Today seems to be the day

Heading off to the hospital now...

Bean is 4

He's four, and going to be a big brother any day now. It kind of takes my breath away. Instead of a letter, here are his responses to an impromptu interview done on his birthday. *** Favorite color: purple, pink, blue, red Favorite candy: chocolate, all of the candies at the candy store downtown. Favorite game: Scrabble, my circuit board. Favorite food: Macaroni with nothing else (what he means by this is "no veggies". Favorite fruit: mango Favorite piece of clothing: My “I’m with the band” shirt. My Hawaiian shirts. My pink striped shirt. Favorite music: jazz Favorite time of day: morning Favorite time of year: Summertime—because I get to go out with nothing on. Favorite meal: breakfast and dinner Favorite kind of chip: potato chips Favorite animal: platypus Stuff you don’t like: I like everything. Except I don’t like broccoli and I don’t like tomatoes Some letters you know how to write: I A B E W R O V U Y C T L M What’s your brother going to be like? I don’t know Mommy. I haven’t seen him yet.

*** 4 Year old thoughts:

“Every day people ride a rocket up to the sun to check it out. They have a hose that goes way, way, way inside the earth. It pumps up liquid that turns into fire to start the sun if it needs starting.”

“Thunder foxes come when it is night time and it is thundering and lightening. They are so big they can pull Daddy into the water and blow a house down, but they only blow houses down where nobody lives.”

***

He draws diggers and cranes and people with ten fingers and suns with green dots in the middle because “that’s how it looks and when you look at the sun. When you see the green dot you have to look away.”

*** For his birthday he requested pancakes for breakfast; having Daddy help him build stuff on his circuit board; a camera (he begged for that one for months!); 'fancy' drinks with dinner; and a shark cake. Bonus: his aunt & uncle sent him a remote control car. Yeah. The boy is spoiled. But it's his last birthday as our only. And he was giddy and full of wonder and delight all day.

Still pregnant & bumbling

In case you were wondering. Feeling the soporific effects of sunshine. Also feeling rather hippo-ish and bumbling. I napped for about 3 straight hours this morning after a ridiculous night of waking up a zillion times. Woke up feeling entirely out of it and have been sort of stumbling around the house ever since.

I am trying to get some code sorted out. I moved servers over the weekend, and now photos won't post...yet. When everything's in order again, I have so many yummy photos of Bean at his birthday to share.

38 weeks & babbling

So you guessed anywhere from next Wednesday to the following Friday, huh? I'm totally for the 20th. I also kind of hate anyone who even dared mention a date beyond the 25th, because seriously, if I have to wait until the 27th or 28th, I will gradually begin banging my head on the wall and forget my name. I am so ready. Bags packed. House cleaned. Baby clothes washed. Oh, and have I mentioned? Really ready to have my body belong to just me again.

Tonight it dawned on me that holy shit, there's an entire body in my belly. A baby. Okay, 'dawned on me' might be a titch dramatic. But really, something about being pregnant has never quite fully saturated my brain. It is such a bizarre state of being.

Some people take to it, I imagine, like platypuses to water. Or whatever. But I just don't.

There's a bit of that surreal-ness that has lingered too in becoming somebody's mama. It's not an identity that I've just slipped into. I still never have the coolest snacks at the playground, or know what to say to Bean's teachers when I pick him up at preschool. I love him beyond the stars and moon, of course. I love hanging out with him, listening to the way he puts ideas together, to the way he giggles. I love everything about having this kid in my life--and can imagine how amazed and thrilled I will be to get to know this second little person who has so determinedly picked me, now. But still. Sometimes it just feels so utterly weird that he's totally dependent on me. That he's my kid. Mine.

Sometimes when this feeling strikes it's like I'm watching myself from somewhere else.

Me. 38 weeks pregnant. Waiting.

***

On a completely unrelated topic I've begun to notice that I expend a lot of useless energy doing things twice--rather than just following through on the first go round. I take the laundry out of the dryer and leave it sitting on the couch instead of folding it right then and there. I bring in the to-go cup from the car, but skip putting it in the dish washer. Little stuff. But then later I'm playing catch up, putting stuff away where it should be. Do you ever find yourself doing this? It's some sort of weird head game I play with myself. But it's got to change.

There is no way I'm going to survive having two if I don't become more efficient.

So. What I want to know from you is: how are you efficient? What are your top 2-3 time and effort saving daily tactics? How do you get your life done without feeling like your life is doing you? And especially, how do you do this with more than one kid?

Possibly pregnant forever.

I am feeling like I might never go into labor. The baby's head is lodged in my pelvis. Sleep is a joke. Time for some entertainment: When do you think the babe will arrive? Day? Time? Weight? Length?

He's due the 25th. Closest one to guess will get a pretty postcard in the mail when I've recovered. Ha! That is assuming I will EVER give birth. *Grumbles to self.*

Advice, please

Birthday party goodie bags. Yea or nay? Bean is turning 4, and aside from the fact that I am utterly dumbfounded by this fact, we have actually pulled off inviting a few friends to come play with him at our local lake aquarium for an afternoon. On Valentines day, because his real birthday is on Monday.

So anyway, we invited 5 friends and all five have said they're coming, but they've also not formally called and RSVPd. Additionally several have bigger or littler siblings who may or may not be coming. If it weren't for the siblings and the iffy RSVPs I'd be okay with doing goodie bags... but with the current situation I'm not sure what to do.

I miss the days of good old fashioned parties where kids came, played, at cake, and the birthday boy opened presents, said thank you, and everyone went home. Can I re-institute this, or would that be completely uncool.

I so need your help, Internets.

Unscheduled time

In the back yard animal tracks zig-zag the snow like hieroglyphs spelling secret messages of those that came before. The air is bitter cold. The windchill much below zero. But the light is perfect and golden against the snow; the shadows purple and long, making zebra stripes of light and dark at the edge of the woods. The light makes all the difference. Even from indoors, the light makes things golden and dappled and suffuse with goodness. On the picture windowsill indoors I'm keeping orchids. On the counter in the kitchen cyclamen. They glow. Hot pinks, decadent and delicate. They make me smile.

All week things have been making me smile. Making a mobile for above the baby's bed; walnuts and honey on toast; a new notebook for February; bringing a carrot cupcake to Bean when I pick him up from school; actually finishing a book.

Like unpacking summer clothes, I've been unpacking myself from the strange cramped quarters of stress that had taken over my days. I have a sense of humor, patience, and the ability to remember things. All this is remarkable, really, since before this week I felt like a deranged robot, going through the motions of every day, always on the verge of tears, exhausted beyond the point of... anything.

For the first time in years, I'm kind of in the mood for Valentines day. Maybe I'm just looking for a reason to celebrate.

Yippee

Done with work. Done. Soo happy.

Last night, beautiful dark snow squalls. Leaving work, it looked like a rainbow rinsed of color in the sky above the door. An arch of gray and white, the first fat flakes hitting my tear stained cheeks.

This morning, blue skies, blue jays plump against the cold in the lilac tree by the feeder, golden light on the bar branches.

Eating Irish oatmeal, cream and strawberries & making lists in this notebook.

Numbers

Yesterday was my birthday. I am 31. This terrifies me somewhat. Friday is the end of my work week--and the beginning of my leave. This excites me. Next Tuesday I'll be 37 weeks. Full term. Not sure what to think about this. I am on auto-pilot until then. Wishing I could just hit fast forward. Photo by M. Brott.

This love

Bean is sick. Since starting preschool it's been a nonstop barrage of sick all winter--for him, for me, for everyone in our family. It makes my heart ache whenever he's sick. I want to just wrap him up, snug him into a pocket like a kangaroo; keep him close. Right now he's next to me on the couch breathing faster than usual, eyelids heavy. My little boy. ***

On the way home he looked out the window at a passing church. "Who lives in that castle?" he asked.

"That's not a castle," I replied, "It's a church."

"What do they do there?" he asks, earnestly, his question empty of irony.

How do you answer this to a four year old who hasn't gone to church? It's not that I don't want to bring him--it's that I haven't found a place that feels right, that feels free and expansive and generous and un-dogmatic.

I grew up with so much faith in my house--my father was a minister in fact, in a small esoteric church whose brand of Christianity was at once both utterly progressive and utterly archaic. Religion saturated everything my family did in some way: from church on Sunday among a forest of adult knees and elbows; to the way we celebrated holidays, or said grace over meals, or prayers before bed.

On one hand this certain web of faith held me, buoyed me up, carried me through childhood with a certain cyclical rhythm that was satisfying and uncomplicated. On the other, it made me feel like a pushpin stuck into a map. You are here, this is the way--the right way--possibly the only way. Rigid, certain, definite.

As an adult, it didn't quite fit--nor did anything else. I feel closest to God in the middle of nature; when the sky is the color of melon and ice and opal; when the grass is wet with dew; when, sitting very still, I am witness to wild animals speaking to each other or shooting stars falling.

"They talk to God," I answer.

Bean is quiet for a moment. Then he says, "Do they see God there?"

"No," I say. But then I change my mind. "Maybe they do."

Who am I to say? Who is anyone? As Rumi says, 'There are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the earth."

Bean nods. "God is in all of the churches."

Now it is my turn to nod. "You're right," I say.

"But I can't figure out if God is a he or a she," he says almost as a question. Then after a moment. "I think its a she."

I exhale. On the telephone wires above a faded red barn, pigeons, silhouettes against the paling sky. "I think you're probably right," I say.

*** We listen to Feist, side by side in a pale circle of light. His fever climbs. He falls asleep. All I want is to stay home with him tomorrow, to hold him close. He is fitful. Wakes. Turns to me, eyes glassy, lashes long. "I love you," he whispers.

This is the part you can't even begin to convey to someone who isn't a parent. This, this breathless wonder, this enormous love.

35 Weeks

I am enormous. Every time I bend over the baby resists with a sharp kick. I can feel the outline of his little feet, his rump, his determined knees. Because real estate in my belly is at a premium, he's taken up residence under my ribs. My groin ligaments feel like spaghetti. It seems beyond improbable that I have five more weeks. In theory. I have this gut feeling (no pun intended) that he'll be a couple of weeks early, like his big brother.

In the meantime everything feels like it's been taking place in slow motion. Everything takes effort: putting on winter boots, painting my toes (yes, I still can), vacuuming. Mostly I am counting the days--9 to be exact--until I am done with work. I am eager to be on leave. Eager to be home, nesting, puttering, blogging regularly. I know I've been a terrible blogger. I miss it, but I feel like I'm on energy saver mode, trying to get through these last couple of weeks at work where twenty-two kiddos are trying to devour me daily.

I need distraction. What are some new blogs you've been reading? Or some favorites (not already listed on my sidebar.)

Morning light.

Wondering:

Why are people compelled to say things like: "You had better enjoy the last few weeks with just one, because two is not the same. It's so much harder."

Looking.

Happy New Year...

I started the year off with a bang: in the hospital for a fluid drip after getting severely dehydrated from the most intense food poisoning/vomit/unmentionable sickness EVER. It struck in the middle of the night, after a demure and pleasant dinner out with friends. Way to start the year off with a bang, no?

Small good things:: Part 1

Small good things, right now, this morning as I'm eating toast & jam with damp hair and bare feet a the center island:

* Watching the chickadees dip and dive to the bird feeders out the dining room window.

* The heat of the wood stove and bare feet.

* My skin smelling like yummy new ginger sugar scrub.

* My Ruby Loves necklace--a gift from DH.

* New Years plans with only adults.

* Crisp green granny smith apples.

* A plan to go shopping this morning--by myself.

Our holiday in photos

I keep wishing that my thoughts could somehow be automatically transcribed here so that I could record all the good and delicious moments that have happened over the past couple of days. I am hoping a handful of photos will serve for the thousands of words that I could write, were I to be inclined (but am not.) Firstly, here is the Advent Box I made for Bean this year. Remember the one I made last year? This one was significantly smaller and at his height--so that he developed the ridiculously adorable routine of waking up and running downstairs first thing (dragging his blanket no less) to find out what the Advent Fairy brought. I made a note with a tiny little envelope and a vintage stamp for every day that came along with a small gift or treasure. Some major hits were: a Chinese Yo Yo, a small wind-up bulldozer, heart shaped post-it notes, a single large sugar-coated gummy candy, a music box that played The Pink Panther theme song, and a sparkly yellow pen with a little fluffy duck at the top.

Next, I achieved the unimaginable this year--and baked, from scratch, an entire gingerbread train--something Bean saw in a magazine and swooned over. All three of us decorated it together in the kitchen, getting frosting on our fingers. DH and I kept harping on Bean about eating the icing--but then we looked at each other and realized, who are we kidding? It's Christmas and the kid is decorating a freaking gingerbread train. He's going to eat the icing. DH made the heart out of candy canes on the caboose.

Bean got sick a few days before Christmas. Woke up with a blazing fever, and spent the day on the couch feeling rather miserable. Still, we did end up going out and cutting down a tree, and decorating it made his entire day. The way he oohed and squealed as he unwrapped each ornament made it almost as fun as Christmas morning. Then he quite artistically clumped all the ornaments together in arrangements of twos and threes on the lower portions of the tree.

Christmas morning Bean woke up later than usual. We were expecting not-even-light-out early, but he slept until about 7:30 and then came into our room (dragging his blanket again) for a snuggle before sitting straight up and asking, "Did Santa come?" We made him sit at the top of the stairs while we went down & turned on the tree lights. When he came downstairs, the look on his face was wide-eyed. I think it's the first year he's actually really gotten the idea of Christmas. We let him open his stocking while we went about preparing coffee and fruit salad and dried cherry scones to tide us over during the real business of unwrapping once the grandparents arrived. (Note his awesome pink bunny slippers--as per his specific request.)

By afternoon, we snacked on imported dried salami, fresh mozzarella, and aged vinegar and lounged. Bean was more than content to spend hours with his new remote control fire truck, which was his number one request from Santa.

I was also more than content to play with my goodies. DH was beyond generous and lovely this year, and spoiled me rotten. Soo many fun goodies, including a little Olympus Stylus 1030SW so that I can have a camera with me at all times. Not even close to replacing my beloved Cannon EOS20D, but fantastic to slip into my pocket and take along on trips downtown, or to document impromptu sledding adventure.

All in all, it's been such a good couple of days--and I'm off for several more, which thrills me to no end. I am nesting. Washing baby clothes and setting up the crib.

How was your holiday? What are five things that you loved?

Right Click

Trying to figure out how to use my new MacBook Air. Everything about it is so pretty I cried when I got it. It's as thin as a piece of toast; fits in my purse. Love it. Still--I have yet to figure out what to do instead of right-clicking on everything. I had no idea how much I relied on that feature. Mac lovers out there, help, please. :)

More to come, once I figure that out.

Here

I am here. Loving the snow, and the snug feeling of being curled with the cat on the couch. I've slipped away: to write, to decorate Christmas cookies, snuggle a feverish Bean, make Christmas cards, and do last minute shopping. A real post is in the making.

Getting back in the groove

Happy that the snow is falling. Hanging garlands and Christmas lights. Planning to make a gingerbread train with Bean. Writing. Making photo albums.

Feeling more like myself than I have in months.

*** What are you doing? I've missed you.