The word is out.

So here I am, 36 years old, mother of two relatively self-sufficient children who are well beyond diapers and can easily speak in full sentences, and pregnant with number three. I think I might have lost my mind, but oddly I feel very at peace about it. Mostly, I think, because my hormones have taken over and are preventing me from dealing with the eventual reality of a full-time job and three kids.

11 weeks into this I am disappointed to discover (for the second time) how intensely focused all baby magazines, pregnancy books, blogs and web sites are on first-time mothers. There's all these dumb articles about how to divide up chores with your husband after the baby comes, what to expect at the hospital/during delivery, what your baby's first poop will look like. It makes me want to puke. But the upside is that I realize I've learned a thing or two over the last seven years of parenthood that no magazine article is ever going to tell me. As Oprah would say, these are the things I know for sure.

1. Sometime within the first month of having this baby I will want to kill Chad. I will hate him for his inability to cope with sleep loss, his half-assed cleaning up of the kitchen after dinner and his seeming refusal to notice when he should probably get up out of his chair and HELP somebody with something. This feeling of hatred in no way reflects his real and unrelentingly cheerful attitude, his absolute willingness to do homework, play basketball/t-ball/soccer/tea party, his innate ability to make even morning toothbrushing fun and his overall general willingness to do just about anything to keep things running smoothly.

2. There's no one way to skin a cat, I mean, take care of a baby. Every baby is different. So is every family. What worked with Grace absolutely did not work with Lauren and I'm sure I'll be figuring out something new yet again. But that's exactly what we'll do: Figure it out. And it will be fine.

3. I probably won't have this crushing wave of love that comes over me at the moment of delivery. Yes, of course I love this baby already. But the actual reality of love, that moment of WOW I would do anything for this child takes a few days, at least for me. That's okay. I'm not a weirdo.

4. This is the luckiest baby alive because he/she has a village of people who are excitedly awaiting his/her arrival and whose hearts are filled with love and gratitude for this gift in which they will share. That makes me a lucky mom too.

Maybe I DO know a thing or two....

Sometimes I have a moment with my kids where I feel like I really might know what I'm doing. I recognize this feeling because I have it at work quite a lot. But the difference between work and parenting is that work is somewhat more predictable in its behaviors and cycles than any kid I've ever met. Either way, I was feeling pretty good last night. My cases in point:

A) Lauren and the band-aid
Put a band-aid on Lauren and within 7 minutes she will pull it off. Like all kids, she loves band-aids, which means that as of today I am fresh out of them because she has used them all, and not necessarily for a legitimate injury.

Last night she fell in the driveway. Hard. Bloody knee, skinned elbow, doting big sister getting in the way of mama's comfort. At this point my band-aid inventory was already down to just 2. I cleaned and kissed the knee, convinced her that her elbow would be just fine, and asked Grace at least three times to PLEASE get out of the way while I am trying to wash this bloody knee in the kitchen sink while keeping Lauren's hands off the knife rack. Twenty minutes later Lauren was tucked into bed with her doggie and book and I was on the couch.

"Maaaameeee..... MAAAAMEEEE!"

I tried to ignore her, but I knew for a fact she had taken off her bandaid and was freaking out at her neosporin-greased and still semi-bloody knee. I also knew the band-aid would not stick again. And I only had one band-aid left in the entire freaking house. So instead of ignoring her, which is my usual MO post-bedtime, I got the band-aid and delivered it with a brief speech about how this was the last. one. in. the. house.

B) Grace and the....uh... bathroom

Right after the band-aid incident I was settling in for the thrilling conclusion of The Biggest Loser when I heard the other voice floating down the stairs, this one a little weepier, but not so freaked out.

"Mommmmm.... can you come heeeere?"

I looked at Chad. For reasons unknown to me, Grace is unable to poop by herself after 8 pm. Up I went again and sure enough, there she was on the potty. To give her a little break, she was having some tummy trouble. One children's chewable Pepto-Bismol (LOVE that stuff!) and a hug and kiss later she was back in bed, albeit a little puny looking.

Finally I made it back to the couch, feeling like a mother who really knows her children. Knows what they need and when. And how to deliver it.

At least I felt that way until this morning, when it occurred to me that maybe my children really are quite predictable. And I've just been really well trained.

Lucky me!

I'm not sure if you all are aware, but I was named Mother of the Year recently.

Thanks to Hannah, for a total crack-up and Happy Mother's Day to all of us!

TGIF

I actually hate the phrase TGIF, but it's really the most appropriate thing I can think of right now. Here are a few highlights from my week.

Monday – on the way to the airport for a meeting to present creative I get a call that we absolutely must send the creative ahead of the meeting because they have a team meeting scheduled before we get there. And, oh, could we also make it in time for a 3:00 meeting instead of the 4:30 we were scheduled for? Arrive in Tampa, drive straight to the client's office then wait in the lobby while they have a meeting that we can see through the glass walls of the conference room. During said meeting the team is looking at copies of the material we are supposed to be presenting. After a while, they bring us in to present creative they've already seen.

Tuesday – can't sleep in hotel so am up from roughly 3:30 am on. Get on 7 am flight then go straight to office and write two brochures before picking up my children, who fight like banshees the whole way home.

Wednesday - more banshees in the back seat. I actually pull the car off the road and (without yelling, which I'm kinda proud of because I really wanted to scream) tell them that they will not be having bedtime stories tonight. This works. Kind of.

Thursday – drive 45 minutes for a 30-minute meeting that does not result in any new work, but a vague promise to think about our new 3D animation capabilities.

Friday – on the way to the office get a call from my partner informing me that the 3D animator we just hired (who is supposed to be moving here from Georgia in about two weeks) went to the hospital with chest pain yesterday and is today, at noon, having six bypasses. Six.

I think I'd better go home.

P.S. The good news about Monday is that we got the business. Yay!!