Yesterday was a tiny glimpse into the world I will most likely occupy in about seven months. That's right--I spent the day with L. and her six-week-old peanut.

I can sum it up in one word: Exhausting.

Due to a scheduling snafu, L. had a baby doc appointment at 11AM, and then a mama doc appointment at 5PM on the same day. Same location. She has no car, so she asked me to drive them. "We'll make a day out of it--go to lunch, and maybe to the art supply store, and then we can come back to my place and work on crafty stuff!" Sounds like fun, right?

It might have been, but no. The baby doc was way overbooked and if we'd stayed, our wait would have been about 2-3 hours. We both wondered aloud, why make an appointment, if you're going to be forced to wait that long? We left. L. was pissed and disappointed.

We went to lunch. We ordered, sat down with our lovely lunch, and then the peanut started crying. She took him into the bathroom, changed the diaper, brought him back, and still he cried. I could tell that she was getting worried that her baby was disrupting others' lunch. I tried my best to be helpful but unconcerned about the others. But L. couldn't do it--she had her lunch packed up and we left, crying babe in tow.

Instead of going anywhere, we were all so drained from the first part of our trip we just went back to L.'s place. Lounged and had tea. Powered up for the evening appointment. It was pretty nice...but...

I feel uncharitable saying this, but frankly, I got kind of tired of hearing L.'s near-constant cooing and baby talk. It just wore me out! I know that in some ways I suppose I'll understand what it's all about when my kid comes, and I'll probably look back on this entry and say, "Oh what a foolish girl!" But I dunno. We'll see what happens.

So a little while later we stuck the kid in his car seat (always guaranteed to get him angry and make him cry), bundled ourselves back up and hauled ourselves to the second appointment. At least that one went okay. Then, it was the long drive back to L.'s place and then the long drive back to mine.

By the time I walked in the door of my house, it was almost seven o'clock. I was tired, cranky, and hungry. Poor C. had to deal with my tired, cranky, hungry self, but he did well. Sadly, the only activity with him I could muster post-dinner was a little cuddling and TV, and then I crashed. It was 8:30.

Am I cut out for this?