Saturday, April 26, 2008
Saturday, April 19, 2008
While I hoped I'd be writing the story of your birth by now or that, at a minimum, you'd be on your way out today, you're already refusing to listen to your mother and have decided to take your precious time in vacating my uterus.
Don't get me wrong, thus far it's been pretty darn easy carrying you around and I've actually enjoyed the freak-like nature of of my belly as little knees and feet poke out, but the doctor insists that unless you make an appearance soon, she's going to forcefully evict you and, honestly, that's no fun for either of us. So get the hell out. Seriously.
Your nursery is finally done and I must say, it's pretty bad ass. The star wars bedding is complete, your dad's vision of the perfect mobile is in place, even the little finishing touches are ready for your arrival.
While I'm not crazy about you being born on a day dubbed the 'stoner holiday' I'm quite certain I'll learn to live with it. After all, I did marry your father who plays the drums in a band for a living and travels around the country in a stinky bus and that didn't work out so badly. So what do you think? Tomorrow sound like a good day to be born? I sure hope so.
Can't wait to meet you little guy.