The Countdown
Springtime is, [literally] by nature, an optimistic time. Open windows, the light green of brand new leaves, the smell of the grill, no mittens or heavy coats to cart around, and small bare feet exploring the backyard. Sitting in the sun while The Crazy One naps, feeling the energetic jabs of her little sister with the sappy sentimentalism only third trimester hormones bring, knowing this Spring in particular is a time for gratitude and optimism. However, feeling the Seriously Energetic jabs of her little sister, with the growing awareness that only third trimester realities bring, I’ve found that this Spring is also a time for intermittent waves of panic. It’s like the Braxton Hicks of parenthood; you know your body is “preparing” for what’s to come, but you also know it ain’t a fraction of The Real Deal. These moments of realization have taken me off guard a bit. I mean, Honey was no surprise, not by any means. Quite the contrary. So the fact that she ...