I had traffic court for my ticket on Wednesday. I wore my pregnant-est shirt in an effort to garner as much pity and sympathy as possible, even though I went into court with the full intention of just pleading guilty anyway. Traffic court was an interesting, and thankfully very short, experience, and two thoughts come to mind when I think back to my experience:

1. Working for the court system as a clerk must be the most liberating job in the world since there is clearly no pressure to be polite or even issue actual words to your "clientele" beyond cranky, unintelligible grunts.

2. When the judge walks into the room and the crowd "all rises" as a sign of respect, it seems a little silly and finicky in a room filled with folding chairs and a decent percentage of defendants who decided to come to court wearing yesterday's dirty sweatpants. Oh, McHenry county.

Anyway, I pleaded guilty, got court supervision for 100 days, paid my $200 bucks and was back home in record time. Mostly due to speeding. Ah, but I kid. I will say that, upon turning into court, I found myself driving the wrong way on the left side of the entrance's median and had to do a quick U-turn to correct myself. And I thought to myself, "Is this the definition of ironic? Is this ten thousand spoons?"

Anyway, it's all over, thank goodness. That same morning, since I had the time off, I decided to go check out yet another day care for Baby Boy, and it was the absolute most ghetto day care I've ever seen. There were broken windows in the front of the building, for crying out loud. And it was located in an alley behind a sports bar and a hardware store. The inside was stuffed full of kids, with screaming preschoolers and infants sharing the same one room space, and the whole place was dirty and disorganized. Too bad- it was the cheapest one I've found so far. I guess you truly do get what you pay for- sigh.

I've been kind of high strung lately- my latest worries including autism, birth defects, and whether or not I've poisoned my baby due to the aspartame I've consumed in my yogurt and lemonade. I know that I need to just relax and be rational and have faith that I am growing a healthy baby- I have no reason to believe otherwise- but I also know that these fears are probably pretty typical for a first time mother-to-be. They HAVE to be. I will say that researching all these things on the internet is not the best idea for a pregnant lady in a delicate emotional state. The internet, as it turns out, is not very reassuring at all. The internet will tell you that you've unwittingly ruined your child's life and damaged their brain by eating canned soup or the aforementioned yogurt or by drinking tap water or - of course- by worrying too much. Oh, internet. I love you, I hate you. I love to hate you.

I just want this kid to be healthy and happy- not at all an atypical wish. I want him to have a good childhood and to grow into a well-adjusted, intelligent, and decent man. I want so much for him, and oh so badly. And I want to be free from my irrational worries so that, when little man does come out into the world, I can do my best to give him everything he needs.