I now wake up with a start every morning, alarms going off in my head reminding me to attend to my basic biological needs IMMEDIATELY.
BATHROOM! EAT SOMETHING! BATHROOM AGAIN! NO you may not check your email! NO you may not check the weather forecast! And while you're at it, why don't you go to the bathroom again? NOW DRINK SOME WATER, BETCH!!
I am not a morning person under the best of circumstances and waking up in this kind of panic has made for some erratic behavior. Like running barefoot and on the verge of tears into the driveway to get Ryan's set of the keys to my car before he left for work because I CAN'T FIND MINE ANYWHERE %#@$@# #@$@$@$# %#$@$#@$#@$@ COFFEE NOOOOOOWWWWWW!
It's not pretty.
(After dropping Charlie off and getting some tea at the Big Green Coffeeshop I found my keys in the chair I always throw them in when I walk in the door. I hadn't looked there. Oops. Sorry sweetie!!)
And also, did you realize that six weeks equals forty-two days? Because that's how many days are left in this pregnancy (and Charlie's life as he knows it). And when I saw that printed on the handy online pregnancy calculator I was looking at this weekend I thought "Oh, that must be a mistake. Huh." and walked away from the computer to resume eating cookie dough and watching the Olympics.
It was only later that I started adding it all up... "I'm almost 34 weeks, which means there are 6 weeks remaining, 6 times 7 is... HOLY CRAP FORTY-TWO DAYS." It's possible that I said that last part out loud, and at an inappropriate time.
And they say you lose your practical skills when you go to grad school.
How can he be anything other than my baby?