holy crap.

Months after Emily was born, I remember sitting on her bedroom floor, looking up at my husband and saying, "Holy crap. We have a kid." He smiled and nodded, as if to say, been there, thought that. Of course if I'm being honest, I still find myself looking in the rear view mirror at my now 28-month-old singing The Wheels on the Bus and think that very same thought. Holy crap.

Today I sit here 38 weeks pregnant watching Dr. Oz (who, by the way, is talking about how to cope as a woman over 40 thanks, buddy) leaning back at a135-degree angle on David's hotel bed, thinking some familiar thoughts: Holy crap. I'm pregnant? When did that happen? How...? Never mind. Someone stop the train and let me off for a minute. And while you're at it? Please stop the moving train, the new job train, and the when-the-bleep-did-I-turn-33? train.

People have been asking me lately how I'm doing. It's a loaded question, and there's no short answer, so I really appreciate them even asking. The totally false and yet completely honest version is that I'm fine. Now if you're a man, you think that's the end of the story (hence, the totally false version). If you're a woman, you realize no woman uses the f-word unless she means it. It's like Pork (the other white meat): fine is the other f-word.

When I was selling real estate I operated at a different pace. That normal was different than today's normal. Then-normal was a higher base level of stress, a faster pace of activity and a constant multi-tasking way of thinking. The biggest thing I remember changing once I became a SAHM was the stress level. Probably because the other two didn't change that much, they just looked different. For example, as we got into a routine I could feel my stress go down - and better yet, stay down. However, the fast-pace and multi-tasking just changed their appearance: from showing 15 houses in 4" heels to leaping over the exersaucer to catch the toddler before whacking her noggin on the corner of the trunk. Good thing I gave up the heels with the office.

How am I doing? I feel more stress than my biggest closing month ever in real estate. --Which also happened to be the same month I was personally dealing with my largest family crisis to date and the month I was getting married. The difference is that I'm pregnant, and that's something I take very seriously. I refuse to let the circumstances around me affect the health of this baby. So, I'm doing my best to take in today. Tomorrow is tomorrow.

How am I doing? I voluntarily shipped off my husband to begin a life we couldn't because there was no way we were giving up our fab OBGYN and hospital 6 weeks from Ethan's due date. He's my best friend, the grounding presence in our home. Just imagine for a moment how super-calm it is in our house right now. Super-calm like a freaking EF-5 tornado.

I don't have a to-do list. I have several. I had to break it down into categories. I have a baby TDL, a moving-out TDL, a moving-in TDL, a household-stuff-that-has-to-get-done-whether-we're-in-the-middle-of-a-move-or-not TDL, a yes-i'm-grateful-for-the-design-contracts-but-I-had-more-time-last-month-when-we-first-talked-about-this-uber-huge-project TDL and an Emily-survival TDL. I need a freaking personal assistant to organize the to-do lists.

What I know is it will all get done. Ethan will be born. I have an inordinate amount of help. My husband rocks and brings me to tears with pride. And if it doesn't all happen as gracefully and with as much order as I'd like, I'm pretty certain I'll be the only one that notices.

So these days we survive by way of videos to Daddy, dress-up in jammies and high-heels, and chocolate ice cream fixes whenever we darn well please. Can I get an Amen?

Family beach trip and one last relaxing vaca for Daddy.

Shopping in her closet with her baby...and heels...and jammies.

Because shopping is an event.
(Easter dress, dress-up hat, new shoes - that's all her.)

Early-morning flowers delivered by the hotel bellman from that wonderful man I married. Not sure whether it makes me miss him more, or less.