My mom is here to help out with the squallers.
I've got most of the baby stuff done, and holiday stuff too.
The house is mostly ready, except for the laundry which I am trying to get completely done as I don't want anyone else touching it while I'm in the hospital (a documented neurosis, hopefully everyone will understand this time that I really do fucking mean it). Oh, and the office closet is a mess, but I've been ignoring it for three years and don't have a problem with tackling it post-partum. It's not a priority.
Turns out I didn't do anything with my Carfe Prisse store. The ideas I was considering have already been done, sort of. And as I was mostly thinking of them as present designs anyhow, I've simply ordered the existing items for the kids in question.
I didn't write a story as a holiday gift to torment all the kids with this year. Perhaps I'll write one for Iz's birthday. Most of the kids still got something home made, although much goofier and simpler than a book. Oh well.
Mostly I've been spacing through the last few days, working working working on nesting crap, and considering at each junction--dropping Leelo off at school, picking Iz up from school, taking Leelo to OT, just getting out of the car or getting the kids snacks or going up or down the stairs if I've forgotten something--how much more complicated each task will be with a tiny one in tow. On the flip side, I am grateful for the ease with which such tasks get accomplished in the here and now.
Also, I worry. Several of my friends have experienced horror and catastrophes in or right after leaving the hospital. I won't elaborate because already I am freaking myself out. But know that I take no step in this for granted, that I qualify everything with "if all goes well, then," but that I am still excited and am hoping for the best.
OB appointment tomorrow morning at 9:40. Will I make it? Lots more Braxton-Hicks today.