A little catch-up on the goings on in my happy home.
Baby and I are doing well. Or should I say, Baby is doing well. I imagine my gallbladder must be the most comfortable pillow in the world…something that you’d find on late night insomniac shopping channels. Made by the Japanese 100’s of years ago, and it contains special herbs to help relieve the toxins in your head while you sleep. Better than a dream catcher. When he’s not snuggled up on my bladder, he’s practicing the Cello on my spine or doing curl-ups with my ribs. All this fun and excitement on the inside means that, on the outside, I’m constantly running to the bathroom, chugging Mylanta, and crying to my husband to rub my back. Usually at the same time.
Sir, you have been accused of putting your mommy through hell. How do you plead, you cute little guilty bug?
In not so pregnant news, Laurie is still being potty trained. Which is code to my friends for “Don’t come over without calling first because my carpets are soaking wet and the whole house smells of urine!” I’m bribing her. I’m threatening her. I’m begging her. I bought new panties. I put a Cheerio in the toilet and told her to aim for it. (not sure why that didn’t work) I’m doing everything they tell you to do…and for the most part she’s not too bad. As long as I stay on her every 20 minutes, we do okay. I thought we had a solution for the whole thing the other day when Laurie told me she only wanted to wear diapers. I told her I was tired of changing her poopy butt so she HAS to start using the potty. She told me, “Okay, I no poop no more.” Brilliant! So we had an agreement. She’d stop poopin’ and I’d let her wear diapers. Well wouldn’t you know only hours later she pooped. Back to panties and potties. Fingers crossed we’ve got this whole thing figured out by June.
Mr. Tommy is also doing well. He just had his first school program this week. Boy, it sure was exciting! 50 of the cutest kindergartners you’ve ever seen dressed like flowers and bees and chickens and singing about worms and farmers and Mr. Golden Sun. It was no Miss Saigon, but it was pretty good. I’m fairly certain had the local paper covered it, there would have been special mention of my sons talented moves during The Chicken Dance. But just like on Broadway, there was a bump in the road to a successful opening night. A flu epidemic swept through the class this Wednesday when they were practicing in front of the Jr. High students. When I asked Tommy how it went he said, “It was awesome! The teachers kept having to come on stage and clean up puke!” I’m thinking that day was pretty damn awesome for those Jr. High students, too.
Steven’s doing alright, too. Despite some hiccups and headaches at work he’s been fairly calm. That is, until I started having major contractions and told him, “I think it’s time.” I don’t see him sweat very often so it was kinda nice to know that his cool, calm demeanor can be destroyed with just 4 lil’ words. And then to see him actually get vein-popping-angry when I said just 1 lil’ word. “Gotcha!” It’s okay though. He got me back when he handed me divorce papers. At least…I think he was joking. Good one, babe. Love you, too. Babe?…Honey? …Sugar Dumpling? Uh-oh.
When I’m not torturing my husband, I’ve been trying to prepare myself for the birth by reading “All About Your Pregnancy” books. I read in one that when a woman is about this far along (I’m 36 weeks) she may begin having weird and very vivid dreams. This is true for me. Recently I dreamt Steven and I were meeting the baby for the first time. The nurses had him wrapped up tight in a brown blanket and just his pink little chubby face was poking out. Basically he looked like a strawberry ice cream cone. You may think this might cause me to never want strawberry ice cream again, but no, I had some that afternoon. It was delicious! I felt guilty eating it, but it was delicious!
That’s all from here! Thanks for reading, y’all!