Nathalie's Notes

Raising the Hardy Boys

I signed into my Typepad account an hour ago to post and then I found myself making and ordering our Christmas cards (To whom it may concern:Shutterfly is having a sale), learning to download free fonts (learning this has been on my personal "to do" list for a long, long time), and poking around on Facebook. And then an hour happened. And now I'm going to try to go to sleep in hopes of getting a few hours of sleep in a row. This must be some kind of preparation for re-adjusting to the whole newborn in the house thing.

Along those lines, it dawned on me that the fact that I'm this pregnant means that I'll actually be having a baby soon. Which in turn means: labor and delivery, take two.

Me to Matt: "So what stupid baby class did you want to take from the hospital this time? The weekly one or the weekend warrior blitz?"

Matt, incredulous: "Seriously? We're doing that again?"

Me: "No, it was supposed to be a funny joke. But you know what really isn't funny? The fact that it turns out I'll be going through all that again and I'm getting freaked out about it. Really freaked."

Matt: "And the class will help with that?"

Me: "Forget the stupid class! Why can't you just do it this time?"
Matt: "Now that's funny. You'll be fine. Really."
Me: "Yeah, that's not easing my mind at all. Don't you remember all the [insert hideous, mysteriously forgotten details here]?"

Matt: "Well, if there was a class they'd tell you to stop going over all those parts. So start there, I guess."

Me: "Fine. Whatever."

It's possible I'm also entering the bitchier phase of pregnancy. Where's the class on that?

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