Rip Van Tinkle

So, the ticker says 15 days to go.

Mostly, internet, the late third trimester is going much better than I thought it would. I feel all right when I'm awake, but I am tired all the time--I went to bed at midnightish last night, and then slept until 11 this morning. Oy. I did wake up around four a.m. to pee, and unlike the night's three other pee breaks, for some reason I couldn't get back to sleep again for an hour or so.

This keeps happening--I think when I wake up and fall back asleep, it resets my body clock somehow, and I sleep a whole night's worth before I wake up. But I can't be doing this, really--I have things to do. Do you hear that, circadian rhythms? Things to do.

Basically, I've got three urgent issues to deal with in the next few days: Finishing work, getting ready for Christmas, and ... you know ... this whole baby birth thing. Which could happen ANY MINUTE NOW or else, maybe, not until next year. So that's inconvenient.

Finishing work: I don't really like to blog about work details here. But let it be known that I have some. And they are unfinished.

Among other things, my department has been located in a temporary building for the last year, while our usual offices are being renovated. Inconveniently, the move back is happening over this winter break. So after I finish everything else, I also need to pack up my office and get it ready for moving. Before Tuesday. Using a body that is currently eight and a half months pregnant.

And it's one of those things I really can't outsource. Who else but me is qualified to sort through six years' worth of receipts and gum wrappers and business cards and pennies and whatever else is in my desk? Nobody, that's who.

Getting ready for Christmas: Mr. Newt put the lights and ornaments on the Christmas tree this morning while I was getting my beauty sleep. I know this is supposed to be a heartwarming family activity we do together, but I'm just SO GLAD it's done. I wonder if Mr. Newt can do all the other heartwarming Christmas tasks without me? There are lots more traditions I wouldn't mind sleeping through. Or skipping altogether. I just don't have the Christmas spirit.

Thankfully, shopping isn't an issue. My family has, for the past few years, been making donations to a family-chosen organization in lieu of gifts for the adults. This is, for the record, just about the best thing my family has ever decided to do. It's fun, it's easy, no shopping, no fuss, no carrying gifts on airplanes, no guilt about returning something that a loved one bought for you. It's also nice that by combining our budgets, we can make a pretty big donation somewhere, rather than little scattershot efforts.

Less altruistically, this year I'm particularly grateful for that new tradition, as I'm in no shape to shop. Unfortunately, I'm also in no shape to do the ten thousand other things I should do before Mr. Newt's family starts arriving Tuesday, including cleaning the house, washing the dogs, and figuring out what to feed ten omnivores for four days.

I don't know what other vegetarians do when meat-eaters come to visit--do you just feed them what you usually eat? ("Hi guys! Have some tofu pops!"). Seriously, I can't really feed my father-in-law tofu pops.

Or do you invite them to cook for themselves? ("Hi guys! The kitchen's all yours! I'll be in the other room reading People Magazine and eating tofu pops!")

I feel like a lousy hostess either way.

Getting ready for baby: Sigh.

Well, the only real progress on this front is that we took a breastfeeding basics class at the hospital Thursday night, which was a tremendous help. I'm honestly still a little creeped out by the whole thing, but learning about the plumbing of breastfeeding (rather than hearing over and over again how orgasmically satisfying it is to feed your baby with your breasts) helped a lot. I think I need a mantra I can repeat to myself through the whole process to keep the heebie-jeebies at bay, maybe something like "It's just plumbing." Suggestions welcome.

Unfortunately, the hospital bag is still not packed. Also, if this baby were born tomorrow, he wouldn't have anyplace to sleep, anything to wear, any diapers for his little butt, or a car seat to come home in. Even though I'm full term, feel great, and have no reason to worry about the baby's well-being, the baby procrastination is absolutely the product of lingering miscarriage anxiety. Absolutely.

Here's where I hit the wall: I am afraid that taking the tags off of baby clothes so I can wash them will jinx this entire precarious reproductive enterprise. I've made it through 37 weeks, hyperemesis gravidarum, a lost twin, elevated MSAFP, eight doctors, and I don't even know how many ultrasounds, but when I get crazy enough to take the TAGS off the BABY CLOTHES, I just know that's when the shit is going to hit the fan. I just know it.

Oh, also, if I went into labor right now, the dogs would starve while we are away, since we don't have a sitter arranged. If caring for dogs is good practice for babies, I think poor Wiley is completely screwed. Completely. Screwed.

And, right now, so am I. Just thinking about all this makes me kind of tired, actually.