32 weeks of belly

On Sunday we turned 32 weeks old.  I think we also finally developed a waddle.  I can’t be certain, but there is something distinctly waddle-ish about my gait these days, and I figure if I’ve begun to question the waddle, surely it exists.

It’s nothing terrible, just sort of a wide-stance walk that could be attributed to horseback riding if I did that, but I don’t.  Nope.  It’s a waddle.  A slow, teeter-tottery wobble (thanks Mango).

32 weeks took me, Chris, Mango, and the waddle to Vermont for a cozy getaway weekend in Woodstock.  We spent a wonderful weekend wandering through the woods, eating delicious food, and relaxing. We slept in, lazed about, and enjoyed.  Few photos resulted, but we did snap a few, so here you are:

Progress at the home front continues slowly but surely.  We’re expecting a giant snowstorm this weekend, so we plan to spend Saturday indoors preparing Mango’s room.  There’s some painting to be done and some furniture to reorganize, but other than that, we’re in a bit of a holding pattern as we don’t have much stuff yet.  I laughed with Chris the other day about Mango coming early and the poor child spending the first days of his or her life naked on account of ill-prepared parents.  Perhaps we should buy some clothes.  Or maybe just diapers and a blanket.  That would suffice.

Emotionally, it feels as though the end is in sight, which is both incredibly exciting and unbelievably overwhelming.  Chris remains the rock, ever confident that we’ll do great and Mango is lucky to have us.  I fluctuate much more in my emotions – there are some days when I mirror Chris’s calm facade, and there are others where I am certain that we are doomed and poor Mango will deem us failures from the get-go.  Then I have a moment of clarity and realize that we’re probably doing something right if our child looks at us with an eye-roll and thinks s/he couldn’t have faired worse in the luck of the draw.

That said, I’m fairly certain that Mango lucked out and that, if anything, the kid is in for a wild ride.  Even if its mother waddles.

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