I don't know the gender of the little one in my belly yet. . . and it's kind of driving me nuts. There is so much I want to do to get ready, and I can't do a darn thing. . . It's a little stupid because, realistically, I don't have a single free second to do any of said getting ready.
Ragtime is taking up every available minute, and a few of those that aren't so available, to even BEGIN to stay on top of things. We open in 17 days, and we haven't totally finished blocking. I'm pretty freaked out. I'm sure it will be yet another of those magical theatre moments where everything comes together in the end. . . but still. So, really, I should ignore the growing child and his/her future bedroom for a few weeks. I should just put it out of my head until I actually have some time to deal with it. . . We'll see how I do with that.
Anyone care to venture a guess on the sex in the mean time?
Printable Summer Color-in Postcards
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