I think what's bugging me most about this whole no-baby-yet thing is the aspect of the missed deadline.

After ten years as a print journalist, the idea of missing a deadline is anathema. And I was Type A-ish to begin with -- yes, I was the girl in college who turned her thesis in early. (Sick, I know, but I didn't have much of a social life).

So this late thing is just not working for me. At all. Even though I'm only three days past my official due date, and even though I know that most first babies tend to be late. I was reminded of that fact just this morning, walking Wendell. "Don't worry!" one of my neighbors called as I waddled on by. "Most first babies are late!"

Pause.

"Of course, my wife was two weeks early."

Thanks for sharing.

Meanwhile, one of the Very Pregnant Posse -- the one who wasn't actually due for another two weeks, the one who was supposed to be having a scheduled C section next week because her baby is breech -- went into labor last night after our long walk/Mexican food lunch and had her baby boy this morning. I'm thrilled for her. Thrilled, and jealous.

The good news is, the Bun is fine, and still enjoying plenty of room and lots of vigorous activity. And the nice nurse noticed something while I was hooked up to the belts this morning. "Well, look at that!" she said. "You're having a contraction!"

I wanted to reply, a la Nicolas Cage in "Honeymoon in Vegas," upon learning that there is something that beats four of a kind, "I KNOW that now!"

Jen