Single Digits

Nine...as in days. As in single digits. That's all that remains.

I think I just pooped my pants.

When Amanda playfully flashed up 10 fingers yesterday, my stomach instantly went into knots and I had the distinct feeling I might pass out. I'm nervous, of course, but for the most part it was because I thought there was still so much to do. Amanda made me take a step back and actually consider what remains to be done and...well, it's almost nothing. I've been on a cleaning and organizing rampage for a couple weeks now. She has helped immensely, but for the most part I insist that she rest. She actually does sometimes, so that must mean that she really needs it. She is uncomfortable as heck, as one would expect, but she is in good spirits. We slept in this morning, cuddling for some time when we awoke. While we're rarely able to do that anyway, the times will become even more infrequent once the boys are here, I suspect. I'll miss that, to be sure, but I can't wait for them to arrive. Surprisingly, I'm less nervous about their actual arrival. I've realized that I have no idea what to expect except a lack of sleep. We've informed ourselves as best as possible. Fearing the unknown makes no sense to me, so I've opted for a state of heightened excitement. Still, my stomach remains in knots.

* * * * * * * * * *

Boys, do you know what you're getting yourselves in to? You're being born into a family with two parents who still don't know what they want to be when they grow up and who have extremely crass, dark and morbid senses of humor, a father who is distracted by any bright and shiny object, suckers who can't let a suffering animal out of their sights, giant nerds who think it's great fun to dissect an argument and see the flaws within, etc. You're both doomed, you see, but also know that we love you more than we ever thought possible. I simply cannot wait to meet you.