…name him Milo.

Labor started at the Citywide Garage Sale with Pie and her dad. We calmly timed contractions and decided that if my water broke, we’d have some lovely embroidered vintage tea towels to clean up. After that we went to the Elks Lodge (we were in the neighborhood, and being an Elk, Mr. S wanted to see Austin BPOE 201).

They brought me home, and things were clearly under way by 3:30 or so. We sent Morgan and Lu to Pie’s birthday party, and called our fantastic doula Shelley again. She said “Things are progressing fast. I am not saying that baby is going to be born on Mopac, but if you go to the hospital now, you know for sure it won’t.” So we did.

We got to the hospital at 5:45. Milo was born at 7:45. He weighs 8 pounds, 5 ounces. He has a head of black hair. He is perfect in every way. My mood is vastly improved.

I have learned a lot in the last couple of weeks. I won’t detail all the physical aspects of being this pregnant, but I have made some anthropological/cultural/psychological observations. When you are this pregnant:

People smile at you a lot, especially when you are exercising. I like to think it’s the community project you are working on: the whole continuation of the human race thing. Or that you are shaped so funny. Either way, it’s encouraging.

It’s like you have swallowed a hand grenade. Any sudden shifting in your seat, gasps for breath, pauses can cause great alarm in people near you. For the record, I think I am not “gonna blow.”

You get lots of strange, unsolicited advice. In counseling me about how to get the baby out, people have told me things about their sex lives and bowel movements that maybe their doctors don’t know. This enthusiastic candor has been amusing, if not entirely helpful (although if ANY of suggested stuff ends up working, I will publish a detailed list of thank-yous).

You are highly entertaining. It turns out being in a really foul mood makes people laugh. Enjoy it now, people. Because when this kid comes out, I am going to be writing such sweet, lovey-dovey stuff about it (provided I can forgive it), your teeth will hurt. All this sarcastic spew will only last till Wednesday, at which time you can go back to reading Perez Hilton.

You are suddenly popular. The outpouring of love, support, encouragement and sheer interest has made this interminable waiting more fun.

On a walk this morning, I passed Lu’s school just in time to see her returning from Spanish class. She just waved and yelled “Hi, Mom. Hi, Clifford” then went into her portable with little fanfare. The fact that she’s more interested in returning to class than the thrilling disruption of her mother must be a good sign.

Her favorite part of kindergarten so far is eating in the cafeteria. She reports with delight all the brown foods she chooses. The schoolwork has left her nonplussed (cutting? the letter “m”?), but we are hoping that once Ms. P., her teacher, gets to know them all better, they will be grouped and challenged according to ability level.

We love Ms. P., who is experienced and very cool — she seems like the kind of person who will appreciate Lu. At back-to-school night, we explained that Lu likes to know where the line is and have her toes firmly on it. Ms. P. said, “Yes, I have noticed that, but she’s a lot of fun.” The first rule of Ms. P’s class is “Don’t do anything that’s going to cause a problem for you or anybody else.” Lucy made it seven whole days without breaking this rule. She came home yesterday with her behavior rated yellow, as opposed to green, which is good, or dreaded red, which goes on your permanent record or something.

She comes home pretty grouchy, tired and hungry every day. I think we underestimated what a big change this would be for her. It’s probably good that Lemon has waited to give her this small window to adjust. Incidentally, Lucy has completely given up asking when Lemon is coming.

This morning at the doctor’s office, Jason said, “You’re like a wild animal. And I’m scared of you.” We’re not even talking about labor here — this is just a routine 40 WEEK AND 4 DAY doctor visit.

So, here’s what we’re up to here on Animal Planet:

I am 3 centimeters. This may or may not be true since I threatened to punch Dr. P. in the face if I was still 2.5. Either way, I’m officially 3 (and 80% effaced).

Dr. P. stripped my membranes. That is way too much information, but it’s just Animal Planet, right? If you’re curious what this unpleasantness is all about, Wiki it (no, I won’t even link to it).

Lemon’s cool. Dr. P. did some checking of vitals, amniotic fluid, etc. and there’s no medical reason to make Lemon come out yet. Which is good. During the sonogram, I asked if he could see a sound system or a ping pong table in there and he said, “No. Just an iMac.”

We have an induction scheduled for next Wednesday. While Lemon is cool now, babies aren’t really meant to stay in there past 41 weeks or so. Basically Lemon has one week before being forcibly evicted. Upside of this is a pretty cool birthday (9/9/9). However, Lemon: any day between now and then would be a better birthday, I think. Otherwise I might have to eat your father.

Actually, this isn’t so much an FAQ, because people have kindly stopped asking me questions. In fact, two different people who saw me dropping Lu off at kindergarten this morning simply said, “Uh oh.”

Yes, uh oh. I have done two acupuncture treatments, eaten red Thai curry, walked and walked and walked on my twisted ankle, done various other ignoble things to help Lemon into this world.

I have now been pregnant for 17 days longer than I was with Lu. This is a colossal lesson in patience for me.