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September 26, 2001

I'm a little overwhelmed by the generosity shown to me by my family and friends. I've had three baby showers during the past three weekends, and now Quinn has more bibs and large equipment than she'll be able to shake a rattle at. As I opened each girly-pink sleeper and flower-themed room accessory, I couldn't help but mumble a request beneath my breath:

Sweet Jesus, I hope she's still a girl.

Here are random pictures of pregnant me along with some of my peeps:

Me, my sister Peggy, my cousin Maggie, and my sister Julie at my family shower. What's behind my back? Maybe it's a surprise for you!	Colleen, me, and Sue at the shower they gave me. I am bursting with baby goodness!

Here's a picture of Colleen's mom, Sue's mom, and my mom...they look innocent, don't they? Here's the truth about them:

They sat in the back of the room as I opened my presents, and every time I turned around to show my mom a gift or to ask her a question, the three of them had their heads together, and they were tittering and carrying on, paying no attention whatsoever to the guest of honor and her needs.

"MOM!" I bellowed when I caught her ignoring me. "HELLO!"

"It's not my fault!" she said. "Mrs. Sharp asked me a question!"

A few seconds later, the sound of their giggles drowned out my card-reading and wrapping paper-crunching.

"MOM!" I said. "WHAT DID I JUST OPEN?"

"Spoons!" she yelled, looking around wildly, changing her expression to show great interest as I held up the bouncy chair I'd just received.

Quinn's room is now officially complete. All we're doing is packing it with clothes and diapers; if she wants additional decor, she's going to have to find her own way to the mall. Here are some updated pictures:

I went to the doctor today for my weekly appointment (I'm 36 weeks along out of 40), and after a rather unpleasant examination, the doctor determined that Quinn is showing no signs of leaving the building. Nope, she's perfectly happy where she is--floating safely in my stomach, sitting on my bladder, obstructing my airway, and ensuring that I get heartburn after eating the smallest morsel of food. Would you be in a big hurry to leave?

We had quite a gathering at my house to watch America: A Tribute to Heroes. I dragged my niece Maureen off her couch to watch it with us, because she was all Mopey Moperpants about a bad grade on an AP Chemistry test. Then my brother Dennis appeared after stuffing himself on barbequed ribs with my parents--lucky for him, this time they were from a restaurant. Although there were only four of us, it felt like a full house because the phone NEVER STOPPED RINGING. Peggy was in a froth because she couldn't identify each of the artists. Colleen had catty remarks that were lost on her husband and had to be shared with another girl. Everyone on the planet called during or after Mariah Carey's performance to mock me because it seems I am her only living fan.

It was shortly after Mariah's performance that my mom checked in.

"So, Mom, are you watching the concert?"

"Yes," she said thoughtfully. "But I don't seem to know anyone. I recognized some people on the phones, but that's about it."

"Well, you must have known Bruce Springsteen."

"Oh yes. I knew him."

"And Billy Joel?"

"Yeah...I knew him, too."

"And did you see Mariah Carey?"

"Yes!" Her voice became bright. "I was wondering what she was doing out of the booby hatch."

I put the phone in my lap and let out a strained howl of laughter. The kind that you have to follow by a pause because you need to collect your breath to let out an enormous belly laugh. Dennis had to take the phone. I was inconsolable for a few minutes.

Booby hatch? The thought of those two words still makes me cringe and crack up at the same time.

Later, she called back to ask us another concert-related question, and while she was chatting with Dennis, she noticed Eddie Vedder on the screen.

"Hey," she interrupted. "Isn't that Chuck Goudie?"

Dennis dropped the phone into his lap and grabbed at his throat, strangled by laughter. (For you non-Chicagoans out there, Chuck Goudie is a local ABC reporter.) He finally picked up the phone and put it to his ear.

"Did I make a mistake?" she was asking.

My mom called one afternoon when the baby's room was just about done.

"I have an idea for carpeting for the room," she announced.

"We have carpeting," I told her.

"No, this carpeting will match the theme! You know that stuff we have out on our patio...the green stuff?"

"Astroturf?"

"Well, yeah, I guess that's it. I thought..."

"Mom! ASTROTURF?! In a baby's room?"

"But...it would match the theme. You know, garden? Green?"

"Don't you think astroturf would be a little...scratchy?...maybe?"

"Well, I think they make it in soft..."

"Astroturf? In 'soft'? Mom, do you WANT to be on my web page?"

Four weeks until my due date. Four weeks until this man becomes a father.

Andy: The Groovy Years