38 Weeks: Just Chillin' and Observations of a 2-year-old

I'm officially term. Sienna doesn't care.

She's waited forever to be born, and I've waited forever for her to be here. Sienna doesn't care.

She "dropped" about a month ago, making my bladder the size of a teaspoon, which causes me to walk around like there's a bowling ball between my legs. Sienna doesn't care.

I'm still at station -1, still 80% effaced, and still not dialated. (Well, I "may" be a "fingertip" dialated, says the dr. But I think he just offered that up half-heartedly to appease the look on my face). Sienna doesn't care.

I know, I know. First pregnancies usually go late. There should be no reason to think she'd come early. Get over it, Britney. Besides, she's a lot easier to take care of in there than outside of here (although I'd be bored out of my mind in there). She's clearly enjoying herself, so let her be. Stop with the Britney pity party.

Moving on... observations of a 2-year-old:

1) Can we address this basketball obsession for a moment? It's been going on for over a year now. The boy plays basketball every.single.night. He watches basketball on TV, live pick up games, and even high school basketball games. Whenever he sees a basketball hoop, like on walks or driving, he shouts: "Mommy! Yo quiero dunk it!" (Mom, I want to dunk it!) He goes to "sports camp" each Saturday, where he is supposed to learn/play a new sport each week. You guessed it. Every Saturday, without fail, he's the only kid not playing the other sports, but in the corner, by himself, shooting hoops. I think we have a phenom on our hands. Or, at least, as my husband says, he has the passion. And hey, isn't that all you really need?

2) Boys break things. A lot. Latest casualties are door handles and blinds. Note to self: next house will not have doors or window coverings. I'm looking forward to tea parties.

3) Brae officially knows more Spanish than I do (and I know quite a bit). Since he was 13 weeks old, he has spent 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, communicating in Spanish at his little community immersion daycare/school. I'm not good at math, but that is a LOT of exposure to Spanish. Recently, he's been rambling a lot, and I sometimes can't understand him. I figured it was 2-year-old jibberish. Apparently not, apparently it's 2-year-old jibberish, but in Spanish. At school yesterday when we picked him up, the teachers were chuckling that Brae refers to one of the instructors as a "lechuza." I was puzzled. I didn't know that word. As the teachers were rummaging through books to try and find a picture to explain it to me, Brae comes up and says, "Mommy, la lechuza is owl." Tygh and I stared at each other, stunned.

4) Brae is bossy. I've noticed it for a while, so I decided to ask his teachers about it. They nodded. He's "el jefe" (the chief). But they just shrugged and said that he's the natural born leader of the group. Thanks, ladies, for putting a positive spin on it.

5) We've entered the land of make-believe. I'm now finding myself standing behind the bathroom door, giggling, as he takes a bath just listening to him talk to (re-phrase: order around) Mr. Potato Head. Warms my heart.