People keep asking me if I'm nervous about childbirth. And I can confidently say no...I'm actually pretty excited! We finished our childbirth class last night, so I now feel very empowered and prepared. I mean, yes, it's going to hurt. Duh. It's a seven pound human being coming out of your...you know. But our bodies were made for this!

So I look at it more like a challenge. I'm really excited to see how well I can do. And anyone who knows me knows that I HATE losing. I HATE IT! So I'm excited to see how it goes, and David's prepared now (thanks to our class) to help me win! And so far in life (all two and a half years that we've known each other), we've made a pretty kick-butt team.

I do have a few fears. I'm afraid the baby won't be healthy. I think that's a natural fear, and there's obviously nothing I can do about it. I'm afraid that I'll stop breathing or my heart will stop or something. Weird and kind of irrational, but I have this breathing thing. I'm so scared of suffocating, all the time. So the practice breathing part of the childbirth class? Actually not that good for me. Made me feel like I was hyperventilating. And I'm afraid that interventions will be necessary. I don't want that. I want to do it myself, and I plan to. But there are times when interventions are medically indicated, and I will be disappointed if that's the case.

But then, of course, it's win-win. Because I still get to be a mama in the end, and that's what I'm REALLY REALLY REALLY looking forward to!

The other day I went to meet David on his lunch break at the bank downtown so we could take care of some stuff for our construction business. So I drove the dinky little gray truck down the crowded main drag, and of course at lunch time it's wicked busy and there are very few parking spots. Except wait...bingo! There was one right across the street from the bank. A little tight, yes, and I definitely do NOT know proper parallel parking technique, but I figured I'd nose in and jimmy it like 95 times until I got close enough to the curb.

I pulled in, so excited to find a spot so close. Just a little bit further in, and BOOM! I hit the car in front of me. It was a huge fancy luxury SUV. And it was tricked out and shiny and blingy. Fortunately, I didn't hit it hard at all. UNfortunately, the driver was sitting in it. And he got out. And again UNfortunately, he was a very frightening, expensively-dressed thug. Literally a thug. Maybe a gang-member too.



He got out and looked at his bumper, rubbed his shiny license plate, grunted a little, kept rubbing and inspecting...

A lady walking down the street must have said something accusatory to him, because he looked at her and got huffy and said, "Nawww, man, she crashed me."

All the while, I was sitting with the tail end of the truck poking way out into traffic, and not really knowing what to do.

Gangsta looked at me and said, "You gotta get out."

I looked at Gangsta with a big lump in my throat and said meekly, "I need to find a place to park where I'm not blocking traffic."

He said, "You gotta pull up nexta me and back it in."

I looked at him and said, "I don't think I can do that without hitting anything." (Nothing shuts someone up like a good dose of honesty)

He kind of looked at me and then said, "I'll pull forward. Don't crash me again."

"I'll try not to." I really did say that.

So he pulled forward and then stayed in his car. I jimmyed into the spot and was scared out of my pants so I called Dave and said, "Ummmmm, I'm here but I crashed into the guy in front of me while I was parking and he's very scary. If you're here you should come defend me."

But Dave wasn't there yet.

So now Gangsta and I are both sitting in our cars. I didn't know what to do. Was I done? Should I get out and go to the bank? But if he didn't agree that I was done, then I might get popped, you know? Was I supposed to call the cops and report an accident or something? Or should I hold up a sign with my insurance card?

It was very strange, and I was very scared.

After sitting a few minutes, I finally got up the gumption to go up to his open window and say, with my voice cracking (yes, it's true), "Do you want my insurance or anything?" As he looked my very pregnant self up and down, I looked past him at the two or three additional gangstas sharing his ride. His posse. Eeeeeeeek!

"Naaaawwwh..." he said.

"Ummmm...so we're good?" I said, backing away. "I'm really sorry about that. We're good?"

He nodded a little bit.

I walked over to the bank, shaking the whole way, and didn't look back. I was sure that if I looked I would see our truck being smashed or slashed or picked up and carried away.

After sitting in the bank for a half our waiting for Loretta the banker to take care of all our paperwork, I realized that in my terror I had forgotten to pay the meter.

I've seen better days.

I have resolved to keep this blog more up-to-date.

Why, you ask?

Thanks for your interest.

Because I realized how much has changed since my last, and only, post.

We moved. From sweet, beautiful, quaint, unique Round Lake to dirty, crowded, stinky, unbeautiful Schenectady. It's like switching from Wegman's to Price Chopper (for the New Yorkers in the crowd), or homemade strawberry crepes to Eggos, for the rest of you. Really a downgrade, in our book. We love space and country and quiet and unused air. Our windows are literally nine feet from our neighbors' windows, and we share our porch, basement, attic, garage, and driveway with our landlord, whose floor is our ceiling. Not ideal. Some people love Schenectday. City people. People who like the sirens and the fact that you don't need a porch light (good thing -- ours doesn't work) because the streetlight illuminates not only your porch, but your entire living room all night. Some people like the 3x5 foot patch of grass they call a front lawn. Much less maintenance required. Not us. If you look at our profile, you'll understand why.



Last weekend we strapped on our packs and bushwhacked to a rocky peak (a very short hike, and a very small peak...I'm very pregnant). We figure it will be the last camping trip before the kid comes to join us, and it was phenomenal. Off-trail hiking means you don't see anyone else. And there's not evidence of anyone -- no fire pits, no garbage, no footprints, no voices. It was really a fantastic time together. Dave has been working his pants off...at his regular job during the day, and running our own little business at night. Almost every evening has been booked for him lately, and in fact, right now (on a Saturday...vomit) he is out working all day. So it was really a treat to spend two full days with him out in the middle of nowhere!

The other big change is that I'm now 35 weeks pregnant. For those who don't know, a typical pregnancy is actually 40 weeks (not the commonly-heard 9 months). So that means in about five weeks my gigantic, unsightly belly (stretch marks are NOT photogenic) will become a crying, pooping, eating machine. We are SOOOO excited!



I'm going to try to post some pictures now, taken by Becky, who is the most terrific oldest sister ever and who flew out here to hang out with us and throw me a baby shower. Wish me luck with this. I'm still new.