I have spent the last few days in a fabulously craptastic funk. Man, I was grouchy and so blue about so many things. Then, for some reason, today while walking to lunch with my superhot boss, it was like a cloud lifted. We spent our lunch hour cracking each other up about silly things like football rivalries and sports reporters. We talked about how cute our kid is, our plans for the long weekend, and sunning ourselves on rocks like lizards. (Ok, really just he wanted to do that. I wanted to get back inside to the air conditioning. But still.)
Anyhoo…I am resolved to be in a better mood. Even though today is kind of a sad day…the fabulous Ethel Baby passed away two years ago today. And I’m having some drama in my friendsphere. And the lobby outside my office is full of reporters waiting for Sen. Craig to announce his resignation. (Man, that bums me out. What a way to end a career. What a blow to the state of Idaho. What a STUPID THING TO DO. Seriously, listen to the police interview and then try to convince me that any first year law school student couldn’t have gotten those charges dropped. But props to the Senator for employing more of my previously blogged about battle tactics than I originally gave him credit for.)
In an attempt to make my resolve a little more, erm, resolved? I ate some cookies and read a funny blog. And now, yup, I’m in a good mood. I can’t believe that August is over though. Not that September in southern Hideyhoo is even remotely fallish. It’s still hotter than hell here, and the air is thick and smokey. But school has started, my football team opens against USC on Saturday, and Sweet Pea asked me about a Halloween costume the other day. So I suppose summer is officially on its way out.
Usually, I dig in my heels and refuse to acknowledge the changing seasons. But this year, the beginning of September means that October is right around the corner. And that means we’re going to have a baby soon. Woohoo!! And also, ohmigah, what have I done? And finally, sniff sniff. This is my last pregnancy. The last time I’ll be able to feel little feet in my belly. My last mommy of a newborn time. My last few weeks of being really uncomfortable and nauseated and bloated and hormotional and…BACK TO WOOOHOOO!
I told Sweet Pea several weeks ago that her baby brother was going to come when it was pumpkin time. And it’s funny, but now I’m sort of holding myself to that same timeframe. Like, the baby has strict orders to stay put until the air turns crisp (yeah, I worry about having a preemie, Sweet Pea was early) and then when we get out the fall decorations and put pumpkins on the porch he will magically arrive just in time to wear a cute and snuggly little costume for Halloween. How convenient and tidy for me, no? Like Martha Stewart is going to tie a grosgrain ribbon around his little diapered waist and present him to me with a freshly baked loaf of pumpkin bread. Ahh Fall. Ahh domesticity and perfection and bliss.
It’s the denial and terror talking. I realized that this morning when Sweet Pea tore the nursery apart and smeared lip balm all over the diaper changing pad. Kind of a, “How am I going to shower and dress myself while keeping an eye on the baby and his super helpful and busy big sister? Lalalalalalalala…Fall is family time. Fall is cocooning time. Fall is when we bake and wear sweaters and have perfect babies and perfect preschoolers who look like Ralph Lauren ads and play in the leaves. Lalalalalala,” moment.
It’s all true though, right?