So, the "due date" was today, and I've had, I think, one contraction that was noticeable. That's ok, though. Evie went over, and I kind of thought this baby would, too, until a few weeks ago when it started feeling like labor all the time. (Prodromal labor, anyone?)

I'm back to thinking that we'll be here for at least a few more days again. That's not a problem. I sleep more this way.  My brother's birthday is the 10th, so having the baby that day would be nice. Happy birthday, Ryan.

Today we went to a get together at Paul's aunt's house for the 4th of July, and it was really nice. I'm generally really nervous for these things, since small talk with the in-laws isn't exactly my cup of tea, but today I felt pretty good, and the whole day went off without a hitch. We forgot Evelyn's bathing suit, but we lucked out in that Paul's grandma had one for her just in case there was any water there. They set up a little wading pool for the little kids, and you just couldn't get Evie out of it. She had a blast.

My five year high school reunion was cancelled, which is too bad, but I wasn't planning on going anyway; it was scheduled for, like, a week from today or something, and come on. I'm about to pop. No thank you.

Can I just say that I love LaserLawyer's site? 

I'm praying that the Lord sorts out our childcare situation. When the baby comes, I will have three months of paid maternity leave, then when I go back I will have two full months of free daycare for the baby at the drop-in daycare on site at work. This is great. I can nurse the baby during the day, and I'll be, like, 10 steps away from the daycare in case there's something amiss.

There are a couple things missing in this arrangement, though. For one thing, that's only childcare for the new baby, and not for Evelyn. I suppose Evelyn could continue to go to Paul's cousin's, and I would appreciate that, but it seriously feels like such an imposition. She doesn't charge us anything at all, and you know we'd be paying quite a chunk of change for a daycare center or a baby-sitter. Even if we were to apply and be approved for Title XX, I'm not sure I'm a fan of Evie being in a huge daycare center with people that don't know her or love her where she can pick up who knows what or be bullied by any kid in there.

Plus, there's the question of what on earth we're going to do when those two months pass. Where on earth are our two kids going to go? There's no way we can actually ask Paul's cousin to take two kids, and we just absolutely cannot afford daycare for two. We just can't. There's the option of Title XX again, but honestly, I can't stand the idea of someone who doesn't love my kids being the one taking care of them. I just can't.

Also, I know that I hated with the fire of a thousand suns every second of daycare growing up. I understand that it was necessary, and I don't hold it against my parents; I lived through it. My sister loved it, actually. But I just can't imagine intentionally putting my babies into something that I dreaded so deeply.

I so sincerely wish that being home were an option for me right now, but it's not. I mean, I suppose that Paul could work full time on top of going to school full time, but then we'd never, ever see each other and neither one of us would ever get a 15 minute break from life. There just wouldn't be time for it. Any down time Paul would have would need to be spent studying, and any downtime I would have would need to be spent doing housewife things, since there's no way I could sincerely expect Paul to do much in the way of housework with the kind of workload he would have.

Sighhhhhh.

So we're really kinda stuck right now. We would sincerely appreciate prayer; we honestly have no idea what we're going to do once the new baby's five months old. None.

I'll let you all know when the baby comes!

To end this on a not-so-depressing note, did you know that the inventor of toilet paper had his name printed on the toilet paper? It's true.

Sunday was Father's Day, so it is only fitting to have a post about fathers, right? Well, as I've said on here once before, I am a daddy's girl. I always have been. I think it has to do with my sister, since when she came along, my mom was, obviously, pretty busy with the new baby, so somebody had to make me feel important (or whatever). This is my assumption. However, I do know that one of the first sentences I could say was "Pick her up!" Since my mom always had my sister in her arms, if I wanted to be held, my mom would tell my dad, "Michael, pick her up."

So I learned to say it, too.

Wasn't I a cutie?

I remember crying for my dad if I was hurt. Not to the exclusion of my mom, but I do specifically remember one incidence where I cried for my mom and it seemed weird because I was so used to crying for my dad. (In case my parents read this, which I know you will, we were living in "Apartment A," where Ryan pulled the banister out of the wall, and you guys were swinging Betsy and me back and forth in that big, white blanket like it was a hammock, and we bumped heads. We both cried for Mom, and then when we calmed down you gave us orange juice. )

So I will now list a few memories about my dad.

My dad is the one who taught my sister and me how to braid hair.

My dad's mantra: "Sing it straight."

For some reason, I seem to remember that my mom always read books to us, but my dad would tell us stories and we'd have to imagine the scenery ourselves. Once, when my mom was away with training for the Reserves, I remember my dad telling us the story of Jack and the Beanstalk before bed.

During that same several days, my sister fell and her arm came out of the socket. My dad had to get her dressed (putting her poor little arms through the sleeves of a shirt) and take the two of us to the emergency room, sans my mom.

One of my absolute favorite memories of all time is seeing my dad play with Betsy. She was probably 4 or 5 years old, and she had a penny in her hand. My dad had a penny in his hand, and he kept touching his penny to her penny to make them click and counting them up. He wasn't adding any pennies to her, but he kept counting higher. Betsy was dying of laughter.

And now, to talk about the other father in my life.

I told Paul today that if it had been backwards, if I had, somehow, by way of immaculate conception, had children first, I would still pick Paul to be their daddy. Paul was kind of blindsided by the fact that he was going to be a father the first time around. I won't go into detail, but it was hard. It was hard on him and on our relationship. There were times when I sincerely questioned whether he would ever bond with Evelyn or love her because the whole situtation was so difficult. In my heart of hearts, though, I knew that he would be a good father; the timing just wasn't what we had expected, and it threw us for a loop.

Evelyn, though, loves her daddy, and you know what? Her daddy loves her. I will now share with you the story of how I first knew that we were going to "make it" at this parenting thing and that he was coming around.

We live in an apartment complex, and there are just all kinds of people here. In the building next to ours, there used to live a woman who would get out to her car faster than her kids and then lean on the horn until they came out. One afternoon, Paul went out to say something to her. She said, "Well, I'm just calling my daughter." Paul said, "Ok, but you're waking up my daughter." She kind of rolled her eyes and said something about moving. Whatever. That's not important to our story. What matters is that Paul wanted Evie to be able to get a good nap.

I have memories about Paul with Evie. I'll only share a few because it is late. Here goes:

In the hospital, they draw babies' blood by sticking them in the heel and collecting it. Then they put one of those weird, circular band-aids on it. After we got Evie home, Paul was the one to take the band-aid off, and she cried. He said, "Oh, I'm sorry baby," and kissed her little head.

He bought her the ugliest frog you've ever seen. She will not sleep without it. I'm not kidding. On more than one occasion I would nurse or rock Evelyn to sleep and then take her to her crib, only to have her wake up crying. She would then see her frog and roll over toward him and go to sleep.

Evelyn waits for Paul to come hold her hand before she tries to walk down the stairs.

Evelyn loves to sit on the floor in front of where Paul sits and lean on his legs.

She also loves to climb into his lap and give him hugs.

This isn't so much a memory as it is a comment, but Paul pretty much deserves a medal for doing all of the parenting stuff the last couple of months. As it has gotten hard for me to get up and down and whatnot, Paul has bathed her, changed her, dressed her, rocked her, and gotten up with her in the middle of the night. The only thing he doesn't do is nurse her, but even when I'm doing that, he brings her to me.

Come to think of it, he's always done those things for her, even before he realized that he loved her and bonded with her. He did them out of caring for me.

And now he does them because he loves her so deeply.

On Sunday at church our pastor was talking about being a dad and giving pointers, if you will. At one point he said, "I didn't learn these things from my dad; I learned them from my kids." I think that having Evie has taught Paul and me a lot more than just how to function on close to no sleep and how to put a squirmy little girl's hair into pigtails.

Although, now that we're on that subject, Paul's pretty good at doing her hair, too...

I am in a terrible mood. I am tired of having contractions all the time that are not making the baby come. Everyone is on my nerves.

Seriously, everyone needs to leave me alone.