My little sis, whom I call “kid,” is expecting her first baby. Ok, that’s the nice way of saying it. SHE would tell you that the baby’s in the oven, and the timer has done GONE-OFF. She’s due this Saturday. She was ready last month.

I’m feelin’ her pain.

There’s nothing worse than that last month of pregnancy. You’re walking like a penguin. You’re swollen. And you’d give anything to see your feet. That’s the ironic twist about pregnancy. My sister is tired of wearing those oh-so-stylish pants with an elastic band. I, on the other hand, can’t wait to throw on my comfy sweats that don’t require me to suck in my “extra curricular.” (That’s code for stretched out stomach.)

Soon, my sister will realize all of this discomfort was worth it. I can’t wait to meet my nephew, Jackson. My boys have already announced they get to “boss him around.”

On second hand, you may want to hang out in there a little longer, baby Jackson.

And if you’re wondering, those feet in the picture above belong to my sister. She showed the pic to her husband, who replied, “WHO’S ARE THOSE?”

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