Baby blues...

My little sister, Kate, is very pregnant. She and her husband James are due to expect their first-born, a boy, almost any day now. She's technically due June 6, that's right 6/6/06, and no, he will not be the anti-Christ, but the baby is getting so big, so fast, that as soon as she starts to dialate, they will induce her. Mike and I leave for Belize for seven weeks on June 1. I planned, back in March, to go to Indiana where my parents, next oldest sister, Heather, and Kate and James live, in the hopes that maybe the baby would be here. The stork has not arrived. I've never seen Kate look so beautiful or James so enthused and supportive. I love pregnant women, everything about them; their huge bellies, the glow that people always talk about, the way they eat everything in sight. I just want to hug every pregnant woman I see and rub their bellies. I realize that this is a societal faux pa, but it takes everything in me to resist such strong urges. Fortunately for me, Kate is very patient with me. She lets me pat the belly, talk to my nephew, reminding him that I am Auntie Meg, the best autie in the whole world (no offence Mandy, Heather, and Kendra). I'm so sad that I will miss this event. I guess this is what happens when we grow up. It seems that we encounter more pressing, important, lifechanging events, and, at least with the McGrail clan, the farther we live from each other geographically, and thus the less likely we are to share these things in person. Makes me want to live in a hippie commune with every significant person in my life, so I don't have to miss out on anything. Anyone willing to join me? Maybe I don't like growing up nearly as much as I thought I did...