It’s 7p.m. and all is quiet. Minus John. This is my idea of one wild and crazy Saturday night — at home, blogging and doing laundry AND listening to the John Denver station on Pandora.

Before you laugh, which it’s okay — laugh. It’s dorky and implies all sorts of free love mountain air — but damn if it isn’t the best station I’ve found on Pandora. It’s full of my other loves, like Elton John and James Taylor and Kenny Loggins.

I mean, right now, does it get any better than hearing, Danny’s Song? I’m def preg, because this shit just makes me want to cry, Pisces Virgo rising is a very good sign, strong and kind and the little boy is mine. Now I see a family where there once was none now we’ve just begun, yeah, we’re going to fly to the sun.

If that just doesn’t get me. Ah. Tell me everything is gonna be alright. That’s right, you tell us, James.

I also have the space heater blasting. Which is all sorts of wonderful. I just can’t get warm to save my life. It’s part of what I deem as: Preg Probs.

Oh, and I still have the damn scale. No rush action here. We wouldn’t want that now, would we?

The BF agreed it can stay, only if I remember to put it away after I use it. I guess maybe he’s hoping I’ll put it away and then never take it out again? I thought that was asking a bit much, considering my shrinking brain, but I’ve been pretty good about it.

Perhaps I’ll get to tossing that damn thing in another month or two. Or never. That could be a possibility, too.

So speaking of The BF, he’s out for the evening. Camping. He wanted me to come and join in the fun and I just laughed. Fun?

Let’s see. My idea of fun right now is not camping in freezing temperatures where there are no bathrooms and it’s a given I’ll have to pee at least twice during the middle of the night and food! I can’t go anywhere that I’m not sure about the food. It’s a delicate situation with food right now. I never know what I’m going to want to eat or not want to eat and it can change in an instant.

I gotta say … this house to my lonesome all night … I almost don’t know what to do with myself! Oh the crazy possibilities! Like organizing shit and getting shit in order and reading up about what to do as to not have an episiotomy — fear not, I’m sparing you those deets. For now.

But none of those things are going to happen, because all I really want to do is grab a blanket, the animals and plop my expanding ass down on the couch. It sounds downright scandalous to me. Really, how many more of these nights am I ever going to have? Ever, People.

I don’t think even one. Sure, there will come some time where there is some night that this little Babe is not around for some reason or another and I can pretty much guarantee that I will not be indulging in thoughts of worry free things like, mmm should I watch Orange Is The New Black or a documentary?

Instead I have a strong feeling it will be things more along the lines of, shit is my baby alive?! Do I suck at this mom shit or what?! Am I a bad parent?

I gotta say, it kinda depresses the hell out of me. Knowing there will always be this person now that will occupy my heart and mind and thoughts in such a troublesome way — only because I love them so damn much.

Really what I’ll be doing tonight is trying to make peace with impending babyhood. With my entire world changing forevermore.

And these quiet nights are exactly what I need. Along with more yoga and meditation and calm. I am working damn hard on being calm. Mainly because I was reading one of my Yoga pregnancy books and it said that if you can transform yourself through meditation and working through your shit and being calm, you transform your baby and their karma.

Nothing like karma to motivate me.