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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