I have a routine. Everyday I'm up by 6:30 or 7, depending on which wakes me up first, the alarm or Bella. Most mornings I go to the gym for a pilates class, and then I come home and start working from my sweet little home office. I usually spend part of the late afternoon cleaning the house. There is always SOMETHING that's dirty in our house and requires immediate attention. I guess between dogs and a husband, my floors don't stand a chance and the laundry machine better suck it up and spin. Around 5pm I figure out what we're having for dinner so that we can eat by the time Dave gets home. This isn't so much because I'm a "have-dinner-on-the-table-when-he-gets-home" kind of wife. It's more because I'm hungry and dinner is my favorite meal of the day. Then we usually watch our shows and hop into bed by 9:30 to ensure at least a half an hour of reading before we fall asleep. Fairly ordinary life, right?
There's one part of it that's not ordinary. It's a little weird, I think. Don't judge me: I watch at least one episode of A Baby Story on TLC every. single. day. I get emotionally involved in every show. Even if I've seen the episode before, I sit in front of the TV and labor right along with the moms. I listen to the doctors and nurses reassure me that everything is going well. I think my stomach muscles must clench for the entire 30-minute show. And then, like a child, I cry every time the baby comes out. It's not like I don't know a baby is coming. I know the show so well that I'm sure the baby will be out about 20 minutes into the show, followed immediately by a ViaCord Blood or Pampers commercial. I don't cry in anticipation; I cry the second the baby comes out. Every. Time.
It's like watching Benji when I was little: I knew Benji was going to live. I'd seen the movie about 30 times. But I still cried with every viewing while chanting, "Go, Benji, go!" Sometimes I'd hide somewhere in the loft to watch Benji run so my mom wouldn't see me crying while I watched. I wasn't embaressed, but I knew she'd think something was wrong. Nothing was wrong. Nothing except for the fact that Benji was desperately trying to save those two kids' lives if you would just LISTEN TO HIM BARKING AT YOU.
Tomorrow, though, the routine will be broken. Tomorrow is going to be one of the coolest days of my life. I'll probably still get up at 6:30 and I might even go to the gym. But after that, I'm going to watch a baby story. But this time I'm watching THE baby story. I will be in the hospital with my sister-in-law watching her new little girl come into the world. I don't think they blur things out in the actual birthing suite, so it might be a little shocking. I will be taking pictures and holding my breath for the full 30 minutes it takes her to push the baby out. (Dave just informed me they edit A Baby Story down to fit into a 30 minute television show and the moms are actually in screaming pain like that for up to 24 hours, but I'm not buying his scare tactics...) I am honored and excited to be there tomorrow. Hopefully I don't get so excited when she's coming out that I shout, "Go, Benji, go!" Either way, it's sure to be a one of my favorite days, ever.