I've been waiting and anticipating and obsessing over this day for months, ever since I first learned the big news last fall... and now, it's finally here! I can't even begin to contain my excitement!

No, I'm not talking about Baby C's impending birth -- which, yes, is now just three days away (ok, three days from my due date, which as I've said, is completely arbitrary).

I'm talking about the Royal Wedding!

I was always bummed that Charles and Diana got married before I was old enough to watch and enjoy television; I felt like I missed out on some crucial globo-social event in the history of the world. But now, that situation is finally being remediated.

By this time tomorrow, Prince William and Kate Elizabeth Middleton (what? another British royal with Elizabeth in her name? I was SO born in the wrong country) will be husband and wife... and future heirs to the throne. What dress will she wear? How will she do her hair? How lavish will the ceremony turn out to be?

BBC America launches its wedding day coverage at 3am here on the East Coast; I am seriously contemplating setting my alarm so I can tune in to each and every minute. Initially, when the engagement was announced, my plan was to host an English tea party for all my friends -- but when I realized the nuptials would take place in the early hours of the morning AND that I would be days shy of 40 weeks pregnant, I decided against a party. But still, I have some crumpets and scones in the pantry and a pot of English Breakfast tea brewing on the stove for my own personal celebration.

I'm facing a pretty monumental decision, and I could sure use your input.

This has been a pretty miserable pregnancy. I'd say "I'm not complaining," but I realize that would be a blatant lie. I am complaining. My first 20 weeks were filled with a combination of extreme morning all-day sickness, bordering on hyperemesis gravidarum, combined with the decidedly mixed feelings that accompany an unplanned pregnancy. I felt "solid" -- I won't use the word "good," because that would be an exaggeration -- for the next eight weeks, only to have the nausea return (along with stabbing pains down there) once I hit 28 weeks. On top of that, I've had a constant sinus infection for the past three weeks, which has completely knocked me off my feet.

So when my OB offered to induce me as early as 39 weeks (which was Easter Sunday), I should have leapt at the chance, right? RIGHT?

Only I didn't. If this had been my first pregnancy, I would have in a heartbeat. I was beyond ready to meet G. I was so sure that she was going to come around 37-39
weeks, just like every other baby I'd ever known, that I started my maternity leave the day I hit full term... then proceeded to sit around the house, bored out of my mind, for another three and a half weeks. I had my bags packed, her room ready, the carseat installed for months before her ultimate arrival, two days after my due date. I was so desperate for her to come that I forced my OB to strip my membranes when I reached my due date and schedule an induction for three days later (which I never needed, as G managed to come on her own in the nick of time).

This time, I'm not so sure I want an induction at all. Strange as it sounds, I'm not ready for this pregnancy to be over. Maybe it's because I know it's going to be my last, and while "enjoy" isn't quite the right word, I want to remember this feeling for just a little while longer. Maybe it's because -- although Baby C's room is finally ready (and realllllllly cute, that is, if you like Duke basketball and Syracuse football!) -- I haven't packed anyone's bag or bothered even seeing if Baby C's carseat will fit into the car next to G's big girl seat. Maybe it's because G is 97% of the way to being potty trained (thanks to that trip earlier this month to my mom's, which I'm now dubbing "potty training boot camp"), and I'm worried the imminent appearance of her little brother could derail her efforts. Whatever the reason, I said no to my OB's offer.

But now I'm wavering in my decision, not for emotional reasons but for practical ones. With my never-ending sinus infection, taking care of G for 13 hours a day while DH is at work is more than a chore; I'd like my mom to come down now (rather than when my water breaks in a mad dash to make it to the hospital room before her grandson arrives) to help me out -- I don't want my mom to have to wait around for a week, maybe longer, as Baby C inevitably goes past his due date. DH's pay period ends Friday, making Saturday the ideal time for him to start his paternity leave. Plus, if Baby C were born a week from today -- May 2nd -- my OCD tendancies would be satisfied, as my family's birthdays would be on the 2nd, 6th (me), 10th (DH) and 14th (G) of different months (all four numerical digits apart, in case you didn't notice).

I'm at a crossroads. I have until my OB appointment Wednesday morning to make a decision regarding an induction; if I opt for one, I'll probably go in late Sunday to get the ball rolling. If not, I will simply wait for Baby C to come in his own good time.

For the past two weeks, I have gone to sleep alone. I have woken up alone. And I have enjoyed every minute of it.

Over the course of our marriage, DH & I have gone through periods during which we've slept in different beds. Articles like this one make me think I'm probably not the only one, although -- at least in my circle -- I am the only one who admits it. But the proof is in the pudding; statistics show some couples are even going as far as building new homes with TWO master bedrooms.

The reasons are simple enough: his snoring, my pregnancies, his crazy schedule. This time, the instigator was a terrible head cold that has been plaguing us both. It's keeping him up all night coughing; it's making me have to change positions every 15 minutes. It was a mutual decision that he would sleep downstairs, on the couch (with the completion of Baby C's nursery, we no longer have a spare bedroom for guests -- or husbands who've been kicked out of bed), while I stayed in our nice, big, comfy bed.

Our sleeping arrangements -- while separate -- are by no means equal. My six and a half foot tall husband is forced to contort his body into wildly grotesque positions in order to lay down on our couch; it's amazing he's able to sleep at all. Meanwhile, I luxuriate on our queen bed (yes, I know a king-size would give us more space and probably alleviate the need for separate sleeping spaces at times -- but our bedroom furniture is my favorite piece in the house, and I refuse to replace it!) on sheets with an obscenely high thread count. But you know what? I'm pregnant, due literally any day, and I'm selfish -- I have no problem admitting that.

What about you...

If my recent behavior is any indication, then Baby C should be here any minute -- and seeing as I am now 38 weeks along, I suppose he could be.

(Before you congratulate me, let me tell you I'm being completely sarcastic and facetious--G wasn't born until two days after her due date, and since I'm pretty sure my doctors are three days off on my May 1st due date, I don't think there's a chance we'll be seeing Baby C until Mother's Day weekend.)

For the past week, G has been with my parents in Ohio. Instead of using the time to relax and rejuvenate before delivery, to put my feet up to alleviate the massive swelling that's taken over my ankles and turned them into cankles, to read a good book, I put the pedal to the metal.

I spent the time nesting.

I wish I could tell you my nesting has been worthwhile. I wish I could tell you I now have fresh linens on all the beds, Baby C's room in order or even a yummy dinner in the freezer for after he arrives and we're living off Ramen noodles because no one has enough energy to cook.

But again, nope. I wasted all that energy and productivity doing the following:

-Taking down every piece of drapery in the house and washing it; they didn't look dirty, they didn't even smell dirty... but they were bugging me.

-Removing--and vacuuming--all the couch cushions from their casings. Unlike the drapes, the couch cushions did smell; although, cleaning them with a vacuum didn't exactly eradicate the odor.

-Scrubbing the baseboards with distilled white vinegar and water (at least I was eco-friendly!!!). The floor? Oh, that's still disgusting. But did you see my baseboards? They are sparkling!

-Putting the same 40 cloth diaper inserts through the wash on the "uber-hot" cycle five times. This was actually a productive task, because you have to pre-wash those inserts to maximize their absorbency. Although, to maximize the efficiency of this project, I probably should have run the diapers and the drapes in the same load.

Yes, I am Big Bird, and I am officially nesting.

Just when I thought I had it down, had gotten into a routine, had figured out what motherhood was all about...

My life got turned upside down.

I am 38 weeks pregnant, meaning it's been 36 weeks since we conceived Baby C. That means I've had roughly 34 weeks to get used to the idea of being the mother of two. Now, I have (roughly) two weeks left before the fantasies (and nightmares) I've concocted in my head become reality.

Two weeks... give or take, of course. As I've said time and again on this blog (so much so that I'm starting to feel like a broken record), I don't think the due date my OB gave me is worth crap. I know when sperm met egg, and I can tell you most assuredly it was not 36 weeks ago today. Combine that with the fact that G arrived a few days late (two or three, depending on whether you believe my doctor's estimated due date), and I don't think I'll be giving birth until the end of the first week of May.

In fact, I've been pretty adamant in my prediction that Baby C will be born exactly one month after my birthday -- May 6th.

Extrapolate that a few days, and it means that -- after the obligatory two night stay in the maternity ward -- C and I will be coming home on Sunday, May 8th... Mother's Day.

I have no doubt that -- whether C has arrived days before or is still tucked safely inside of me -- this Mother's Day will be a special one for me. There will be



Mother's Day Cards (as long as DH remembers to buy one on behalf of his children!); there may be a Mother's Day photobook (I've dropped hints to DH, and even left the Shutterfly website up on our desktop); and if I'm lucky, there will be some personalized gifts for mom... although I'm not holding my breath on that last one, DH's creativity and memory only go so far.

But there will also be hugs, kisses, breakfast in bed (again, not holding my breath on that last one). There will be the smell of a new baby, or at least the anticipation of a new life entering my world. There will be constant reminders of what it means to be a mother, and why -- more than anything in the world -- "mom" is the title I hold most dear.

Of course, there will probably be dirty diapers (courtesy of Baby C) and pee-soaked big-girl underpants (courtesy of G); there will probably be heavy doses of Vicodin and Preparation H (thanks, in part, to Baby C); there will be dirty dishes that no one thinks to clean and a house that looks like it's been torn apart by a spring storm known as my family.

I'm sure there will be time to clean up those messes, once the day is over. But this Mother's Day, I plan to revel in my growing family.

You should all be taking notes, because I am now the gold-standard of eco-friendly parenting.

No, seriously, I'm totally joking; we all know I'm not interested in that kind of green.

Just before I found out I was pregnant with C, one of my friends from high school wrote this post about her plan to cloth diaper her son. Her daughter -- who is only a few months older than G -- wore primarily disposable diapers, and my friend's ambitious plan really struck a cord with me (albeit a cord I never thought I'd actually use).

But when God informed DH & I he had other plans to our "single child" lifestyle, I in turn informed DH that we would be cloth diapering our second child.

At first, DH thought I was nuts, and maybe I was. I hate doing laundry, and I think http://www.cottonbabies.com/images/bumgenius/organic/snap/bumGenius-Organic-OneSize-Snaps-AIO-Open-Labels-480.jpghe was confused as to why I'd choose to intentionally increase my workload. But by this point, I knew I would be a stay at home mom by the time our second arrived, and I figured a few extra loads of laundry a week would be worth the savings.

And no, I do not mean the environmental savings; my sole motiation for cloth diapering is financial. C'mon, you've read this blog before; you know I'm frugal with a capital "F."

For G's first year, we succombed to consumerism and marketing and clothed her only in Pampers -- first Swaddlers, later Baby Dry and Cruisers. It was only after she hit 18 months that we switched to Target-brand diapers (which I whole-heartedly endorse! They're fabulous!), which were about 60% the cost of the Pampers. But even supposing we put Baby C in the Target-brand right from the beginning, we still figured we'd be spending upwards of $600 in his first year.

I did my research. I contacted my friends who had and who planned to cloth diaper. I joined the Cloth Diapering group on BabyCenter. I priced different brands on cloth diapers on a wide range of websites.

Ultimately, I decided to follow a plan much like the one my friend laid out in her original blog post. I purchased Flips and BumGenius, both made by the Cotton Babies company (hence they use the same inserts, which will save us money, I hope). Both diapers are also one-size-fits-all, meaning C can wear them from eight to 35 pounds. I waited until I had coupons to Diapers.com (thank you, Pampers Points!) and until certain websites (like Abbyslane.com) ran buy 4 get 1 specials. In all, I've spent about $200 on cloth diapers; about a third of what I would have spent on disposables.

I'm sure I'm naive. Overly optimistic. Guilty of misplaced idealism.

Hopefully, this great cloth diapering adventure will pay off for us -- literally. Otherwise, I'll be selling 20+ "like-new" cloth diaper shells for 75% of the retail price on CraigsList in about three months from now. Wish me luck.

Maybe it's the hormones...

Maybe it's the big (ok, moderately-sized) empty house...

My parents came for a visit this weekend, and took my sunshine home with them. It wasn't unexpected; we'd planned this trip for G several months ago. At the time, the idea was to give G a week of fun with her parents, grandmother and Godparents in Ohio while DH & I finished prepping the house for Baby C; while my mom will whisk G away to the Cleveland Zoo and Children's Museum, DH & I will be painting and waiting on the carpet cleaners.

So there's merit to this plan.

The only thing is, I didn't plan on being such a basketcase.

From the moment my parents left with G -- almost exactly 24 hours ago now -- I've been an absolute wreck. My nose, which had been stuffy before thanks to a sinus infection, is now completely clogged; my eyes are puffy, not from seasonal allergies (well, not entirely) but from crying.

I think part of the reason I'm missing G so desperately is the timing. I hit 37 weeks yesterday, and with it, the realization that Baby C could come into our lives at any time; in fact, my OB checked me last week and said I'm already a fingertip dialated and starting to efface. Whether he comes in the next few days or the next month, Baby C's arrival is going to change things dramatically around here. At times, I still have heart-stabbing pangs of guilt, panic attacks over how this will affect my first born. Ultimately, even though I'm very happy my parents and extended family are spending some much-needed quality time with G for the next week, I'm sad that I'm missing out on what could be her last days as an only child.

The clouds may finally be lifting from the skies around here, but there ain't no sunshine when my baby's gone.

I don't really mean the word "cranky" here... bitchy is more like it.

I am now just days away from hitting the "full term" mark; but I'm not naive. I learned with G that "full term" does not mean "having a baby tomorrow." In fact, when I went to my first full term OB appointment with G, my doctor told me I could have her -- and I quote -- "Any time between now and five weeks from now." He was pretty close; from that point, I was pregnant for another three weeks and two days before G finally arrived (two days after her due date).

Gestation: 36 weeks, 4 days

Today's Appointment: The dreaded Strep B
exam. There's nothing worse than having someone swab you down there at 36+ weeks pregnant. I didn't test positive for Strep B with G, so I'm hoping I didn't test positive today either; I'll get a phone call if I did, otherwise, no news is good news.

Health Concerns: Braving allergy season when I am severely limited in what I can take to treat it. DH, G and I have all been afflicted with sinus infections, head colds and seasonal allergies. They've been able to take medication; I have not. These relatively minor health problems are all adding up into some major issues -- such as not being able to breathe very well. Ladies who have been heavily pregnant in the spring, you have my sympathy -- battling April's allergies is way tougher than combating August's heat and humidity.

Other Concerns: I've been having problems sleeping the past few weeks... I know, not a real shocker in the last month of pregnancy. But it isn't a moving baby or the incessant urge to pee that's keeping me awake. Instead, it's my racing mind. When I mentioned this to my doctor, he gave me a prescription for an anti-anxiety medication. It's the first time I've ever taken any kind of "anti"-anything (other than antacid!), but if it can help me get the sleep I need before Baby C makes his entrance into the world, I'll give it a try.

What's Different: My level of preparedness. With Georgia

Next Appointment: April 13th; I'm into weekly appointments now, so I'm thinking about setting up a cot in my OB's office, since I'll basically be living there for the next month!

The cost of gas in my area is roughly $3.47/gallon these days.

So is the cost of a nap.

Note the correlation; it's no mere coincidence. That's because my child is fighting with all her might to give up her midday nap.

If I were still a working mom, this wouldn't be a problem. "Let the nanny cope with it!" I'd say nonchalantly. But now that I stay at home -- and am in the exhausting 3rd trimester of this pregnancy -- naps are a hot commodity. I enjoy on them. I anticipate them. I need them.

One day a few weeks ago, purely by chance, DH & I discovered the only remedy to G's avoidance of naptime: a ride in the car. If the time is right (and by "time," I mean if G has already eaten lunch and it's after 12:30pm), G will fall asleep in the car within mere minutes of me buckling her into her carseat. She'll then let us carry her up to her bed, where she'll stay asleep for another 60-90 minutes. To me, this is an obvious sign that she still needs her nap; it's only her two-and-a-half year old stubbornness that's causing her to refuse it in the first place.

So, DH & I schedule our days around these naptime drives. Play dates end at 12:30pm. Trips to the grocery store don't happen until after we've had lunch. Errands occur precisely at midday.

The cost of each nap? Roughly $3.47 each, or a gallon of gas. But, as our friends at MasterCard would say, their real value is priceless.