Can someone please explain to me why The King is too embarrassed to buy me panty liners at the grocery store, but isn’t too embarrassed to ask for the brand of razors I like? Which are kept behind the counter. You know, “the kind that are pink. And smell like lavender.”

I don’t get it.

The King is going out of the Country tonight. He’s only going to up to Canada. But I like saying “out of the Country”. It sounds very Jason Bourne, don’t you think?

Yes, my husband is leaving the County when I’m ten days away from my due date. And I’m fine with it. In fact, I’m looking forward to a night at home with my best friend, May.

Why is The King leaving me? His best friend, who he’s known for more than 20 years, is getting married. And tonight is the Bachelor party. In Canada. Because that’s where they always go to get into a little trouble. The King could have missed this night on the town. But not really, because he’s the Best Man.

The actual wedding isn’t until April 27th. Our baby will definitely be here by then, so there’s no worry about that. But the wedding is in Arizona. As in, no where near where we live. Meaning The King will be leaving me and the new baby. (Because I’m pretty confident that I don’t want to be flying with our newborn son that soon.). Again, The King can’t really miss this since he’s the Best Man. And really, we don’t want him to miss it. He’s going to just fly out for the day. Right now I’m confident that I’ll be fine alone for that short of time. I might not be feeling so confident once I realize how much work having a newborn baby is. But for now, I’m fine with it. I’m even a little bummed that I’ll be missing this wedding. I love weddings.

Monday of this week The King asked me how I thought I’d be feeling by Friday. You know, just to see if he should stay home from Canada tonight. I was like, “yeah, I don’t know how I’ll be feeling. At this point it’s just day to day!” I think he wanted me to be a little more specific. I just can’t be. Heck, I don’t know how I’ll be feeling tonight.

Yes I do. I’m going to be living it up. Sitting on the couch with May, eating pizza, drinking soda and watching seasons 1 and 2 of “Arrested Development”. (Can you believe that May hasn’t seen it yet?) She’s leaving her daughter home with Dad, and heading downtown to make sure that if I do go into labor, I have a ride the hospital. (Oh, and don’t worry, The King is taking his own car tonight so that if I do go into labor, he can drive really fast and get here in time.)

The crib arrived this week. The King put it together last night (I don’t even want to talk about the fact that it took him three hours and countless swear words to get it to this point. And he still needs replacement hardware from the company). I may be able to talk May into helping me move some furniture around tonight (you know, before our fabulous evening begins) and getting the crib all set up. The crib isn’t as big as I had imagined it would be. It is going to fit quite nicely in our bedroom. We will probably even be able to fit some of the drawers we currently have in the front room corner next to the crib. I’m feeling a little more prepared.

Last night The King stood over the crib before we got into bed and said that’s what it’s going to be like when the boy’s here and we get to put him to bed at night. He told me he’s nesting.

Good. One of us should be.

Since about the fifth month of this pregnancy, I’ve had the real fear of having a huge kid. Not because I seem to be carrying a large baby. It’s just that I have the genes for it.

Now, I’m not a large person. I would consider myself to be “average-sized”. The King, now he’s skinny. Very tall and very skinny. Just like I like. His entire family is small. So, we seem to be safe on that side.

But let’s talk about my side of the family. How do I put this? Um…they are not so small. My Mom and I are the only ones that are just normal. My little sister? Yeah, she’s big. My two brothers? Yep-they’re big. My Dad? Huge. I don’t know how I’m the only one that got my Mom’s genes, but I’m pretty happy about it.

My fear isn’t so much that I’ll be pushing out a 10 pound baby Amalah style. It’s more that in ten years The King and I are going to be this weird looking couple with an above average sized kid. Can you just picture the two of us with a ten year old that’s bigger than the both of us?

I mean, look at the size of my little brother compared to me? (I must add that my Mom is always telling me I should call him my “younger” brother and not my “little” brother). Although he is five years younger than me, he’s about 6 times bigger. And he just keeps growing.

I’ve told my Mom a few times that I’m afraid of having a kid the size of one my siblings. She just laughs it off. This is not the response I need. I need her to assure me that The King and I will only make cute little petite children that look extra adorable in little Baby Gap outfits. And don’t play sports. (I don’t even need the visual of The King and I at some football game watching our huge kid play, where we don’t understand any of the rules and would just rather be at home making artsy things and watching “Law & Order” on TV).

But when I’ve mentioned this to my Mom, she just laughs.

I think it’s because she went through the same thing. She’s my size and is stuck with these giant sized kids.

I think she secretly likes that I’m afriad.

Isabel: Where is my Hostess Fruit Pie? It’s not in the cupboard.

The King: Yes it is. I just saw it there yesterday.

Isabel: No it isn’t. I looked this morning and again tonight. It’s not there.

The King: Yes it is. Unless you ate it and forgot. Or maybe Preston ate it. You’d better look again.

Just to appease him, I look in the cupboard, again. I don’t see the fruit pie.

Isabel: It’s not there. I told you!

The King: Yes it is. LOOK AGAIN!

I look in the cupboard. But this time I look behind the bottle of balsamic vinegar. And there sits my fruit pie.

The King: I don’t hear anything over there. You must have found it behind something. Am I right?

Isabel: (Sheepishly) Yes, it was behind the vinegar. Just like you said.

The King walks into the kitchen.

The King: You are a nitwhit. And a bad searcher.

Isabel: A bad “searcher”?

The King: You would be so worthless in a Treasure Hunt. You would just look around and say, “no treasure here” and we would never find the gold.

Isabel: Right, that’s one of my weaknesses. I’m a bad searcher.

Friday night after work The King and I went to see Rhett Miller, again. (Yes, I’m a stalker.) He was doing an appearance at a local record store, so we caught a bus and went to see him.

Unfortunately we were a little late and missed a few songs. But we were still able to get a good spot. I swear I was right in his line of vision and we made eye contact the entire time. Yes, he was singing to only me.

There was a signing afterwards, and since I’m relatively new to stalking, I wasn’t prepared for this. I hadn’t brought a camera (doh!), or a CD for him to sign (double doh!). The King went and bought a second copy of Rhett’s latest CD, while I waited in line.

When The King got back in line with me, I looked at him with scared eyes and said, “I’m not prepared for this. I have no idea what to say to him!” The King calmly said, “Let me do the talking, baby!”. Phew.

We got up to see Rhett and he introduced himself and shook my hand. I panicked and showed him my belly (hey, I should get privileges for having this belly, right?). Then The King did the best.thing.ever and told him how we’re having a hard time choosing a name for the baby. Yes, he asked Rhett Miller for baby name suggestions. It was awesome. That’s when Rhett proceeded to tell us about how he and his wife came up with the name for their little boy, blah, blah. And how they had originally wanted to name him Cash, after Johnny Cash. But he just couldn’t get over the “money issues” that have to do with the name Cash. Blah, blah, we went on to talk about how his wife is 6 months pregnant again (I knew this, you know, since I’m a stalker). He signed the CD to me and even put “heart, Rhett”, because he loves me at this point in our relationship.

As we walked out of the store I told The King that I already knew that story about him originally wanting to name his son Cash, but that I had decided it was probably better to not let him know that I knew.

The King turned to me and said, “That was probably a wise choice. You already looked like a stalker!”.

I’m a sad, sad person.

(But also a very happy person, because this was like the best weekend ever at our house with all the concerts and hanging out together and doing the first load of laundry with little baby socks in it. Nothing like folding your husbands socks and your son’s socks.)

Remember how last night The King and I went to see Rhett Miller for my Valentine’s gift? No need to wonder, because Rhett rocked the house. We had a reserved table and Seattle has a new “no smoking” law, so it was the perfect night for the pregnant ladies. The King found it extra funny to see so many pregnant ladies out to a bar on a Thursday night. At last count, he had seen 7 of us. I guess that is a pretty big number. (Pun intended-shut up, I’m tired).

We didn’t get home until after midnight. Which means I have nothing to post about today. Why? Because I’m tired. And because I get to do it all over again tonight and tomorrow. Yes, we’re seeing Rhett again tonight. And Belle & Sebastian tomorrow night.

In lieu of anything clever, I will post belly pictures. Because honestly, I haven’t for a very long time . This has nothing to do with the fact that the camera has been in the car for weeks and weeks and I was too lazy to go down to the parking garage to get it. Nope, nothing to do with that.

Without further adieu, here I am in all my glory this morning. After about 2.3 hours of sleep. Which I can blame all on Rhett. But not in the way I would hope. I am currently rocking the 37.5 week pregnant look. Which isn’t such a good look these days.

And because I finally had my hands on the camera, here is the updated picture of the corner of the front room that we’re calling “The Baby’s Room”. It might be better to see the “before” shot to fully appreciate the goodness that has taken over our lives.