To Do

Ugh.  That "have baby" task has been on my little Remember the Milk to do list since April 7.  It mocks me. I don't want to be overly complainy or anything (at least on the internet--call me on the phone and you'll get an earful about how I'm 79 weeks pregnant and I want my body to belong to me again and how much it hurts and OHMYGODGETTHISTHINGOUTOFME).  Last night I was 90% sure I was in labor.  And then I wasn't.  As a result, I haven't been terribly pleasant today.

And then everything just gets thrown into perspective, doesn't it?  Am I really going to sit around and cry because I might have to be pregnant until my due date?  Or because I might have to have a safe surgery (that I still really don't want to have, by the way)?  Seeing and hearing the stuff about Boston has sure helped to provide a much-needed attitude adjustment.  

The baby isn't happening today.  But neither is the shower--let's be honest.  And I'll probably whine and get Matt to vacuum.  But we are safe and happy and have much to be grateful for.

Like a young Jon Hamm, who, thank God, was not one of my peers.  Because if he had been, I would have died every day.

And baby sunglasses.

And this boy, who is going to make a fantastic big brother.

And my new favorite print for the nursery.

And a husband who brings home tacos at midnight.  Those are the best kinds of husbands.  I'm out.  These tacos aren't going to eat themselves.