so angry that I chose fight over flight. It's not the best timing for sure, but I feel like it's important for me to take a stand against the bad behavior. We'll see what happens. At the very least, I am now down to part time. Five hours a day, four days a week. Yesterday ended the first week with that schedule and so far, so good.

I've been thinking on and off about Kindergarten for the (not-for-long) Littlest. For a while, I debated taking the extra year for her since her summer birthday forced me into thinking I had a choice in the matter, but then one day I woke up and it felt like the decision was made.

You ever had that happen? Obsess x 1000000 and then *poof* it's over?

Yeah. It doesn't happen often for me, but I was grateful in this case. It was just like a peace that washed over me and then I heard "Why wait?"

I couldn't come up with a response to the voice in my head (which, yay?).

Like, really. What would be the benefit for my child to spend another year in Pre-K? So at least that part's done. And then, on top of that, we should be moving again before the new school year, so no point in me battling with the people here about placement (though, of course, we'll update the IEP appropriately). That just gave me years back on my life. No unreturned phone calls, no explaining why I think she should be here and not there, no begging either for or against the home school.

Buying myself some time is nice.

Because one thing I can't keep from happening is this new babe.

He's coming.

Soon.

Earlier in the week, I realized that I was 35 weeks pregnant and that meant that I had 35 days to go until my estimated due date. Days.

I'm a 35 year-old woman 35 weeks into my pregnancy with about 35 days to go.

Pardon me while I go freak my freak.

People ask me if we're ready.

What's "ready"?

Like, do we have stuff? Yeah...some. I didn't throw anything away after Playette so the pack-and-play, swing, bouncy seat...all those biggies are cleaned up and in good working order. Some great friends have donated boy-type hand-me-down clothes and other items, which is awesome.

But are we ready-ready?

Um. Well. Er.

It's just...different. We're not as anxious about things as we were when Playette was born. I think we realize that whatever we don't have and end up needing, we'll get. Or maybe we don't really need at all.

Also, and more importantly, we aren't naive. No matter how much we want to be blissfully unaware, we know that things can happen. There are no guarantees. And with that in mind, our primary focus is on the health and well-being of this little boy.

No surprises would be a bonus.

Everything else is gravy.



And now I want gravy. Dammit.