What's wrong with Mommy?

As I descend through the final weeks of pregnancy, it is becoming increasingly clearer than I am becoming quite useless.

My physical state is such that putting on my own shoes has become a mini Olympic event. If I can roll over in bed from my left to right side in a single rocking motion (as opposed to several attempts leaving me winded and crampy) then I feel as though I've summited my own little Everest. Today I reached for my coffee cup way across the coffee table and managed to grab it without spilling it all over the rug and myself. These are the golden, shiny moments in my day.

My brain is still somewhat intact. I can remember things pretty well. Most things. But every once in a while I'll forget something so commonplace that it's a little scary.

I am nesting all wrong. I guess maybe it's because I've already got lots of baby things, so I'm not really sweating the details, but I get easily distracted when scouring Ebay for essentials and end up purchasing items like a futon cover. Because, you know, the baby really needs that. My friend and I went shopping the other night and I bought towels, some books for the kids and some decorative Easter egg things. I left "Babies 'R us" with a lemonade and a rasberry flavored water. (The cashier asked me if this was off someone's registry. I think she was new. We're still having a good chuckle over that one.)

I still haven't packed a bag for the hospital and I still don't know how to get to the hospital. I mean, I know where it is and I have a map, just in case, but I haven't actually been there yet. They have valet parking, so that's good. You know, in case the valet has to help deliver the baby because we got lost on the way to the hospital.

Eh. I've got new towels. Maybe we'll just do a home birth this time.

See? What did I tell you. I'm just a mess.