Only after toppling over the babysitter’s mailbox Saturday night while backing up in her driveway did I realize I’ve hit the point of no return with this pregnancy. The point where I’m a hazard to myself and others the more I’m out and about in public. The point where even the back up “beep” on my Jeep can’t prevent me from hitting inanimate objects. The point where I’m voting for Hillary Clinton in a primary. Yes, it’s time to start my maternity leave from the world even though the baby’s not even here yet.
When grocery store clerks and strangers begin commenting, “Whoa, any day now,” you know it’s obvious to the world you’ve had it and you just want to be delivered from your 40 week (physical and mental) state of pregnancy.
So what other choice do I have but to try to self-induce with black licorice, raspberry leaf herbal tea, power walks around the mall, Mexican bean pizza with extra jalepenos and shocking exposés about Joran Van Der Sloot featuring a fired up Greta Van Susteren? Nothing is working! I’m saving the castor oil for next week.