NOW We're in the Final Stretch

People have gleefully been declaring me "almost done!" for months now.  Huh-uh.  Now that it's only a little over 24 hours to slice and dice time, NOW I'm almost done.  One more sleepless night to go.

So much to do and nobody will let me do any of it.  My Mom is here, anxiously waiting for my liver to fail or something, and Tommy Boy is following her lead in keeping me off my feet.  UGH, I hate forced rest.  Tom is going food shopping for me later so that the kids have what they need for the week and I'm going to have him buy cupcakes for Jack's half birthday on Monday rather than bake them myself as planned.  Hopefully, my poor guy can actually go to school.  When we got home from our dinner date (DELICIOUS!!!  Totally worth the heartburn it is causing.), Jack was in our bed, feverish and glassy-eyed.  I think he and Daddy will be going for a sick visit when the Ped's office opens, just in case.  He also has a very weird lump on his arm that has Tom very worried and me mildly concerned (very strange to switch worry wart roles!) so he's eager to get that checked out.  I can't believe they are down for the count so close to the finish line -- we got through the winter healthy and now Jack has a mystery illness and Nat's nose is running.  I want to pitch a tent in the yard and sleep out there until I have to be at the hospital Monday morning.  If I get sick and the surgery has to be delayed, my Mom will probably stroke out and die from the stress.  We don't need that.

I cannot believe I am going to be leaving my babies for 4 days.  Nattie and I have to talk about that later.  I didn't want to scare her too soon so I've only casually mentioned how I'll be in the hospital after her sister is born but I don't want to leave her an ill-prepared mess for everyone who will be watching her.

My nap this afternoon left me bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 3:30 a.m. but I better try to get back to bed.  Lord knows what this day holds besides more swelling.  My Mom freaked when she got here and saw me earlier.  I am starting to look really puffy, like a cross between the Pillsbury Doughboy and Angelina Jolie (sadly, the AJ resemblance begins and ends with my swollen lips.)  Strangely, my feet aren't that bad; it's my hands and face that are swelling like they did when I was so sick at the end with Jack.  We won't even talk about my new stretch marks.  Seriously, it's not fair that I'm getting a whole new set in my third pregnancy!  Ah well, life is not fair, who above the age of 2 doesn't know that?