On and on and on

Dear Little Daughter of Mine,

You have the best of everything waiting for you:

a super loving family

the coolest of baby toys

the gentlest pets

a closet full of the cutest clothes

hand-stitched quilts and hello kitties

and everything else a little girl could ask for.

So come on out whenever you're ready cause your due date has come and gone, and I can't wait to hold you in my arms.

Love,

Mom

P.S. If you ever wonder if your dad loves you- know this: he read the instructions. For you, the knowing-it-all-est man alive followed all the directions in the manual for putting together your things to make absolutely certain he put everything together just right to protect your tiny toes and fingers. That's looooove.

On Names

Almost none of my paintings have proper names, so I end up referring to them by the subject followed by the medium, but this one has a name

 (because Peter named it): 

The Creepy Tree I don't really think it's that creepy though. I suppose if I'd used a different color scheme it would have conveyed an entirely different sentiment while still expressing a complicated/solitary subject.

 ------------------------Post Edit/ more hormone induced crankiness------------------

If a pregnant woman tells you what she has decided will definitely be her child's name, please, for the love of all that is rolly, DON"T proceed to tell her about everyone you know with the same name, what you think of all those name-sharing folks, every possible nickname and how you think it should be spelled.   Sure, outwardly the pregnant woman might smile and nod and say "how interesting" but inside she is a bear and you are a hiker with a backpack full of granola and honey.

On the phone

I recently googled "What I wish someone had told me before I went into labor" hoping to find some nugget of knowledge that would help me in some way. Unfortunately, all I found was trivia that, well, lets face it, the moms who'd written really SHOULD have already known. Come on, people- you have 9 months to read up on this stuff!

Something I would like to share with the general pregnant population is this:

Turn off your cell phone,

because, in your last week your phone will look like this: and every message/ call will be the exact same, and you will want to, but not be able to, say the exact same things over and over and over:

Hiiii! Have you had the baby yet? 

Nope, not yet

How are you feeling?

Awesome, thanks! (aside from the excruciating back pain, swollen feet, nausea, headaches and insomnia)

What did your doctor say?

She'll be born when she's ready. (Actually, that's a summation of a twenty minute conversation about my cervix).

Anything I can do to help out?

Nope, we're completely ready, when she is. (But feel free to come over and cook dinner without judging me for wearing the hideous pineapple print housedress I bought in the caribbean for about the millionth day in a row.)

Well, make sure you call me when you go into labor!

Absolutely! (Because I definitely want to be annoyed when I'm trying to have a baby).

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So, really, the bottom line is, turn off your cell phone during the last week of pregnancy. You'll avoid a whole bunch of aggravation, and you won't feel compelled to return the gazillion missed calls/ messages because really, the people who call during that last week can be split into two groups: and those who really need to talk to you will find other ways that doesn't involve driving you crazy.

----------------------POST EDIT-------------------------

 I don't know if this is how it is for everyone, but Pregnancy week #40 finds me exhausted, in pain, swollen from head to toes, and just generally super duper cranky. Why do so many people want to chat with such a miserable creature?