The FamiLee could use a prayer right now.  Oh, not for me.  Or my belly baby.  We're staying put.  Fetus Baby knows that Mama has to give a final and collect papers and answer groveling e-mails about why she has to be such a witch and not grant extensions of mercy BECAUSE TWO THINGS WAIT FOR NO ONE:  DEATH AND DILATION, SONNY!  We could use a prayer for Baby Girl, though.  She's experiencing the inevitable regression of a toddler-not-yet-a-woman precariously teetering on that precipice of Big Sisterdom.  Who wouldn't need to yank out the infantile rattles and ask to be rocked at intervals of every 2 hours every night and suddenly revert to some cryptic cavegirl code of, "Ahenna wanna flum wum wahhhh" when you and I know that girlfriend just wants another pack of fruit snacks--a request for which she is totally capable of articulating???? Poor Baby Girl.  She knows her world is about to get rocked.

We know in time, though, she'll be singin' and slingin' like a seasoned sister.

(Huge Huzzahs to my awesome neighbor mama friends who pitched in for a new Moby wrap for me and a wee one for Baby Girl).