The Waiting Game

I am not the world's most patient person. I know some may be surprised. I am good at faking it... You know, if you manage to talk in a calm manner, people think you have endless patience! I am especially not good at WAITING for people. Midwife 30 minutes late for my appointment? Pisses me off. Waiting for three seconds while John uses the bathroom, before we go to the gym at 6AM? Irritating. Waiting for the dog to sniff out all the fresh scents on her way from the car to the house? I don't bother waiting. I just shut the door and figure if I open it later she'll be there, waiting to come in. Walking behind slow people in the mall? Annoys the CRAP out of me. How can people walk so slowly??

So this whole waiting for Rocky thing is DRIVING. ME. FREAKING. INSANE. I tried to explain it to John last night. For 37 weeks it was ok to wait. I wasn't impatient. The boy was SUPPOSED to be in my belly. Labor before 37 weeks would have freaked me out. But now? Now that he is allowed to come out? Now that 37 weeks has come and gone, and he could be born any day now? It's making me crazy. Now I am WAITING for him. And I hate waiting!

If I had more to do to keep me busy I'd be better. But I am apparently too efficient at work, and there's not a ton left to be done at home. So I've gotten really good at coming home and napping on the couch while watching some sporting event (oooh! Tonight I get to nap to Florida winning the National Championship!). I suppose, if I were more motivated, I'd start a new useful project. Like, oh, maybe finishing editing the pictures I took at Chris and G's wedding, way back in May...

Any day now, Rocky. Get your butt out here. Patience is wearing thin...