You guys would not recognize me right now. I am in the high-flying manic phase of whatever DSM-IV psychosis I've been experiencing for the last four months.
I was singing "Oh What a Beautiful Mornin'" at the top of my lungs during my drive to teach this morning. Shit-eating grin every time I looked out the window. Wiggling in my seat during office hours. And then Michael Buble's "Haven't Met You Yet" came on the radio on the drive home, and I realized that song is all about surviving miscarriage and IF and getting your forever baby and whatever Michael, it totally is okay? And you might not have realized this, but nearly 30-year-old wannabe-baby-mamas driving Volvos on the BQE are totally the intended audience for this song. And for the singing and car-dancing inspired thereby.
And I'm sure part of the reason for my case of the jollies is blue skies and sunshine and mourning doves building their nests on my window sills (until Lawyer Guy notices them and whips out the broom). But the other part is this:
Peak! On CD 19! Ovaries, I love you! Body, you're forgiven! Husband, you don't realize it yet, but your bones will be jumped tonight! Baby, I can't wait to meet you in December!
In the back of my mind, I'm adding just a little to the mental file of "Why It Would Be Less Than Ideal to Get Pregnant This Month" (otherwise known as, "How To Comfort A Menstruating Woman")
But screw all that, for now. I'm going to let Mr Buble sing us out.