Thursday, March 29, 2012
International Space Station
I’m more than a little panicked about what we’re going to do with the two-year old when I do go into labor, as it’s been predicted by reliable sources (a Magic 8-Ball at Goodwill and my beloved obstetrician) that this time around everything is likely to go “very quickly.” Though our two-year-old is a tremendously good sport, I’m not sure how well she’d handle being pawned off on a random nurse in the maternity ward while mama shoots a baby out her vagina in a room down the hall.
It had been my hope and plan to have a babysitter in place by now—one who would be able to be bribed into being on-call throughout the month of April, including in the middle of the night—but so far no luck. Sittercity, it turns out, is a lot like Match.com. Generally speaking the people that you're interested in aren't interested back, and the people that are interested in you aren't your type.
photo courtesy morgueFile