I wrote in a letter now framed in baby’s room that “…if you are anything like your dad, the world will be a better place.” I meant that it would be great if our baby was as kind, caring and laid-back as Matt (also, I really want him to have dimples). Well, instead, it seems as if our dear, sweet boy has instead adopted his dad’s philosophy of time and is going to be late, two days post-term as I write this.
I don’t feel physically “DONE” or uncomfortably miserably as some pregnant family and friends of mine have described toward the end (feel so incredibly fortunate to still be able to get plenty of sleep), but I am entirely mentally bummed out he isn’t here. What’s he waiting for? I get it, it’s cold outside but I’ve told him, that’s what blankets are for – and trust me, we have PLENTY of blankets (and clothes, and toys, books and anything he could possibly need).
I’ve tried a few old wives tales, but I can only eat so much pineapple. And I’m sick of the concerned, seeming judgmental stares from gym-goers while walking on the treadmills. I’m just going to have to resign myself to HIS timetable, however frustrating that is for type-A me. Again, of ALL the traits to take from Matt…
Here’s hoping when he does come, he’s extremely apologetic and wants to spend his whole life making it up to me by listening to and following every word I say from here on out. J
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