Waiting

So tomorrow is the due date.

We have promised to call my mom and his mom after we see the midwives and people are starting to leave really sweet phone messages and emails checking in to see where the baby is, which I have to remember are really sweet and not like the library calling to see where the overdue book is.

I keep thinking there are things I should be doing, and sometimes I make lists of them, but mostly I just nap and think about pie. Here is a place I think about, when I think about pie: Pie. And I also think about this place: Pie. I haven't actually gone to eat any pie. I mostly just think about it, but going to get pie seems too tiring. And then I take another nap, or try to.

But usually while lying in bed, I start to wonder things like "do we have a carbon monoxide detector," and then I can't sleep too well, so instead I goof off on the Internet and read things like this by Sloane Crosley. Which is pretty much exactly what I think I thought my grown-up life would be like when I was 18, and it's continually surprising to me that instead my list of clothing for the week consists of "Maternity shirt from Target sale rack. Lone pair of pants that still fits." I read this collection of essays that my sister-in-law gave me and most of them (both the working and stay-at-home moms) began with a description of how fashionable and high powered the women were in their pre-baby lives, and I just kept thinking "Crap. If I don't wear high heels now, that means I'm never wearing high heels, right?"

To be fair, I think it'd be easier if my name were Sloane Crosley. I think if that's your name, you just get handed the wardrobe at birth. Which is another thing I will not be providing my child, although the carbon monoxide detector did come in the mail today.