A contraction-al update

It's just after 10 here, and we just put the Psycho-Fuss Munchie to bed. Isaac has been a cranky punk all day. He threw three temper tantrums this afternoon, which is completely unlike him. I don't even remember the last time he threw ONE, let alone three. I feel so bad for the guy. All week Dada and I have been on the phone almost nonstop with this house-buying beeswax, paying a fraction of the attention to Isaac that he usually gets. Perhaps this is good preparation for having an attention-hogging brother in the near future, but it makes me feel like a terrible parent. Yes, I know, blah blah we're doing what's best for him and his brother blah blah. I don't care. All I want to do is sit still, stop talking on the phone, and pway twains with my son.

It's been basically twelve hours now and the contractions are sloooooowwwwwwwllllyy getting closer together. Now I can expect one every 6 - 11 minutes. And they hurt. Not unbearably, but still. It's impossible to tell if they hurt more now because they're getting stronger, or because I've had so many contractions that my back muscles ache. Oh, and they are tantalizingly real: the kind that start as a tightening in my lower back and then wrap themselves quickly around my abdomen like a claustrophobic heating blanket.

I'm really hoping we can put off this whole baby-out-popping business at least until the morning. Grandma can't fly out until tomorrow morning when a new day of flights begins, and I would prefer Isaac to try to get a good night's rest in his own bed before sending him off for a day of romping with Ella. Though, U.B., if you'd like to wait until we've met with our local banker and secured a loan with him, that would actually be ideal for Mommy and Daddy, K?