LilZ was born a million years ago when I was a very naive teenager who didn’t realize her memory would fade with the years. In other words? I have very little memory of the birth process itself. I mean - he came out the normal way after 17+ hours of labor - that much I remember. But the details and the feelings? Have kinda faded. Too bad I wasn’t blogging then.

NikkiZ, while more recent, is still just as faded. If not more so. If you were around here during that time, you know I did a series of blog posts (first one here) doing a play-by-play of the induction process. Up until things went horribly awry and I ended up being wheeled into the OR while crying for my husband fearing for our daughter’s life. IT WAS AWESOME. But - the point? I had been up all night (blogging…of course) and then was cut open and operated on and doped up with morphine. It created quite a haze for my daughter to be born into and I remember very little of it. I read the entries and the birth story and think, “Hmm. Funny. I don’t remember that.”

This time? I’m praying I will walk away with a very clear memory of the events leading up to my son’s birth. I plan on sleeping the night before (even if it requires someone bashing me on the head to knock me out) and I plan on documenting everything either digitally or with pen and paper as it goes on. I have been approaching this entire pregnancy as though it is going to be my last. Partly because we have that nasty habit of repeat miscarriages, but also because we’re not positive we are going to have anymore. So, I really want to make sure I have a good record of what happens the day this child is born. I want at least one of my kids to have the gift of their Mom’s sober and clear memory of their birth.

Or maybe I’ll just ask for the morphine early and just sleep through the entire thing.

I know you’re totally getting sick of me saying, “This is the last time I {insert random event here} before AndyZ gets here!” But…Today is the last Friday before AndyZ gets here! Next Friday I’ll be struggling to walk around a hospital room while recovering from Morphine withdrawal. Yay!

I got to hold Penelope again yesterday. For the few seconds she was in my arms yesterday I could smell what I’ll have in a mere six days. And I got excited. Sometimes with the ins and outs of the daily routine of chasing a toddler and working and running a house - I forget to get excited. I mean - how lucky am I? I’m about to bring my third child into this world. I often talk about how I feel like life has given waaaay more than I deserve considering the black marks from my past - but today? I’m just excited. Another baby. In my arms. IN SIX DAYS.

On a more serious note: I went last night to get some snacks for our campout tonight. I ate them all before I went to bed. Except for one pack of poptarts, which I ate this morning. I am quite proud of myself.

I got the call! I got the call! They made it to our name on the waiting list and we get to camp out at the Botanical Gardens tomorrow night! (Full story here.) She left a message saying I needed to touch base with her and pay over the phone by the end of the business day or else they’d give our spot to someone else. I dropped everything and called and told her she won’t have a more excited camper. They’re also showing a MOVIE there! And we get to fish! And go through the gardens at night! I’M SO EXCITED.

My family - on the other hand - is not. NikkiZ is excited about getting to sleep in her Ariel sleeping bag, and I think she is excited about spending the night at the Botanical Gardens. But LilZ? He’s kinda like, “Eh. Can I take my DVR?” And MrZ is all, “Have fun! See you on Saturday!”

But I can’t think of a more fun way to spend one of my the last nights with the kids before kid #3 arrives. And yeah - I won’t be comfortable - but it’s not like I’m sleeping peacefully through the night in my own bed. I get up and pee 10 times and toss and turn between Braxton-Hicks and baby movements. I might as well be doing that somewhere different, for a change.

Yesterday was a long day. Very long. I found myself running to Target for milk and cereal around 8:30pm. Which - for the record - is waaaay past my bedtime. (What? You don’t go to bed at 8pm?) I was trudging around the store thinking about how much more I needed to do before AndyZ gets here. I decide to look for some small gifts to put in a package for NikkiZ. We’re going to have a present waiting for her at the hospital as a gift from her brother - but I’m so rarely not with her - it has been hard to find time to get something. Lucky for me - the Dollar section at Super Target had a plethora of DORA items - so I was able to get several items for damn cheap.

I was motivated by my good discovery, so I wandered around more and immediately I felt my mood lifting. Super Target does that - especially when you stumble upon clearance racks in the children’s section with items for $2-$3. SCORE! My mood was still lifting as I found NikkiZ’s entire summer wardrobe for under $20. I even picked up a few onesies for AndyZ, which definitely cheered me up because I had forgotten how tiny newborn onesies are. Is he really going to be that small? EEK.

And then - the most insane part of all - a pregnant woman stopped me in the pajama department and asked me what I thought of the nightshirt she was trying on over her clothes. It was the strangest but most awesome encounter in the world. We ended up chatting for a good 15 minutes and I thought, This is what I needed. A conversation with another pregnant woman. Sometimes you feel less crazy when someone commiserates with you. I kinda wanted to ask her for her name or phone number or something - but I was afraid that would come off a bit stalkerish.

All in all? It was an errand that ended up boosting my spirits after a day of freaking out that I’m not ready to have this baby yet. Who needs beer or drugs or even pharmaceuticals when you have SUPER TARGET? NO ONE.

When I asked MrZ if he wanted to camp with us on Friday he said, “Well, it’s the last weekend before the baby gets here and I need to finish the house.” I love how he felt the need to point out that it’s the last weekend - LIKE I AM NOT AWARE.

MrZ has had one thing on his To Do list: Paint The House. He is almost done with the blue, will finish this weekend if the weather holds up for him. My list, on the other hand, is contains everything else. I’ve been washing baby clothes and bassinet bedding. I’ve been buying supplies (I forgot how small newborn diapers are!) and washing all of NikkiZ’s old items. I’ve tried to hunt down another diaper bag like the one we have for NikkiZ - but they don’t make it anymore. (I’ll rant about that later.) I’ve been scrubbing the house and washing the sheets. And there’s still SO MUCH more to do.

And for some reason? I feel the need to TELL EVERY LITTLE THING to my husband. It’s like I’m afraid that he’s sitting there thinking, “I’ve got to paint the house and what the hell is my fat lazy wife doing the whole time?” Which - he would never think. (At least he’d better not.) But for some reason? I act like he’s thinking it every second of every day and I find myself listing out ever little mundane thing I’ve done to prepare for AndyZ’s arrival. And if I plan something like a night camping - (I’m keeping my fingers crossed it will work out) - then I feel like I have to explain that. “I just want to have some quality time with the two other kids before AndyZ invades our lives.”

WHY DO I DO THIS? My husband has never made me feel like I should be doing more, so why do I act like he’s keeping some sort of tally in his head of the amount of time we each spend working…just to make sure I’m doing my share. I don’t even think he would care if I simply sat on my ass all day eating bon bons.

(Hey…that’s a good idea…)

Yet still - I feel like I must prove myself to him every day. Because I am certifiable and he is a saint for either (a) putting up with it or (b) ignoring it. Either way - good for him. One of us needs to be mentally stable when this kid gets here.