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Friday, September 07, 2007

Rushing Out the Door for Work

I finally stopped going into the office as of last Friday. Notice I didn't say that I stopped working, only going in to the actual building in the big city. I am still working, just now, I am doing it in my underwear and night shirt in the comfort of my home office, while the View plays in the background!

I took last Friday off because it was my birthday. My husband had it off because, well because he has the best job ever and they have days that aren't even holiday's off. Days off just because they are ADJACENT TO HOLIDAYS on the calendar. So we ended up spending Friday through Tuesday (which he took off to be with know, back when we thought our baby was actually going to come when they said it would...) together non-stop.

The weekend was uncomfortable, but fun nonetheless. We did think the baby would come, but it didn't happen. We were anxious all weekend, but in good spirits for the most part. On Tuesday, my due date, I had a doctor's appointment. The one where they said nothing was happening, and they wouldn't induce me, you remember? Right?

As we left the doctor, dejected and miserable, I could sense the immense shift in our collective mood regarding the baby. It was a rough night, and we were both cranky. I could tell it was hard on him too. He has been doing everything around the house. ALL the cooking, ALL the cleaning. The kid helps me put on socks for the love of everything holy...he gets me drinks and basically waits on me at this point, so painful it is in the pelvis for me to move!

On Wednesday, he had to go back to work.

Let me say this: Since we have been together, our morning routine has consisted of a 30 minute process of getting him to get out of bed. EVERY. DAMN. MORNING. I mean, the number of times I have heard "five more minutes?" would drive the average person insane.

But Wednesday. On Wednesday, this man shot out of bed, got showered and dressed and practically skipped out the door, so happy was he to be getting away from it all. (and by "it" I mean me, at 40 weeks and counting, pregnant).

You know what? I wasn't even mad. I WAS JEALOUS!


Blogger Amy said...

I would have run away from myself, too, when I was past due, if only I could...

Maybe he's just trying to make time pass faster so the arrival will come soon!?



11:29 AM  
Blogger KidKate said...

Well, at least at home nobody will badger you about putting a mat under you damn desk! Although I suppose ruining your own floors isn't exactly a great alternative. Hang in there--I'm sure you'll still deliver before me!

12:23 PM  
Blogger undercover celebrity said...

Ilove how the late stages of pregnancy turn you into Yoda. Hilarious!

On a completely selfish note, I am glad Butterman isn't here yet. All this downtime means that you post more often :)

12:52 PM  
Blogger Jen said...

When I was pregnant with my first, the doctor told me nothing was happening on Friday. But by Saturday morning I was in the hospital. You just never know.

(He wasn't born until Sunday, but that's another story.)

11:09 AM  

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