So I alluded to the fact that work is hell lately, and the past three days I've worked 31 hours, which is particularly impressive once you know that on the second day, I only worked six.

And early Saturday I was coming home from a 14-hour day at 1:00 in the morning, blaring the Dead Kennedys and cursing the fact I had to be up at 7 that morning to take a bunch of the kids from the Noho store to a crew rally, when I felt the baby move.

Not only that, but I also realized that the “gastrointestinal distress” I'd felt while in the car with Brian the day before was actually the baby moving.

I talked to Katie about this whole baby-moving thing earlier this week.

“Have you felt the baby move yet?” she asked.

“Maybe, but I think it's just gas,” I told her.

“Could be. Every time I have a gas pain I think it's a baby kicking,” she said.

(Katie's youngest baby graduates high school next week.)

I'd been pretty ambivalent about feeling this new life thing moving inside of me. I mean, I'm a pretty autonomous person. But Julie's right; it's pretty cool.

At least for now, while I can feel it while still breathing and without needing to pee.