Preparation

It is the eve of labor.  Maybe - unless little one shows up tonight.... I thought it was the eve of labor two weeks ago, on a Sunday night, timing contractions every four minutes.  But we returned home.  And it's been good.  To "get prepared."  (I think a week from now if I read those words I will laugh).  But we are somewhat settled for now.  We have (mostly) clean cars.  I am not sure why that was what I felt really needed to happen this weekend, but kudos to the Blue Lagoon car wash on Shawnee Mission Parkway, where you pay one fee and get run through the wash line and then unlimited vacuum time with these crazy great vaccums that I loved.  Me in all my glorious 9 month-ness vacuuming away.  It felt good.

We have talked with Ruby about "sister" coming.  We initially taught her "sister's" name, but then stopped reminding her, when we realized that she was entirely capable of remembering and informing strangers of said name.  We (me) have anxiously watched her these last few weeks adjusting to changes.  We (me) have bought her presents to be given her at the hospital, new shoes, a fridge full of food from Trader Joe's because it seemed necessary to know that she had organic grapes, little clementines, mini cheese cracker sandwiches and one can of black beans while we are at the hospital.  And kudos to Trader Joe's because when the check out lady asked me when I was having this baby, and I told her tomorrow, she whooped and hollered and had one of the other workers give me a bouquet of flowers, and just made me and my girl feel so special.

I have told Matt every night that I think the baby will come that night.  I have told co-workers that I am ready.  But truth is, I am scared.  Of mommy-ing two girls.  Of labor.  Of these early days and weeks and months when life is surreal.  Of Matt and I moving from a powerplay of 2 on 1 to man-to-man defense (I definitely had to google "powerplay" since not only could I not remember the hockey term, but I almost couldn't remember my debit card password at the store today).

I used to babysit one day a week in college for a four-year-old little guy; his mom gave me the best advice when I graduated, as I was about to move part way across the country.  She told me to take the fear I held, and turn it into the belief that this would be an adventure.  Good stuff, Mrs. Frye.  I still think about it 12 years later.

I love October more and more every year, remembering meeting Matt, Ruby's birthday, and now this sweet pea's.  Part of me feels like maybe I shouldn't be blogging all this, since now I may get unwanted texts and phone calls, or since now you KNOW the baby is coming, and like it might put extra pressure on me.  But that's not what this blog is for.  It is where I sit down, when my daughter is sleeping, and put words down because it's the only way for me to process sometimes.

So whether it's next week (ha ha) or month or after Christmas, I can't wait to tell you about the next 24 hours.  And now I am going to go drink a Dr. Pepper because I can, and glory in it, because tomorrow a nurse will tell me that I can't eat until I produce a baby:)