Time is NOT on my side

I apologize in advance for the lack of pictures when there are so many pictures that would make this post so much more interesting, like of our new house or my huge belly or even the new curtains I bought today, but I've been busy unpacking practical things like dishes and toilet paper and so far haven't come across the card reader for our camera. Our move went well, thanks mostly to burly men and my mother-in-law who is the cleaningest person you ever met. Aaron kept trying to discourage her from doing such a very thorough job of our rental house as it was pretty crappy and in pretty nasty shape when we moved in, but to not clean the oven thoroughly really offended her British sense of rightness and so I hope the new tenants will be pleased with their gleaming oven. I have so many, many interesting things to share about our new house like the eggplant-purple kitchen cupboards, the rat-infested room behind the garage, the eerily-cheerful cows painted on the walls, the pink bathtub that drains where it wills with little regard for traditional water disposal, the ginormous underwear left in the dryer when we moved in, and the faces painted on the rotten tree stumps in the back yard. But still more pressing is the story about how Tirzah kept threatening to go into labor but her uterus was lacking the necessary follow-through. I'm trying to goad it into action. Just to show me who's boss, it's going to wait until the middle of the night to kick into high-gear I just know it. But that's okay, I'm ready. I have a bag for myself and the baby all packed, along with snacks, diapers, the car seat, and new baby clothes and blankets all ready in the trunk of our car. I had a midwife appointment on Thursday and despite the fact that my due date is still 4 1/2 weeks away my midwife said she would be very surprised if I made it through the weekend without having the baby. I have since been laundering, folding, and Lysoling everything within an inch of its life. Nothing needs as much Lysol as I use, but I can't get enough of the smell. And it's antibacterial, which is really comforting when you're having a baby and there were recently 5 1/2 dead rats in your house. Luckily only in the basement, but still gross. So I've been having lots of signs that labor is imminent(mostly too graphic for a public forum) but nothing definite like my water breaking or regular contractions. Aaron and I went to the mall and bought me lots of presents, some for now and some for after the baby. We went to L'Occitane and I got some delicious soap and lotion and a really rich lip moisturizer, courtesy of a gift certificate from Irina, who is a lovely person. And now, it's time to talk about stretch marks. I'm loathe to do it, but I feel kind of sorry for myself and hopefully someone will read this and feel sorry for me also, and send me presents to express their sympathy. I like getting presents. Anyway... So I didn't get a single stretch mark with Jack, probably because he was six weeks early. Mysteriously, I am more pregnant now than I was with Jack but weigh less. My midwives kept telling me to take pictures of my perfectly round, stretch mark-free belly but I never got around to it and now it's not perfect anymore. The first infiltrator appeared about a week ago, faintly pink and not that noticeable on the underside of my belly near my hip, but others have come to join it. So on top of getting really antsy about not going into labor I get to watch my skin acquire scars from all the waiting. I feel that motherhood involves enough sacrifice without adding physical blemishes to the list, but that is probably just a reflection of my still-immature attitude. I like my other scars, like the one on my forehead I got from accidentally bouncing a piece of pvc pipe into my head, but stretch marks are ugly. Just one more thing the put things in perspective, to learn to let go of and cross off the list of Things I Shouldn't Really Care About But I'm Young So I Do. I suppose when I'm 60 I'm going to care more about the function of my body than its appearance, but I'm not 60 I'm 24. So hopefully my next post will include a picture of the new baby, who at present still doesn't have a name. Suggestions are welcome, although I told him tonight he doesn't get a name until he comes out. Enough is a enough. I'm going to go Lysol something.