First thing I want a lot of is cheeseburgers. Possibly also poutine, but definitely cheeseburgers. I want lots.Sadly, not a lot of cheeseburgers available at the hospital.
A baby sloth in pajamas. Geoff says he's more okay with the cheeseburgers. I think he is full of hardness of heart. It's a sloth! In pajamas!
This expensive cooking gadget. Because when I am very stressed it's almost exactly like when I've had too much to drink- I don't lose my judgement, I just have these arguments inside my head that go like, "I'm drunk. I know this is a dumb thing to do. But I have poor judgement right now, or rather, I can use poor judgement AS AN EXCUSE, because I do actually know that this is dumb." And right now the inside of my head is saying, "If you buy the expensive multi-use kitchen gadget you will magically feel better and have baby sloths and cheeseburgers and happiness!"
To spend the next several days obsessively watching and rewatching Brideshead Revisited and probably anything Jane Austen while eating chocolate and drinking wine.
Sadly, I think my next ACTUAL step is to get all the kids up, drink tea, feed them all the fifteen types of breakfast they prefer, and wait tensely, because we're on Day Eight of waiting. Day Eight. Doesn't seem possible.