38 Weeks and First Impressions

I really imagined that I would have more time to post this week, and I have all these cute blogging-ideas lined up. And here we are, the last day of week 38, and I'm finally sharing this picture.

That's right... Tiny's due date is one week from tomorrow. And I know every single pregnant woman says this, but even though I've spent most of my pregnancy thinking that I'll have a late baby, I don't think so anymore.

At the doctor's appointment on Monday, even she mentioned that we're looking close here. As in, this baby could be here tonight. Or, you know, two weeks from now. So I've been spending the mornings trying to cross things off that darn "before-Tiny-list" (how does it keep getting longer?), spending the afternoons working, and spending the evenings in the kitchen, because it's Christmastime, darn it, and things need baking.

And then, every evening, I crawl into bed, my feet so swollen from standing in the kitchen that I'm almost crying, and hope, oh, Tiny, please don't come tonight. Maybe in the morning. I just want to sleep now. I really miss my feet.

Can you tell pregnancy is becoming more uncomfortable?

Sneak peak: the fabric for Tiny's

window curtains.

And when did the floor get so far away?

But even if we're starting to get a bit anxious and excited up in here, I'm still enjoying the last weeks? days? of pregnancy -- the last few days of sleeping, the last days of being the two of us. I'm soaking up this time with Eric, until we're thrust into the world of it's your turn.

But the thought of meeting this person who will be such a big part of our lives for the rest of our lives is starting to become a bit terrifying more real.

I know I shouldn't really be worried about meeting Tiny. "Hello, I just pushed you out of my body. You are tiny and wrinkled and your head is funny-shaped and you are covered in goo. I am more exhausted than I've ever been in my life. Welcome to the family. Always keep your room organized." I don't really think it will go like that.

But still, I'm not really that great at first impressions. 

I'm sure all my college friends in my year can remember Convocation, that special day our freshman year -- the first day, when we arrived on campus, moved into our dorm rooms, met our roommates and hallmates, attended the moving lecture by Dr. Arnn, where all our mothers cried -- during all of which I was wearing gym shorts because of the massive abrasion on my buttcheek from a rollerblading accident earlier in the week. 

That was the same day I met Eric, by the way. I didn't remember meeting him, actually. He says that his first impression of me was that I might hit him with the brace on my wrist (which was from the same accident). I guess I was excited to be at Hillsdale and was a bit, er, exuberant. 

Speaking of wrists... My junior year of college, I had to miss my first ever class with Dr. Sundahl, who would become one of my favorite professors. I hated missing classes, so I went to introduce myself to him and explain that I would normally never miss a first class, but that I had to have surgery. My wrist was broken and needed two pins inserted. He asked what had happened. 

"Um, my boyfriend broke my wrist."

"This doesn't sound like a very healthy relationship"

"No, he fell on it."

But that sounded even worse.

The actual story was quite innocent, really. It was dark out -- we had just arrived back at college from what felt like the longest summer of my life, and we hadn't seen each other in months. We were at Eric's house, where most of his roommates were either out with friends or already asleep. Eric thought he remembered a hammock in the back yard, so we went to find it and he climbed in. 

"Wenders, get in."

"No, Eric. It'll break."

"It won't break. Get in."

"It's barely holding you. It's going to break."

"It's not going to break."

This went on for a while. Finally, I put just my hands on the edge of the hammock. Before I could even climb in, it broke, and Eric fell. Onto my wrist.

But the, er, best worst impression I made was, naturally, at Eric's parents' house. Granted, Eric and I had been dating for almost a year, so they had met me several times. But this time, we were at his parents' over spring break, more than a week, which made the longest amount of time I had yet spent with his parents. 

Eric's parents are great, and we get along really well. But Eric had regaled me with enough My-Mom-Can-Read-Your-Mind stories that I was just a leetle bit scared. I wasn't hiding anything. But still. One year into a relationship with a guy you're crazy about, you kinda hope his mom likes you enough and won't spend a week with you, then give her son the this-girl-will-never-raise-my-grandchildren speech.

The week went pretty great, actually. It was Easter Sunday, almost our last day of break. Of course, Eric and I had both accidentally set our alarms for an hour later than we meant, and we were late to church. No big. After lunch, Eric and I helped his mom clean up the kitchen, and then he went outside to help his dad with some yardwork. I went to get my homework and brought my book to the kitchen to read, where I turned on the burner on the stove to make tea. There was a towel with the drying silver on the stove, so I moved it away from the burner under the teapot. 

A few minutes later, Eric's mom walked into the kitchen.

"Oh, are you making tea?"

She glanced at the stove. So did I. 

Just then, the towel under the silver burst into flames. I jumped up. She grabbed the edge of the towel and threw it on the ground, then stomped on it. I'm pretty sure I just stood there, dumbfounded, like an idiot, while she stared at me, then burst out laughing.

It was not nearly this dramatic.

But to me, this is what it felt like.

"Well, I was trying to make tea."

I had turned on the wrong burner.

Thankfully, Eric's mom has a great sense of humor. We She and Eric -- and the rest of the family -- laughed about it. I was mortified. So much for not being the girl-who-will-never-raise-my-grandchildren.

They still laugh about that story. And I laugh, too, now, because I'm that girl about to raise grandchildren.