My sister, Stephanie, is due to have her first baby any day. Actually she was due last Thursday, but since those of you who've had babies know about that, we won't dwell on the pure mental exhaustion of going over your due date, not to mention the extreme physical exhaustion and uncomfortabilities and such, for her sake. We'll just nod our heads sympathetically and say "yeah, it sucks."
I'm excited for many a reason. Finally someone from my family will join me in this crazy club of motherhood. We've had some good bonding chats about "stuff" already. It will only get better. Also she's having a boy, so our little boys can grow up together and be buddies! Except that Steph and her husband will probably have children who will easily play in the NBA. Long-limbed tow-heads who enjoy every athletic challenge. And my kids will not. Play in the NBA. Both Ben and I have plenty of natural rhythm. And that could translate into sports, but we may be raising those more of a height for, say, soccer and not basketball. So these boys could be physical opposites. But I'm sure they'll love each other anyway.
So, my dad is out of town, having a jolly time (I'm guessing, despite the jetlag and quick-paced schedule) holding meetings in Denmark, the Ukraine, Germany and France (I am jealous). The plan was that Steph deliver about a week early so that my dad could be there to see the new babe. I even sent a few prayers over in that direction. I think my prayers must have been slightly circumvented but have now arrived and kicked in. My dad is due back at the end of this week. And I won't be surprized if the baby decides to accommodate his grandpa. Just not in the way we were hoping. And that tells you what kind of kid Steph's getting! A pleaser, after his own fashion.