My husband and I sat at the empty dining-room table (um. Empty except for all the stuff my kids didn’t pick up), discussing Thanksgiving plans over a cobbled-together lunch. Him: leftover Mexican. Me: a bunch of stuff dumped in a bowl with tortilla chips. We were talking about what he hoped would happen; he turned to me.

“What about you?”

Well. There it was. I knew it would sound a little martyrish. But, hey. I’m a mother of four kids off school. I’m inviting relatives.  My work-from-home schedule had already been put through the blender with the lid off. (I mean, that’s having kids in general, right? Like my “birth plan”. Please write down what you hope will happen so that, if the other 246 factors align themselves, we can help you have the birth you want.)