39 Weeks

  Rachel's officially pretty pregnant.  She's at 39 weeks right now, which is French for 'the baby could come on any day'.  We were out walking at the new park by the Volkswagen plant and we ran into a lady I know from the YMCA.  She came up to me today at the Y and told me that Rachel was the best looking full term pregnant lady she had ever seen.  (For the record, I agree with her)  Other than the baby-sized basketball under her shirt, she doesn't look that pregnant.  (I know that's kind of like saying that other than Congress and the President that the leadership in Washington is functioning well, but you know what I mean.)  Rachel's still feeling great, although she says it was a bit strange to not be at work today.  (Her last day at TVA was Friday)

  We have no idea when little Hercules will show up.  Could be today...  but I think we've still got a little while.  I don't know why, I just feel that way.  I've been wrong before, though, and everyone knows that I know nothing about having babies.

  I did go to Daddy Boot Camp on Saturday.  I was the only person in class, which meant that we got out an hour early.  I now know everything possible to know about babies.  There is still plenty I don't know, but if I haven't picked it up in the four hundred hours of classes I've been to by now, the Lord doesn't intend for me to know it.  We talked about crying and labor and sleeping and intimacy and pets and in-laws and poison (not the band) and a bunch of other stuff... and I can say that I feel as qualified to have a baby as any man could be, except for the fact that I've never changed a diaper or held a baby for longer than two minutes.  But I will say, in my defense, that I've raised two cats from kittens to three year olds, so that should count for something, right?

  Right?