Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Life as a House

Yesterday, my darling little boy looked innocently into my eyes and called me a walking house.

To his credit, he did say "walking." Waddling, shuffling, or, let's be honest, stationary would have been more apropos. At just one day shy of my due date, I definitely feel as big as a house. Jack pushed on my non-existent belly button (the "door bell") and called loudly to the baby, "Hello! Is anybody in there? It's time to come out now!" He then pretended to open the window (aka my mouth) to see if he could spot the squatter in apartment 1A. Unfortunately, the tenant shows no signs of vacating the premises.

It's time to go, kid. For seriously.

I've always been kind of annoyed by women who complain about still being pregnant before their actual due date. I mean, 40 weeks is just an average. It's not like we need to start downing castor oil at 37 weeks. But I'm starting to understand where they're coming from. Jack showed up exactly one week early, which was perfect because John was finishing up finals for grad school and if he'd debuted any earlier, things could have gotten a bit tricky. Not to mention he was due on Christmas day, so a slightly early arrival was preferable.

This baby, on the other hand, seems perfectly content to stay in his current residence permanently. I know all women feel this way when they're at the end of their pregnancy, and I won't actually be pregnant forever (and once this kid does show up, I'll probably wish he was back in there, where at least I didn't have to hear him cry or change his diaper a zillion times a day). A word to the wise, however: don't Google "longest pregnancy ever." 375 days, my friends. Information that does not make a full-term pregnant lady feel any better about her situation.

Jack asked me yesterday if the baby is watching TV in there. I assured him that wasn't the case, but now I can't help imagining this baby as a lazy lump enjoying a Game of Thrones marathon while he waits for his next meal to be delivered on a tray. So kid, this is your official eviction notice. Grammy is here to look after your big brother, Daddy is finished with work, and Mommy has hosted you for long enough. There's a whole big world out here, and we can't wait to meet you!


L-S-E said...

I feeeeel your pain! Just a few days shy of my due date as well, and I am counting down the seconds. Maybe these boys will decide to make their debut on the same day :)

Rachel Schieffelbein said...

The end is so hard. My #4 went nine days late, and weighed 10 pounds, 10 ounces! So I know the 'house' feeling pretty well. ;)
Just remember, it will all be worth it very soon! :)