One of the reasons, aside from my general penchant for worrying incessantly, that I wanted to find out the sex of this baby was so that I could be prepared. With all the stuff.
Because I was in such a hurry to leave babyhood and the mania it caused me behind, I tended to whisk away things I was no longer needing. Somewhat carelessly. Then I moved. I have some idea where baby clothes are, but the hand me down crib, while still functioning, was a bit rickety and is now in pieces and I'm not sure I have all the brackets in one place. The Pack N Play, also donated, got somewhat messed up in a mad dash to put away up in the attic before we showed the house on a moments notice. I was never able to fold it up again and it made it's way to the trash. I'm starting to regret my short-sightedness now. Back then I found one baby so overwhelming I didn't think I'd ever want to have another. But I didn't think about what if I did.
So here I am, gripped with that same quasi panic that I had approaching this the first time, wondering what I actually need and how I am going to manage to get it all. At last tally I need a Pack N Play, a double stroller and maybe a new crib. Big ticket items. Even thought I have boy clothes, I have winter newborn baby clothes. Not exactly appropriate for August.
We tried official-stop-with-the-diaper-put-on-those-Diego-underpants potty training on Saturday. It went So. So. Badly. I should have anticipated this. He was so consumed with the change from the diaper to the underwear that I could do nothing while he tore them off shrieking again and again. I KNOW this child. I should have started this in baby steps three months ago so he could get used the sensation of something new on his body. But I didn't. Way to go mom. The full on, flip the switch just isn't going to work for us.
Which OK, it's not the end of the world but I was counting on this going smoothly so I could then tackle the Binky problem. Which now isn't going to happen anytime soon.
So I did what any right minded pregnant woman does on a Saturday afternoon. Sobbed in my car outside the grocery store for a solid twenty minute crying jag. Which helped some, but not that much. Until a good friend reminded me that it was just one day. One day out of at least 112 days until this baby gets here.
Well, 109 as of today.
