M. took a bit of a tumble the other night. We were talking with the neighbors while our kids chased each other around and heard a solid smack, followed by screaming. M. caught her toes in the sidewalk as she was running and ended up face-down on the sidewalk. Not only did she skin her knees, but also her forehead hit the ground, leaving a nice, bloody welt. Just in time for her class’ circus at school on Friday. I’m sure we’ll be getting some interesting looks from the other parents.

We are in full baby preparation mode, as S. moves into the Miserable 24 Hours A Day stage of pregnancy. The baby carseat is back in the van. S.’s hospital bag is packed. I’m making sure the dust is blown off of the camcorder and it’s fully charged.

She has five shifts left at work, and we’re both hopeful that all those hours on her feet don’t jumpstart the process. This Friday could be especially interesting, as she works the overnight shift and I’ll be away covering a football game. Fortunately, we’ll have sitters here with the girls. And I got shifted from being the main reporter for the game to assisting the main guy, so if I do get a call, I can sneak away without depriving the players their due in the morning paper.

Officially, we have two weeks left. While S. has been dealing with the discomfort of being nine months pregnant, I’ve been dealing with the intellectual aspect of bringing a new baby home.* The realization that all the routines we have going will all go to hell for awhile. That the big sisters will probably regress a bit as little sister rocks their worlds. I’m sure we’ll figure it all out, and faster than we did the last two times. It’s another moment when I’m thankful for the freedom we both have to be home and spend quality time with the entire family. I’m not sure how my brothers in fatherhood out there have managed to go back to work after a couple days or weeks and function normally when you’re getting up every few hours to feed the baby.

A couple quick funny kid sayings. Yesterday, C. kept walking around saying “Oh brother!” Not sure why, but I’m assuming she learned it on Noggin. Also, after drawing a picture, she said, matter of factly, “I’m a good artist.” “Compared to whom?” I wanted to ask. She did bring home a nice picture from school Monday. To me, it looks like a random blob of blue finger paint. To her, it’s a momma dragon and a baby dragon.

And I’m pleased the word booty continues to get good use in this house. Each time C. sits on S., baby sister starts kicking away. Today, C. laughed and said, “Baby Sister kick me in mah booty!”

M. is in a phase of talking nonsense. It maddens me when she starts speaking in tongues, but S. insists that is normal for this age. Oh, and we’ve banned a TV show because of its effects on her language. We never liked Max &amp; Ruby, but had been letting the girls watch it more lately because it was something they hadn’t already seen 1000 times and was on right around the time we were fixing dinner, so was a good way to keep them occupied for 22 minutes. However, M. started talking like Max. “Me want orange juice. Me want to go outside.” After about two weeks we reached the point where we were ready to beat her each time she used the “Me want…” phrase. So Max &amp; Ruby has been banned. Fuck you too, Jar Jar Binks. No <a href=”http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Star_Wars_Episode_I:_The_Phantom_Menace”>Phantom Menace</a> in this house.

Not that S. hasn’t, as well. But she’s obviously more concerned with what’s going on in her belly.