Waiting...

Good lord, is it just me, or have I been pregnant for, like, two years now?

It feels that way, at least, at two days past the due date and counting. Not that two days is a huge thing, either way. But the waiting is killing me--and I suspect it's sort of annoying to everyone around me, too.

Last time, everything was tidy: the due date was a Friday, and I went to work that day, cleaned everything up, sent a flurry of last emails about the kinds of files that are in my left-hand bottom file cabinet drawer as opposed to in the top right, and that kind of stuff, and then went home. Finished up some yard work, cleaned the house, packed the bags. By Sunday, all that was left was to tie-dye the baby T-shirts we had bought. (Note: I don't actually recommend this. Sure, you end up with cute shirts, but you'll need to hand-wash them so they don't run in the washing machine. And let's face it: you're not going to want to do that, so you're going to end up with a pile of once-worn, adorable T-shirts in the bottom of the laundry hamper for, let's see, at least two-and-a-half years.)

So we tie-dyed through the early stages of labor, and when it got to be time to clean up, I just sort of hunched on the floor, and took a shower, and eventually we went to the hospital, and the baby was out just after midnight on Monday. Not so bad, really.

I sent the same emails last Friday, more or less, expressed my utter confidence in my staff, and waved my way out the door with promises to email any news. I'm sure they were relieved to be left alone.

I've been emailing them ever since, and today on my way back from a midwives' appointment, even stopped in to drop off some manuscripts and pick some other stuff up. This, after a "final" lunch yesterday with my boss--who was, of course, in the office today when I stopped by.

Really: how many significant departures can one fat lady make?

And it's not that I'm not doing work from home, but I feel sort of guilty for packing it in early, not working right up to the end. Even though Friday was supposed to be the end.

I know! How totally lame is that, to feel guilty?

But really, without the original W.B. for most of the day (she's either at school or at Nana's every day), and with only some general editing to do, I feel like I'm on vacation. Which is nice, I guess. It just feels sort of indulgent.

Sarah Palin wins again, I guess. (Just as long as she doesn't win on the 4th, I suppose I can live with that...)

As the original W.B. has been saying to my belly lately: Come out, baby! Come out and play with us!