As part of the baby preparations, I emptied out my cedar/memory chest so we could move it out of the nursery. I came across a million scrapbooks and journals. On the first page of the first journal I opened it seemed like a confession. I was 11 years old. Martha threw something at Kathryn, I dropped a bottle of salad dressing into a basket of clean laundry (which I washed again), I had a spelling test and I made a bunch of mistakes. I thought, "Man, I was hard on myself."
Then later I opened a seminary journal, I was 17 years old. I expected to find my thoughts on whatever scripture we had been studying but as I opened it to the first page I read, "I forgot to say my prayers this morning." I always joke with people that I'm half catholic because my mom used to be catholic. I think this guilt I have displayed all through my life is further proof of that. Catholic guilt is hereditary despite what Chewy may say.
So I'm 35 weeks pregnant now. I can tell you that my back hurts no matter what I do, I pee more, I have begun to feel contractions from time to time (apparently normal), but even with all this I'm scared for the baby to actually come. I'll be fine, I know, everyone has told me I'll do great and not to stress, but how do you not stress about suddenly being responsible for a little life that will be completely dependent on you? Or for labor pain- yeah, how do you not stress about that?
Anyway, the emotions still run high, I am more cranky than before though my goal this week has been to be better about road rage. Here's why. Last Saturday, Chewy and I were at BJs. It was cold and rainy and so he went to get the car and I stood in the lobby - people watching. An employee was out there in the cold and rain collecting carts and bringing them inside. He was coming down a hill in the parking lot with a whole line of carts. A woman in an SUV starts backing out of her spot. He waves his arm in the air to get her attention so she will stop. She does, and then I watch as she turns toward the store watching the guy with the carts go by. She is talking to her passenger, hands gesturing in anger and indignation and a face all like:
And of course my face went
and I thought, what an ugly face to make. Is that what I look like when I'm cranky on the road? Therefore, I resolved to be better about my attitude on the road (and to not use my ugly face - especially when judging people for using theirs). It's been really hard this week but I think I've done alright. I've hit traffic every morning and I keep telling myself to keep calm and listen to my audiobook.