There she blows!
That's the belly at thirty six weeks. I am so beyond ready for this baby to be here already! Gone is the whole relishing in the euphoric, my body is a glorious miracle bit. What has taken priority is a desperate infatuation with getting to sleep in any position other than my sides again. And a lust for the ability to be able to bend over at will. And to run... oh-my-goodness! To run again!
Last night I took the belly (and the husband) to a white party at Tony Parker's Nueve Lounge and while I was standing there, sipping my just-tonic-and-lime and feeling morbidly out of place, I thought to myself that this little kiddo has had one wicked-sweet gestational ride - the Sundance Film Festival; the glorious white beaches of South Walton County; the glam of Miami; the swank, once-in-a-lifetime partay with the ghost of Versace at the extravagant Versace Mansion on South Beach; the art and culture of South Korea; tasting his very first pig intestine . . . and now this white party, and later this week Bob Shneider and possibly Joe Cocker.
And I thought to myself, either this kid is going to be a square or he's going to live his life topping what he accomplished while still in the womb. And that, my friends, is kind-of a scary thought for me. Because in all honesty, I'm a little terrified of raising a little dude. Especially my husband's little dude.
You see, my husband is the one of seven who stuck a pair of scissors in the electrical socket. The one of seven who swelled to the size of a Veruca Salt blueberry after having been stung by a nest of bees. The one who got an ax stuck in his skull. The one who sees no danger, just a challenge and probably most definitely a helluva good time. Which I don't fault him for at all. Because it's definitely one of the reasons I married him. I mean, that one time that, on a whim - a "surprise date," he called it - he forced me to jump out of a plane with nothing but a piece of fabric balled up into a knapsack on my back? That totally sealed the deal for me.
So here's to hoping baby fuschia is a square just like his daddy!