I feel lucky.

Last night's Bradley class (week 10 of 12) was "labor rehearsal." For an hour, our instructor called out "contractions starting!" every two minutes and all 10 ladies tried different positions as our husbands practiced their coaching. It seems sort of silly until you try it, and your husband tells you something about his day during the first fake-contraction, and you realize that it's important to practice so that he doesn't try that during real labor. By the second or third fake-contraction, Ben was a pro.

Now, let me say this. I've always felt like Ben's freaking awesome. But last night, when he was supposed to be giving me relaxing things to think about, he put it all on the table. I just don't know how all of those wonderful images are at the front of his brain- the clouds climbing over mountaintops in Peru, the lapping waves at sunrise in Mexico, the quiet of the desert in Morocco, the darkness of a campsite right on Lake Michigan. They just kept coming. He's good at this. And since I wasn't really in labor, I got to just enjoy it and soak it in, as he whispered the sweetest things on earth and massaged my back.

I'm very, very lucky. Now let's just hope he's not on a plane home from Vegas when this all goes down for real.

Last night when we got home from class Molly had peed on the bed. She hasn't done that in years. So we threw the bedding in the washer and had a camp-out on the living room floor. We both overslept and missed our workouts, but I managed to fit a 1 mile run in. 1 mile. It was a decision forced by time but it seems pretty silly. Either way, every little bit counts.