Tick, tock

So we never gave too much creedence to this whole "due date" idea in the first place. C and I distinctly remember being told two different dates by different practictioners of the medical arts - the 20th by the midwife, according to her groovy little calendar wheel, and the 24th by the ultrasound guy ("the last mid-40's guy with a beard I ever want to hear discussing my daughter's labia," as C says). Even with those two forecasts, I knew better than to expect anything to happen when THEY said.

Even so, it's the 22nd, and I'm damned impatient at this point. I really kinda thought today would be the day. I've been off work since Tuesday, and kept telling C that I just needed two days to not think about work and not feel like I had anything else to do, and then I would be ready to have the baby. 'Cuz that's the kind of control freak I secretly am. I think I have magical mind control over my cervix or some shit.

Ok, Baby, it's been 2 days. I know I was rather stern with you on Tuesday, when I told you you were going to have to wait until I got a little rest and C went to Boston to train for his new gig. I cleaned up your room then sat around in my pyjamas all day yesterday while he was gone. I don't really have anything left to do, and at this point, you're just frittering away my maternity leave. So step to, kid. Oh, yeah, we haven't installed the car seat yet. Is that what you are waiting for? Cuz we'll do it first thing tomorrow, I promise. It's dark out now, and that would be a total pain, especially given your father's and my proven pattern of fumbling with and bickering about anything that requires assembly.

We worry that Baby Zee is going to be some kind of neat freak, and will be horribly dissapointed as soon as she sticks her head out of there and sees the condition we keep our apartment in. Is she too horrified by the stacks of books and mail on every surface to come out?