I hope...

In oh... say... 8 weeks (but, no more than 9) I'm going to have a baby. Specifically, I'm going to have a baby boy. More specifically, I'm adding an extra person to the world. Even more specifically, I made a human being... like, from scratch. I don't even bake cakes from scratch!

This is surreal. and terrifying. and unbelievable. and exhilarating. I'm going to own a person. I'm going to say things like "My son", "My little boy", and "Sorry, I can't right now, _____ is napping." I'll eventually hear the word "Mama." And perhaps, I might actually start feeling like an adult. ;)

This time last year I was planning a trip to Alaska; I was scouring the web to find deals on clothing and shoes. This time last year I was getting monthly pedicures and purses to match the season.
Yesterday, I did 3 loads of his laundry with Dreft detergent and I enjoyed it. This morning I was overjoyed to find a sock monkey on sale. How glorious?

In 8(ish) weeks I'm going to have diapers and sloppy kisses (I hope) and food on the floor (which my puppies will LOVE) and extra laundry. I'm going to have a delicious smelling baby and sleep deprivation and two whole months off from work. My child will have amazing grandparents and doting aunts and uncles.

I hope my son is brilliant and handsome. I hope he has dark hair and he doesn't ever know what a kegger party is or what marijuana smells like. I hope he loves to read and has dorky hobbies like having an ant farm or playing scrabble. I hope he loves school and has a good appetite. I hope he's easy going like Daddy but driven like Mama. I hope he loves animals and people. I hope he lets me dress him for years to come. I hope he saves his pennies in a piggy bank. I hope he loses his front teeth and he has a lisp for weeks. I hope he doesn't tell us right away when he stops believing in Santa, the tooth fairy and the Easter Bunny because he's afraid the presents will stop. I hope he's sensitive and thoughtful. I hope he gets skinned knees and dirt under his fingernails and is curious about life. I hope he wants to keep the salamander he found under a rock or have a pet something.

I hope I'm fun and stop worrying whether the house is clean enough or the savings is enough. I hope I go to work and find a marshmallow in my hair or spit-up on my shirt and it makes me smile, not cringe. I hope I make the time I need to, to still be me and be a wife and have a career and be an amazing Mom... simultaneously. I hope I find an accessory to a small toy on the floor and know exactly which warrior or army man it belongs to. I hope I learn to love animated movies. I hope I still have date nights with my husband... without the baby tagging along. I hope I still care about my appearance to some small extent but I don't stress over a wrinkle in the cuff of my pants. I hope I lose the "baby weight" quickly and painlessly.

I hope he's healthy and has all his parts working properly. I hope his smile melts me that same way his Daddy's does. I hope he cries the minute I birth him because the world seems too much. I hope he knows how much I love him and he remembers what my heartbeat sounds like from the inside. I hope I can give him everything he needs and most things he wants. I hope we're the best parents we know how to be. I hope we can take him to amazing places and he can experience the world with us. I hope, at some point, he tells me he hates me because then I know he's demonstrating independence and that I've done something right.

I hope I enjoy every minute of finding out the answers to all of these questions.