So I figure I should blog now since it’s been well over a month. I don’t have anything profound or entertaining to expound on, but I can always just ramble on about my life. After all, isn’t that what blogs are for?
I spent Memorial Day weekend at a songwriting retreat in Indiana. It was an amazingly wonderful time, though constantly in the back of my mind was the thought that my son could be born thousands of miles from home. Happily, he hung in there and I made it home as pregnant as ever. Since I went through the whole “nesting” phase before I left, I’m now simply in the waiting period. Only 2 weeks left according to my doctor’s little date calculator thingy, but in light of its uncanny resemblance to a cereal box decoder ring, I don’t give it that much credence. I’m ready anytime, although Matthew is really pulling for me to make it past Sunday seeing as I’m scheduled to run sound for him for three services and there’s no one to fill in if I’m out of commission. I told him I’d do my best, but no promises.
Nesting was interesting this time around. It was mostly organizing things, like going through all the girls’ clothes and pulling out anything epicene (I subscribe to “Word of the Day”, and that was today’s. I’m so excited I get to use it). Then his cradle had to be cleaned out. Over the past year and a half it had somehow morphed into the gift-wrap storage center, so all of that had to be relocated, along with about an 1/8th of an inch of cat hair accumulation. Gross. Of course there was the cleaning. I had the carpet and the couches shampooed so they’d be ready for a fresh batch of spit-up. Double gross.
All the while my belly is just getting bigger and bigger. Either that or my clothes are getting smaller and smaller. It’s a minor inconvenience, but inconvenient none the less. I can no longer park next to a car that’s on the line, nor can I successfully look out the peephole in our front door (which is always a challenge for me anyway). I have to take extra care when spitting out my toothpaste and be sure to get a sufficient trajectory that will clear the protuberance, otherwise I end up changing my shirt before I even make it out of the bathroom. One of the particularly endearing things that Harper, our 18-month old, makes a habit of is following you around with her arms in the air imploring you to pick her up. It’s gotten to the point that if she gets too close to me, I lose sight of her completely in the shadow of the bulge and the only thing that notifies me of her presence is the sweet little voice incessantly chanting “Ahp! Ahp!” I find that pretty amusing.
Wow, this has been some captivating material. Positively riveting. Sorry to have to cut it off, but Dora the Explorer is over now so I should really get back to being a parent. We’re off to the park to soak up this rare day of double-digit temperatures. But take heart- odds are my next post will be very exciting indeed. Maybe it will even include my first photo post! I know you all wait with baited breath. Until then, I’ll be here like always… being mommy, waiting for baby, and trying not to spit on myself.
