Lazy Fare

So, no. I’m not excited about the baby. I’m just not. It’s not that I won’t love this baby, but I just can’t bring myself to be excited. I don’t know if it’s because of history. Or because I don’t get to do those fun “new baby” activities. Or because I’m having a little issue about work (no one thinks I should need a backup for when I go on maternity leave…like I’m going to continue working those two months). Or because we have to look for new daycare that we can afford, that I think is best for everyone…again (seriously leaning towards Au Pairs). And then there’s the worry about when he/she (probably he) comes. Just how much more lassaiz faire can we be without killing the baby? It’s a normal thing to be completely ridiculous with the first one…charting everything, taking copious pictures, being obsessive about sterilizing everything. And then with the second, you stop doing all that realizing you were making yourself crazy for no good reason and ratchet back the anxiety a few thousand notches. Well, we never really did all that. Again, it’s not that we weren’t/aren’t crazy about our boy…we just didn’t do all that. So just how much more are we going to ratchet back? I can’t even claim I’ve never lost my son (he crawled out the dog door to the sand box when I looked away