Guess what? I'm not in labor.

No matter what I do, everyone thinks I'm in labor. If I call my parents, they think I'm in labor. If I take too long to respond to an e-mail, the sender thinks I must be in labor. If I don't post on Facebook for a few days, all my Facebook friends think I'm in labor.

I'm not in labor.

I WISH I was in labor.

This whole "waiting around" thing is starting to drive me batty. Although it has been GREAT having some time not technically on "bed rest" to get out and enjoy the nice fall air and do some shopping and actually have a meal or two out with my husband, I'm now officially ready to have this baby. And this is from someone who genuinely loves being pregnant (I do, I love it).

I've actually been having some really mixed emotions over the birth of this baby. Because. Well. I'm not going to ever be pregnant again. I think that's been decided. This pregnancy has been too scary (and expensive, and has basically turned our lives upside down for the last 5 months). And we always wanted a boy and a girl, which we'll now have. So. Probably no more babies for us. Which makes me a little sad, because I do so totally love the whole experience of it. There are no words to describe having a tiny little person hanging out in your belly. Even if some days (like today) it feels like that little person's feet are lodged in your ribs.

But in terms of labor, nada yet! Although I am definitely dealing with a LOT of "practice contractions" - but that's been going on for weeks now. Next Sunday I'll be 38 weeks and considered "full term," although she's definitely fully cooked and can come on out any time now. Yesterday I even went for a pedicure with cousin Lauren at the SAME PLACE where I went into labor with Owen (while getting a pedicure), thinking/hoping it would have the same results. No luck.

But she's free to hang out in there until 40 weeks if she wants. Hell, she can even go to 41 before I really start freaking out about birthing 10 pound babies. I am excited to give birth to a baby that doesn't sleep for the first 6 weeks of her life! Owen was so early I swear he only opened his eyes like 5 times in the first 6 weeks.

Speaking of my monkey (who, by the way, retorts: "I'm not a MONKEY, I'm a PRESCHOOLER" whenever I use that particular term of endearment these days), here's a shot that daycare sent me of him having ice cream with Papa at the Grandparents Day Ice Cream Social last week. Mostly I just love this photo because I wonder how long my dad sat in a chair meant for a 3-year-old's butt.

Papa was (and is always) a big hit with all the kids - even sticking around for an hour to hang out on the playground after the ice cream was all eaten up. Its no wonder he is Owen's favorite person (I seriously sometimes think he out-ranks me and Eric). Thanks for being so awesome, Papa!