36 Weeks.

I’m 36 weeks pregnant. My body is pretty much begging for mercy at this point. Up until about a week ago, I was telling people that I needed every day I could possibly get before Penelope was born because I didn’t feel ready to deal, and that I hoped she didn’t arrive early. 

But then. 

All of the sudden.
 

I went from pretty miserable to BEYOND UNCOMFORTABLE and I’m ready for her to get out. My pregnancy buddy (who was also pregnant with her third child) had her son last week, three weeks early, and now I am insanely jealous that she gets to hold her baby instead of feeling his bones grind against hers every time she bends over to pick something up. This probably won’t happen to me, early delivery. I’ll likely carry this baby every single one of the 280 days that 40 weeks of pregnancy entails, as my skin continues to stretch into oblivion.

But you know … there’s Asher, my sweet, sweet boy, who is soon to be ousted from his position as baby of the family to forgotten middle child. He’s only 20 months old, but he knows something is UP. I keep finding him looking at a book we have in our house called “Baby On The Way.”

And he keeps doing this:
 

 And looking at me like this:


And it makes me feel a whole bunch of things. First of all, no one is allowed to make him the “forgotten middle child.” I will make sure of it, and probably cause a lot of damage in the process. Also, I’m worried he is about to go from being my sweet, sweet boy to some sort of hellion I don’t know what to do with. Becoming the middle child might ruin him, and that would be devastating.

Thirdly, for Asher’s sake, I hope his sister doesn’t arrive for exactly 27 more days. June 14. And maybe a little bit for my sake too, because today I tried my hardest to soak up all of the sweetness I could from my sons and I felt like I couldn’t get enough of them. I wanted to stop time. Which is a feeling very unfamiliar to me. I never feel like that. Ever. My days are typically so long that sometimes it feels like some kind of torture, and when people tell me to “enjoy every moment” I want to say “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?! MY MOMENTS DRAG ON FOR ETERNITY!”  

But not today.

Today, even with the fits and the crying and the frustration that comes with parenting a 4-year-old and a toddler, I really soaked them in. I have two wonderful kids. None of us are perfect, but I don’t say enough how happy I am to be their mother. I don’t know what kind of shit is about to hit the fan in my house, but right now — despite the fact that I can’t take a full breath or sleep more than 2 hours in a row at night without getting a leg cramp or having to get up and pee — everything is good.

Let’s keep it that way, family. 27 more days, give or take. Let’s finish strong.
  

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