The waiting game of cards

Waiting. We're waiting. The baby crib is up. The car seat is in. The 0-3 month gender-neutral clothes are washed. Hospital bag is packed. We're waiting. Mom says the hardest part of waiting is the not knowing. At least, when you're waiting for Christmas, you know it arrives on December 25 - without fail. This whole waiting for Baby thing is a completely different game. She says to make no mistake: There are still plenty of things to do at work. A solid 11 days remain until the actual due date. To be pregnant for another 11 days (give or take) won't kill her, but the waiting might.
My recent observations of Mom tell me that she's antsy. Sometimes she sits in Dad's recliner, garbed in dad's shorts and t shirt, watching the second hand on the clock. I think she's counting. I hear words like 'three centimeters already' and 'contraction.' Other times, she's regular old Mom - zooming cars and reading books with us. But all the time, she's moving pretty slowly. We climb the basement steps together; one at a time. Dad does all the lifting now - garbage to the curb, laundry to the bedrooms, Sam into his crib. All in all, we're getting through this together, but I gotta tell you: this waiting thing is for the birds. It's time for Baby.
In my humble, almost-three-year-old opinion, I think the danger of waiting lays in direct relationship to one's ability to imagine possibilities. For example, what if Mom goes to work, makes it all the way up to the 19th floor, only to begin the motions of labor once again? Sweet lord. Contractions would start, baby would drop, all the lovely things that happen when baby drops would happen, and suddenly Mom would be in the nearest wheelchair, on the nearest ambulance, whisked to the nearest hospital. While the story may not make  the intranet news site at Target, it would certainly be the talk of red and khaki town for a solid two weeks.
I think the bottom line is this: Mom's not so good at waiting. Waiting takes patience. Takes discipline. Takes the wisdom to know that time moves at the same pace it always has - whether you're ready and waiting or caught by surprise. While she has some of all three of these traits: patience, discipline and wisdom, I'm here to tell you that waiting happily takes work, and Mom could use a hand.
Further reflection tells me that we've all been there. Perhaps you're there right now: waiting. Maybe you're waiting for a baby, waiting for that promotion, waiting for Mr. or Ms. Right, waiting to understand your next step in life, or simply waiting for the bus. Here's to the ability to put complaints on a shelf, worries to the curb, and a smile on your face. Here's to happy waiting. Here's to knowing that all things happen in their own time, and even when you've already done all of the right things to prepare, the way you live your waiting time defines your character, shapes your attitude, and always, always strengthens you for what's to come.

In the final stretch marks

sam here - catching up in the world of blogs. let's just say ... 2012 hasn't been the greatest year for regular blog posts. thanks for sticking with us, loyal readers! my opinion: ken and my blogging energy will return at full force once this bun in the oven is cooling on the welcome-to-life-now stove top. Exactly 20 days to go until this supposed baby in mom's belly becomes a reality.

in the mean time: a few updates from the window of conrad the younger --

mom and dad pinched pennies for a few years, and i'm thrilled to report that a california-style fence now lines the perimeter of our back yard. three cheers for the ability to wander without incessant parental reminders to turn around, come this way, or not in the neighbor's flowers, sam.

i awoke one afternoon in april to mom, dad and ken sitting in minivan. yes, just sitting. imagine my surprise, as i climbed into the seat next to ken, when mom informed me the minivan belonged to us. really? the seats are so .... high. the windows are so wide ... and when we listen to "This Old Man," dad pushes a special button to help us rear-seat dwellers hear the tune even better. awesome. i think dad may have shed a tear as he watched the trusty family buick alight a flat-bed and free-ride its way to its chosen donation location. while dad admits to "trundling headlong into middle-aged suburbia" (a direct quote), i will say that the minivan moves with the speed and alacrity that a man of my stamina and charisma has come to expect in life.

big brother ken was the first to notice that mom no longer wears her rings. apparently this baby-on-the-way has claimed mom's clear skin, waistline and the space between her digits. as a result of his uncanny ability to notice the important things, ken and mom made a deal: once baby comes out, and mom wears her rings again, ken will wear undies. we'll see how that goes. my guess: he'll need my shining example to inspire him into potty training execution mode. i'll keep you posted.

in a more recent update, dad completed his undergrad semester with grace and style. the man has become the rodin's thinker of economics. truth: minnesota public radio (mpr) is set on a daily alarm so that the three of us are guaranteed a breakfast serenade of public radio opinion and economic food for our heads. does that make us a collection of geeks? i think not until dad starts calling into the show. who knows, though. ken may beat him to it.

it's officially summertime, and i've acquired the official minnesota farmer's tan, a handful of healthy mosquito bites, and the tune to "bah bah black sheep." while i do feel badly for the 'little boy who lives down the drain,' i'm happy with the general cadence our days have taken. mom's middle continues to expand, and dad's checking off the list of things to do before the official due date. (personally i don't think the reality of another baby really hit him until he rearranged the space in the minivan to accommodate a third car seat. his face is still a little white.)

cheers, my readers. ken and i will assume the responsibility for informing you of the date and specs of our pending sibling. until then, enjoy the sunshine, and know that good thoughts are sent to you daily.

sam