Full term

Elise is officially, as they say in the world of obstetrics, full term.  That means that she is 37 weeks pregnant and our child could be born healthy, minus a few ounces, at any moment.  Any time except during The Apprentice.

It’s scary that 37 weeks has passed in the blink of an eye.  It’s scary that life as I know it will suddenly change.  It’s scary that in less than a month I will be a dad.

I spent this past weekend at my parents’ house.  My mom said, “Remember, the baby will cry because it needs something.  It’s not lashing out at you.  Yet.”

I think the baby will cry because I’ll be constantly yelling, “Why wasn’t your biological disposition programmed to allow you to wipe your own butt?!?!”

I don’t like messes, interupted sleep, chaotic schedules, unorganization or feces.

I’m screwed.