31 is the new 12.

I've come to this space multiple times over the past few weeks, but nothing comes out. Well, some sentences come out, but nothing worth publishing.

Time feels different. I move slower and yet the hours pass like nothing. I can't believe it's almost September. I can't believe there are 6ish more weeks til we have a kid. Til we can't leave the house alone without it costing something. Til I become so sleep-deprived I can't see straight. (I'm terrified of this, by the way.)

My brother and his girlfriend visited this weekend and I was so jazzed all day Friday that we were going OUT for dinner. I wanted to sit outside, drink a lemonade, stay out past 9pm. Because even though they say everything changes when you have a kid, that's not exactly true. It's a slow evolution of change, one that happens slowly over 9 months, and by the time you actually have a kid? Your life doesn't look much the same at all.

Maybe that makes it easier to accept a brand new life.

Where do I find bits of myself these days? It's not in the onesie washing or the waddling posture or even the joyful conversations with Chris about bringing our son home. I suppose it's more passive, a more introverted connecting with myself that happens when I'm quiet or alone or reading or listening to music that I love. I wonder if this will change once he's born, if I'll establish an evolved identity or if I will steal away moments or hours alone just to refind myself.

It's all a lot to think about.

Tonight I was making dinner and I felt so happy that I found Chris and we made a family and that we're living a life that I am proud of. I told him and he said he felt the same way a few moments ago as he put away the air mattress in the nursery, that he felt so proud and adult that we had assembled a room for our baby.

"Adult" is the right way to put it. Like I've said before, this time of my life feels like another adolescence, a strange landing plateau between before and after, a hovering mix of nostalgia and anticipation.

On the precipice of second puberty, a bit quieter this time, but no less transformational.

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