The baby's head might be in a good position, but his butt is still pushing into my sternum. "That baby is high!" said the ex-midwife who runs a healthfood store in the market. "When is he due?" Two Weeks. "He will be late, I think." Lately, I think so too. 2-3 more weeks. Or tomorrow.
Not that I have anything to complain about. Chris has been a creative powerhouse, building a GORGEOUS crib with a walnut base, and a changing table, also out of walnut wood. He has also taken to following me as I waddle around the house, groping me lasciviously and telling me that I am beautiful. I am very, very lucky.
My mom has been picking up tons of things for us and schlepping us everywhere to get a carseat off craigslist, an electric breastpump for me ("Do you really want to be hand-pumping?" she says, mimicking the manual pump and sticking her tongue out in mock exhaustion).
Yesterday I went to a matinee with Jennifer B., whose due date was yesterday and to yoga class, and then Elana came over for tacos. Thing is about pregnancy cravings is they are not all that intense. You just have a whole day or so where you think: "I could really go for tacos". And then you do.
