On March 29th, we will be welcoming the latest addition to our family: Lyla-Gray Amber Richling. That is, if I don't go into labor in my own first. These days, I almost hope that I do go into labor before her debut date, because these last few weeks of pregnancy are taking their toll on me. I forgot how hard pregnancy was - or maybe it wasn't this hard before, what with there being ten years between my last babe and this one.
In four days, The Nugget will be ten. This makes me ridiculously sad on a number of levels. Happy, too, for sure, but I'm not quite ready to accept that my trolls are so grown.
In four months, The Monkey will be 14 and officially done with middle school. Then he will be a freshman in high school. I am most assuredly NOT ready for that. Fortunately, The Monkey is a rather "fun sized" child, and his diminutive stature allows me to pretend - just for a bit longer - that his time with me isn't coming to a close so very soon.
The umbilical cord never really gets cut. They will always be my sweet babies, no matter how grown they are. I feel so grateful that they chose me as their mama, to walk with them through this portion of their journeys.
But back to Lyla-Gray's imminent arrival: seven weeks is not a terribly long time at all. And as I get bigger, I find that there is less and less I can physically do (aside from a great deal of whining and torturing of The Boyfriend™, who insists that we need to have more babies). My emotions are a grab bag of frenzied need-to-finish-projects-NOW to need-to-make-art-NOW to nervousness to... Well, Lets just says that there's a lot going on in my head. All of this because there's just not enough time left.
Today, we mulch and garden. I am going to brave trying to start a kitchen garden again that, hopefully, I can maintain. And with a bit of luck, I'll get into the studio this weekend.