One Final Run

I finally said, "EFF IT!" and broke house arrest.  Radio blaring, drove like a bat out of hell to Target, knowing it would be my last chance to drive anywhere for at least 2 weeks.   It's only a 5 minute ride but I fit in some My Chemical Romance, Jay-Z and Springsteen at newborn-deafening volume.  Good, good times for me.  I couldn't find a hanging diaper stacker but picked up the baby bathtub I needed (bought the infant soap last night and realized this morning that I didn't have the infant tub to go with it) and some other stuff I didn't need but whatever.  This was it, my final night of freedom before newborn lockdown and I can't think of anywhere better to spend it than at Target, my mothership.

Now I just have to decide what my final snack before midnight will be.  Such pressure!  It has to be tasty and lasting because there is no telling when I'll be able to eat solid food again.  Am I starting to get nervous?  OH HELL YEAH.  This time tomorrow night, all that will be between my guts and thin air are some staples.  That didn't seem like a big deal back in May when I was obsessed with having another child.  Now, I just have to remind myself that this will totally be worth it, just like it was the last two times.  All of me with the exception of my abdominal region wholeheartedly agrees.