I shouldn't have said yesterday that I would be wearing each of these four maternity shirts 30 times before the baby was born. At the time, I was thinking about how that made the purchase a good value. This morning as I was putting on the blue one, I thought, "I will have to wear it 29 more times, and each of the other three shirts 30 times each, before this baby is born." It sounded like forever.
I have been trying to enjoy this pregnancy and not hurry it along, but hurrying things along is in my nature. I am always impatient for the next upcoming event--and then, when the event is done, wishing I'd enjoyed the anticipation more. I'm only able to enjoy the anticipation after-the-fact: thinking later about how much fun it was to wait. I can't enjoy the waiting itself.
I should be patting my tum and thinking about how great it is to feel like I'm always working on something important even if I'm lying on the bed reading a People magazine. I should be relishing the project of going through baby name books and choosing a name. I should be wanting this to go slowly, since after Paul's reaction to this pregnancy, I'm lucky to have it at all. Instead I'm measuring, measuring: how many weeks are left, how many months are left, how many shirt-wearings are left.
Gift ideas for an 8-year-old, part 1 of 2 - I have TWO 8-year-olds to buy for, so I’m going to split it up into two posts. Today will be the things we’re getting for Edward. I dislike saying “Gift id...