Time, Time, See What's Become of Me

So I turned 36 over the weekend. This is, obviously, the age I will be when the Bean is born (heh, heh...Bean, born...). That means I will be forty when he is four, 54 when he graduates from high school in 2024 (unless of course he's a lil' genius and graduates earlier). When he is 30 I'll be 66. Crap, I'm getting depressed now...
Seriously though, I'm about the same age my Dad was when he brought me home. I want to be there for every important event between now and then, and beyond if possible. Of course if that has a snowball's chance in hell of happening, I need to get into better shape. I went downtown on Saturday to watch the Cooper River Bridge Run, and to take pictures. About halfway through the event it occurred to me that I ought to have at least walked in the thing (no danger of running the 10K at this point. So I made a pact with myself (is that even possible?) to get into shape and walk the bridge next year, hopefully with the Bean in one of those baby backpack thingies. I'll need to get started now, because lordy am I out of shape. I have definitely put on a few sympathy pounds during the pregnancy. Add that to what were already a few too many pounds on my frame, and it's high time to do something.
We took a tour of Summerville Medical Center this week, and I believe that's where Margaret wants to have the Bean. It was a pretty nice place, a bit further out, but worth the drive. The Bean seems to be spreading out while he is still small enough to do so. I swear tonight he was lounging sideways in Margaret's tummy. He's kicking the tar out of her too. At least he's active.