My midwife checked me this morning and big changes have happened in just one week - I'm now 2cm dilated, the baby's head is low and it may only be a couple more days now before he arrives. I was shocked. Just last week, my uterus was posterior and it seemed like I was weeks away from delivering. But I have noticed that this little guy is moving like crazy. The Braxton Hicks last night were the strongest I'd had. He's really starting to get ready to meet us and the big big world. And I should be feeling joyous and excited but instead this amazing moment in my life is a bit tainted by something. We found out last week that our renters will not be staying till the end of October but that they are now leaving at the end of August and Tim is now scrambling to find good renters to fill their shoes. And I'm beyond stressed about it. We have a beautiful house to show but I'm worried that the competition is high in Santa Fe and landlords are competing for the few good ones that are out there. Our realtor who has been trying to sell our house has also agreed to show it to renters. That is a plus. And interestingly, he's a born again Christian and has said to Tim on a number of occasions to trust in God that everything will work out like it should. I really do want to believe that and I really do wish it were as easy as trusting but that's so hard for me to do. Don't we need to make things happen rather than standing back and trusting that the Lord will make it alright? How is this savior of ours going to find us renters for a year? But I know he's on to something because whenever I've just breathed and let go of nervous energy and angst, things do seem to work themselves out eventually. Maybe there will be a rough patch. Maybe we'll be set back financially for months to come but eventually we'll get where we need to get to, right? God, I hope so.

When I was in my 20's and early 30's, I had dozens of healthy friendships with women. Many of these girlfriends are still a part of my life and very dear to me. I wouldn't be the woman I am today without their guidance, love, and loyalty. But there was always one or two who had a quirky, narcissistic personality. It was this friend who would call me in a panic or in tears and proceed to dominate my time with her self-induced drama and like a fool, I gave her my ear, I gave her my sympathy and when the conversation was over, I felt completely used up. These women were crazy. They spent their entire lives completely consumed by their own issues - they had unhealthy relationships with their families, they had eating disorders, self-esteem problems, boy problems, school problems, and work problems. Like a idiot, I kept listening and worse yet, I kept befriending other women like them. And what I'm trying to figure out is what was going on in my own life for me to be drawn to such nuts? I think the answer is I had so much going on that when I was bombarded with their complicated stories, I was given a temporary pass from my own perplexing problems. I could focus on their doomed fate and feel lucky I wasn't them. But with age does come wisdom and I am happy to report that I stay clear of female friendships that even have a hint of drama to them. If I detect that these women have serious anger or psychological issues just brewing below the surface (tip: you can see it in their eyes), I run the other way. The old me used to agree to get a cup of coffee or go on that first date, if you will, to see if we connect. Now I pass on getting together if I sense that a particular woman has a lot of turbulence going on in her life. I can't go there anymore. I don't have the patience, the interest, nor the time. And that feels like such a weight off my shoulders. I now surround myself with bright female friends who are real, down to earth, laid back, and who are far from being drama divas. They don't psycho-babble at me and they don't eat me up alive. These friendships are balanced - there's a give and take if you will - and that makes me happy.

I think I was born with an old soul because I often connect on a deeper level with folks twice my age than I do with my own peers. My mom passed some of these geriatric genes down to me. She was a lover and an appreciator of anything that had a layer of dust on it and historical relevance including homes, antique furniture, past lives, archaological digs, ghosts - you get the point - she liked things that creaked and groaned. And on a cold winter day, I would often find her sitting in our family home's window seat wrapped in a throw knitting while re-reading one of her favorite Victorian novels like Wuthering Heights or Jane Eyre. She liked to escape the modern world, losing herself in these novels, and perhaps romanticizing about being swept away from her hum drum life in Vermont by a Mr. Darby. I think my mom would have been happier living out her life in Victorian England than in the 50's and 60's as a California girl and later as a grown woman raising kids in the 80's and 90's. As much as my mom loved to learn about the past from books, I'm more apt to have one on one conversations with the elderly. The thing is I don't see these folks as old. I see past the wrinkles and hunched over backs and find the giggling little girl or spirited boy still glowing strongly within. Most of us never stop being kids; it's just our exterior that starts breaking down. One of my favorite things to do as a young girl was to sit next to my grandfather in his winged-back chair and listen to stories of what it was like to be a kid growing up in NYC before there were cars, refrigerators, and paved streets. He'd get animated talking about hot summer days in the city chasing trucks delivering blocks of ice to people's homes and catching the ice chips as they fell off the back or playing stick ball in the dusty streets. But it's not just the stories of how different things were "back then". Some of the conversations that have moved me the most have been with much older women and how their life experiences are timeless and hence, not much different than my own. I was very close to my ex-husband's grandmother, Nan. She was probably some 50 years older than myself when I knew her and yet I felt like a giddy schoolgirl when we chatted. She shared everything from marital secrets with me that brought her to tears as well as what life was life in Austria before WWII took that all away from her and her husband. We were friends and I miss her terribly. And I have such joyous memories of my own grandmother, Gannie, taking my sister and me on nature walks and identifying every little thing we found on the ground and high up in the trees. Or swimming at the Dartmouth pool and laughing so loudly in the showers later that our voices echoed off the walls. She was spunky and full of life. I wish more people would look at our elders not as decrepit, aging people but as young people trapped inside a crumbling body. We have so much to learn from them and I can't wait to have more moments where I'm moved by my talks with these wise people.

Ah, I'm a little over 37 weeks pregnant and as much as I want this little guy to go full term, I'm over being pregnant. I'm being punched in the gut and kicked in the ribs throughout the day and night, when I eat I immediately have acid reflux, I'm a belly sleeper so trying to sleep comfortably on my sides or back is torture, my ankles swelled for two days and looked like I had cankles, the humidity sapped my energy last week and I've got the patience of a two year old - so now Dax and I have even more in common. But I keep reminding myself that if I've made it eight months, I can make it one more. And as we get closer to the finish line, I'm getting more and more curious about what our second baby boy is going to be like, look like, and act like. Will he be another blondie like Dax or will he come out with dark hair and hazel eyes like his mama? Considering that he's much more active in the womb, does this mean he's going to be more feisty and temperamental than Dax? Will he be a trouble maker or is this heightened energy going to be channeled in a positive way? We've been very blessed to have our first son be so sweet and loving. Dax gives his family and friends kisses and hugs, he loves to cuddle and out of the blue will tell us that "we all love each other". He's never bitten or scratched anyone. He's basically an atypical 2-year-old boy. And that's what I'm worried about. Will the second be more typical - i.e. more aggressive and obstinate? Only time will tell. We're committed now and he's certainly letting us know that he's here and he's nearly ready to meet us all. I think this little guy is going to have one very huge personality and a verve for life. And we're trying to prepare ourselves for the ride!

I've come to a profound realization; when those I'm close to ask me to give them "honest" advice, I need to remain neutral or completely refrain from giving it at all. It was my best friend Corinne who helped me shed light on this conundrum. My argument to her was, if those I care about are sincerely asking me what I think, don't they deserve an honest answer? "Hell no," she says. But that's what I do. I don't sugar coat, I don't do "cheery" just to make someone feel better and I certainly don't lie. The point Corinne was trying to make was that when someone says "Tell me what you really think", what I should be hearing instead is, "Please don't actually say something I'm not ready to hear." You got it, I won't. I've never been good at making "light" conversation or putting on a fake smile and saying something my heart doesn't believe. I've always just spewed forth sage advice whether I think the person on the receiving end can handle the rawness of it all or not. But boy it's gotten me in trouble and I'm tired of ending up being the bad guy because I actually spoke my mind. It's not worth it. In the end, those I love will either resent me for being too crass, get defensive over my point of view because they simply disagree or hold me responsible in some way. Tim and I have spoken at length about our differing styles - I call it like I see it and he puts a grin on and says something complimentary. After all these years living out West, he says I should at least drop the East Coast edginess and become a true Westener - which is, don't actually share what you're really thinking! I think he's right. So for all those I love out there that are reading this - if you truly want my input, you will have to really convince me you're ready to hear what I have to say. And even then, you might get a wishy-washy answer. I'm finally letting myself off the hook and it feels great!