I was writing the date recently and suddenly realized next week will be June. Then comes July and that means the arrival of Little Miss. Blame it on this cold and rainy weather or the house remodel but it’s like I haven’t been paying attention to this pregnancy or the calendar at all. I had to plug in my due date online to find out what week I was in. 33 weeks!

So different than the first time around. Last time there were the emails from all the baby sites I signed up for reminding me daily that my baby was now 11.5 inches from head to rump and weighs approximately 4 pounds and you are 32 weeks and 4 days. All the pregnancy magazines and volumes of books. Birthing classes. So much to learn and I was a sponge absorbing it all. Like what a Boppy is and the multiple ways to use it. Today I had to call my doctor to find out when my next appointment is.

These two pregnancies could not feel more different. Maybe it was the pike position Carson settled into early on but the kid rarely moved. He’d just give me a good head butt every once in a while to let me know he was still in there. This one choreographs round the clock dance numbers complete with jazz hands. Then tap dances on my bladder as an encore.

And I’m tired. I don’t remember being this tired last time. If it wasn’t for work and responsibilities I could curl up in bed and stay there all day.

Not to say I think I’m more prepared and feel it’s old hat now. I haven’t a clue. Anything I once knew about labor and delivery, infant sleep schedules and milk production I’ve long forgotten. I should probably dust off those pregnancy books and at least read the cliffs notes. But right now I just need a nap.

There’s a Mexican restaurant not far from our house that I’ve only gone to when pregnant. I don’t go for the atmosphere, their guacamole doesn’t contain actual avocados and Jason cringes whenever I suggest it enthusiastically as a dinner option. I know authentic Mexican cuisine doesn’t include shredded iceberg lettuce as a main ingredient but their crisp shell tacos taste so Heavenly. I always order two and get a little sad after I swallow the last bite because I know a few days will need to pass before I can bring it up again and expect Jason to accompany me. It’s not a place you’ll find reviewed in any foodie magazine or want to bring out of town guests (although if they visited tomorrow I’d probably suggest it).

Carson likes to go because the waitress gives him a cup of crayons and I set him up with his own individual bowl of salsa to double dip his chips. And there’s lots of sombreros to point at.

Delivered Dish, a restaurant delivery company in Portland recently sent out their new menu book and I was ecstatic to learn this place is now included. Unfortunately they have a minimum order so unless Jason partakes I need to order five Heavenly Tacos and eat them in one sitting. Because unlike pizza, I don’t think they taste just as good cold the next day.

We just went there last night. The three day countdown can begin.