Here in the last month leading up to baby Rimbo's impending impact, things are relatively normal with Angie and I, but there are tiny signals popping up everywhere that something will change soon.
Par example: There's a car seat in my car. THERE IS A CAR SEAT. IN MY CAR.
I realize that a lot of people wait until . . . later in the ninth month to take up so much space in their backseats. But excitement + boredom + a lot of free time = a car seat. That's just science. I thoroughly cleaned the Ion out with a vacuum and everything, lest our child catch diphtheria from loose change and old french fries. I finally got the thing in -- it was way less complicated than its reputation led me to believe, and I think I over-thought it. Those little anchor things in newer cars are a godsend. After I was convinced it was secure (enough), I sort of stood back and said/thought, ". . . whoa." One month to go. Showtime.
Packing a hospital bag is a whole 'nother animal. I have packed many bags in my time. I travel a lot. But what do you pack when you could be leaving at any moment? How do you get bathroom stuff ready when you still might need to use it every day? I realize that things don't happen like they do in the movies, with panic and drama, but I want to be prepared . . . after all, you never know. One month seems like a long time, but when I say, "we're 36 weeks pregnant," that's totally different. It seems imminent.
And the baby's room is getting crowded, too. Our friends threw Angie a shower last weekend, and we have all sorts of cute clothes and toys and books . . . still a little short on the practicality end, but it is a Rimbo, after all. Still, I'd be ok welcoming the peanut home today, if we had to. (I bet Angie would be ok with that, too, but I'll leave that for her to say.) All this unpacking and opening and arranging is kind of a nesting thing, and it feels good.
We've been going to the doctor weekly now, and everything is looking healthy. The little heartbeat thing says, "wowowowowowow."
So now we're watching Juno, one of our favorites. Sometimes Angie thinks it's funny when I do my Jennifer Garner impression: "Can you hear me baybeeee?"