Tonight is our last night sleeping by the sea. Vacation is almost over and reality is calling my name with ever-increasing volume.
It’s a persistent little bugger.
The best realization of our vacation is that I’m OK going back to reality. That may seem silly, but I’ve often had vacations where I just wanted to cry at the thought of packing up and moving out. This one, I’m glad to be going home… and considering the list of items waiting to be done once we get home, that’s a pretty amazing concept!
Just a few minutes ago I realized I’m eight months pregnant.
I know, I know, it should be fairly obvious at this point. But I’ve been able to put off the reality of a little one getting ready to turn our lives upside-down. I figured I’d think about it when we got home from vacation.
And that’s now.
We do not have a name picked out. We call the little dude “Bubby” an I’m praying we figure out what to officially name the squirt pretty soon because I’ve heard the state likes to record names on birth certificates at the hospital these days.
I’ve officially begun to dread the c-section. Thank God the natural process of pregnancy moves you to a point where you will do anything to get the child out of your tummy, because if it were up to me right now I’d rather die than deal with a spinal, catheter, and six weeks of post-surgery hesitant movements. That will change.
I’ve also decided to blame my weight gain on the baby rather than my own inability to moderate food intake while on vacation. The baby is on a growth spurt. It made me eat two platters of crab legs for dinner. And two full plates of pasta and potatoes for lunch. And two bowls of oatmeal for breakfast.
OK, fine. I’m just enjoying the food too much. I will work on that when I get home.
How do you feel when your vacation is wrapping up?
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