They Call it "Due Date" for a Reason

With the due date fast approaching (three days from now), it is now evident that imminent birth of our child three weeks ago was a mirage. A mirage, created solely by us, the first-time parents. We're kind of like the "obvious tourists." You know, the ones who have to go to Cheers in Boston, spend $100 on beads in New Orleans, or hang out in Beale Street speaking in German. We might as well have "First Time Parents" tattoed to our foreheads.

Now people call to ask if we had the baby and forgot to tell them (a relative, who will remain unnamed to protect their identity, actually called to see if we had gone to the hospital and forgot to call).

We must also invent ways to pass the time, as Shelley is pretty much housebound watching movies on Lifetime and Oxygen in the bedroom, and I am Chore Boy. Chores actually are a non-satisfying way to pass the time, but cleanliness is productive, I suppose. Can't wait to pawn off dusting and vacuuming on the kid. I wonder if April will be too early?

So we head into the last weekend of our non-parental lives (she's scheduled to be induced next Thursday if nothing happens by then). And it's obvious it's a boy, because it's Super Bowl weekend. Shelley says it's a girl.