Return to Craic

Jed's right. Ok? I concede. And anyone (anyone!) who has talked to me in that past, oh, month or so will wholeheartedly agree--I am 100% baby-crazy. I just can't help myself. He kindly didn't mention the part about me spending at least 3 or 4 hours a day on babycenter.com...talking to other equally nutso moms-to-be about inane pregnancy complaints and hopes and fears. Or that I own no fewer than 15 books on pregnancy (although now I've moved on to manuals and guides for labor and delivery, and have even gone so far as to buy a book on how to get your infant to sleep through the night).

-I'm sorry, you wanted to have a conversation about YMCA membership? Ah, well, as soon as the beast is born, I'm all over that personal training to get back in shape!
-What? You have an opinion about the war? Well, speaking of the war, gas prices are really high and I'm going to have to cart this baby all over town.
-Telling me about your new and much-loved job? Hmm..I'm thinking of getting into writing, after the baby and I have settled in, of course. And that is obviously also contingent on getting some part-time help with him.

See what I mean? It's entirely out of control, and while I was at first mildly irritated my Fufi's joking (yeah, he's joking, but he's not!) rant, as I read it for the second time, I realized just how far over the edge of sanity I'm leaning.
Apparently, though, it's normal, especially this late in the game. And who can really blame me? I mean, I've had a virtual alien growing in my belly for SIX full months, gotta cut me a little slack when my thoughts inevitably stray to his imminent arrival in the outside world. Plus (now listen to this reasoning--it makes all sorts of sense to me), what other things do I really have to think of...I mean, it's not as if I'm sitting around planning my next big Saturday night, or pining for a beach getaway, or worrying about what badass new Juicy dress to wear to O. Get my meaning? Pregnancy, like it or not, for better or for worse, is THE central event in my life right now.

But--in the midst of all this mad cow disease--I'm still ever hopeful for a quasi-return to life as I knew it. Now, I'm very much aware that nothing will ever be the same. (People seem to have this bizarre need to keep reminding me of that, to which I'm like, "Oh, really? Well, I was just planning on strapping the little guy to the Baby Bjorn with one hand, the other on a martini, and heading out to 221. What? They don't let infants in?") On the other hand, I'm convinced that things are only going to be BETTER! And I can't wait to throw a sun hat on Picard, grab some margarita mix, and head out to the pool. Whenever the naysayers make me feel like baby = end 'o' life, I look at these pictures, and remind myself that there will, indeed, be a return to the craic.