Today I took my first solo road trip in almost a month. Now, my definition of "road trip," at least today, is a ride down to Chili's to pick up the take-out we ordered for dinner. Yup, another rockin' Friday night at our house. But, miraculously, Jane was asleep and Greg was busy so I volunteered to go pick up the food. This is the first time I've driven in almost a month, and certainly the first time I've been alone in a car since the morning of July 23. I realized that I was wearing the same shorts I was wearing the day she was born - the ones I had on only from the time I came home from the hospital to change after the non-stress test to the time I changed out of them, a couple of hours later, after I returned to the hospital to deliver. They are a lot looser now (thank God), but it's also the first time I've put them on since that day. When I plugged in my iPod, I noticed that it was on the song that I was listening to when the doctor called me to say, hey, yeah, go back to the hospital, you're getting induced (I was listening to "Motorcycle Drive-By" by Third Eye Blind, in case you were wondering). It was awesome taking that small road trip by myself today. I felt like I was getting away with something. But at the same time, it felt like something was missing. I wonder what it was?
PS Don't be jealous of how hottt I look in this pic.