another insomniac post, which brings us to how many now?
I wish I could bottle some of this wakefulness for when the baby comes and I'll need it.
I am 37 weeks pregnant, and if you've been in my shoes – which are flip-flops because that is the only footwear into which I can cram my feet, which are swollen like popovers – you know what that means. It means I am officially full term, so I could go into labor at any moment, or still be pregnant a month from now. It's a weird waiting game.
Until recently I've been complacently confident that Baby Brother, like his big sister before him, will almost certainly be late. On time at best. But recently, I've begun to get some inklings that this baby might actually come early. And, uncomfortable as I am with all my late-pregnancy aches and pains, and as eager to get that pesky business of having the baby over with so I can actually meet this squirmy little person who's been taking up increasingly greedy amounts of my internal real estate, I really don't want the baby to come early. Are you listening, Baby Brother? Please don't come too soon! Because I need my month of June!
Because I am desperately trying to finish a book. Writing one, that is. The manuscript consists of my 10-year-old master's thesis, to which I need to add a host of updates and revisions, and this month – this month only! – I have the incredible luxury of being able to work on it full-time. The past couple weeks, I've been on a roll, and if I can continue at this feverish clip, I think I can finish by my self-imposed deadline of the end of the month. If no cataclysmic life events intervene.
It's not too much to ask, is it, that Baby Brother should come not too late (so I can avoid the dreaded pitocin drip this time) and not too soon (so I can put my right-brain cares away, or more accurately lob them into my editor's court, and just enjoy this boy when he gets here)? I feel like I should make a Goldilocks joke here but I am too tapped out to think of a good one... maybe you can.
On a related tangent, I got the best mail this week. For the work I'm doing on my manuscript, I decided I needed to have my own copy of a book that I had had on indefinite library loan when I was a grad student. The book is out of print, so I ordered it from an online used bookseller, which for me, as a person who is picky about books, is always a bit of a crapshoot in which I weigh the price of the book versus what little information about the edition, condition, etc. I can glean from the seller's (often unhelpful) description. The only edition of the book I ever knew was that borrowed grad school copy, which had a plain blue library binding, so imagine my delight when I opened a manila mailer the other day and found this:
It's the little things in life, I tell you. I keep this beside me even when I'm not actively referring to it because just looking at the cover makes me happy.
And, although I've severely curtailed almost all non-book-related activities lately (now you know why I haven't been around here, or your blog, or Flickr much), I did drop by the thrift store that is on my way home from my neighborhood library (how conveeeen-ient!) and bring this home recently... because another serving bowl is just what my household needs... not. But it's a slightly different size than the rest of our bowls, J pointed out, and has already put it to use. Good man.
I am 37 weeks pregnant, and if you've been in my shoes – which are flip-flops because that is the only footwear into which I can cram my feet, which are swollen like popovers – you know what that means. It means I am officially full term, so I could go into labor at any moment, or still be pregnant a month from now. It's a weird waiting game.
Until recently I've been complacently confident that Baby Brother, like his big sister before him, will almost certainly be late. On time at best. But recently, I've begun to get some inklings that this baby might actually come early. And, uncomfortable as I am with all my late-pregnancy aches and pains, and as eager to get that pesky business of having the baby over with so I can actually meet this squirmy little person who's been taking up increasingly greedy amounts of my internal real estate, I really don't want the baby to come early. Are you listening, Baby Brother? Please don't come too soon! Because I need my month of June!
Because I am desperately trying to finish a book. Writing one, that is. The manuscript consists of my 10-year-old master's thesis, to which I need to add a host of updates and revisions, and this month – this month only! – I have the incredible luxury of being able to work on it full-time. The past couple weeks, I've been on a roll, and if I can continue at this feverish clip, I think I can finish by my self-imposed deadline of the end of the month. If no cataclysmic life events intervene.
It's not too much to ask, is it, that Baby Brother should come not too late (so I can avoid the dreaded pitocin drip this time) and not too soon (so I can put my right-brain cares away, or more accurately lob them into my editor's court, and just enjoy this boy when he gets here)? I feel like I should make a Goldilocks joke here but I am too tapped out to think of a good one... maybe you can.
On a related tangent, I got the best mail this week. For the work I'm doing on my manuscript, I decided I needed to have my own copy of a book that I had had on indefinite library loan when I was a grad student. The book is out of print, so I ordered it from an online used bookseller, which for me, as a person who is picky about books, is always a bit of a crapshoot in which I weigh the price of the book versus what little information about the edition, condition, etc. I can glean from the seller's (often unhelpful) description. The only edition of the book I ever knew was that borrowed grad school copy, which had a plain blue library binding, so imagine my delight when I opened a manila mailer the other day and found this:
It's the little things in life, I tell you. I keep this beside me even when I'm not actively referring to it because just looking at the cover makes me happy.
And, although I've severely curtailed almost all non-book-related activities lately (now you know why I haven't been around here, or your blog, or Flickr much), I did drop by the thrift store that is on my way home from my neighborhood library (how conveeeen-ient!) and bring this home recently... because another serving bowl is just what my household needs... not. But it's a slightly different size than the rest of our bowls, J pointed out, and has already put it to use. Good man.
posted by angelique at 12:53 PM
5 Comments:
i hope you can cross your legs long enough to finish your book!
Flip flops are the only thing for pregnant feet. :-) Hope you get the book done and baby comes that night. Looks like an interesting book and thesis. I've always been distantly interested in community planning. I liked the book "geography of nowhere" a lot.
wicked cute book. wicked cute bowl. i always say "convenient" that same way.
good luck w/timing (and book finishing and baby birthing). can't wait to hear some big news over here.
xoxo
Ooh, get that book done! Go, go!
Every time I see a new post I think it's gonna be the baby one.
hey you. not long now - I'm barracking in your corner. baby will be most pleased to have an esteemed authoress as his mum.
Thinkin' of ya!
xx
Post a Comment
<< Home