a needlessly wordy update, with tangents

Ahhhh.

We're back in Milwaukee after a lovely holiday in Michigan, where although I had ample free time I was constitutionally incapable of blogging. I got fed and pampered, Jason got to take a break from job applications, and Auden got to go sledding for the first time -- in deep fluffy snow, as opposed to the frozen crusty inch tenaciously clinging to the grass over here.

He is also potty training like a champion, something that I am still incredulously shaking my head about. I guess the stars aligned and something clicked... I'm fairly sure it has nothing to do with the Sisyphean effort that was Elimination Communication -- although, hey, don't knock it until you've tried it, and I mean REALLY TRIED IT AHHRRRGHHHH. I just think he has the cognitive and verbal skills now to put two and two together. It helped that we had lots of time, both parents, no schedule, and grandparents who don't mind a naked butt at the dinner table. There were very few accidents, though, and some incredible moments of showmanship. What this kid will do for an animal cracker!

Yes. So. I've been under doctor's orders to Take It Easy and rest and eat as much as possible because there is some concern that this baby is measuring small. As delightful as this mandate is, I find it excruciating to just sit back and let people do things for me. I know, crazy right? Part of me totally needs it, and the other part of me is saying Ehhh hehhhh, but the bathroom floor is FURRY and the laundry and that phone call and do something stimulating for Auden QUICK and oh no dinner GAH. And on and on. So it's hard to slow down and say No You Do It... it's all part of a very carefully cultivated Mother Martyr thing. And you either know what I mean, or you're the one whose butt is gettin' wiped. Okaaaay? Word.

But it was definitely easier to let everything go while away from home. Now that we're back I want to return immediately to my usual juggling act, and it takes near-constant reminders from Jason to Sit Down and Chill, Damn. Can I say, too, that he is awesomely doing tons of cooking and washing of dishes and plying of increasingly needy toddler? Yes, yes. My husband is good.

I'm approaching 37 weeks, and entering the science fiction phase of pregnancy. I look down at my belly and see the whole thing quaking or writhing or a little heel pressing out and think, Weeeeeeirrrrd; or I look at myself in the mirror and even though I'm measuring small, I feel HUGE and bullet-bellied and my belly button is stretched beyond human imagination and I think, Weeeeeirrrrrd; or I'm going pee for the ten-budzillionth time that day and the baby presses down on my bladder WHILE I'M GOING and I think, Let's share this vessel amicably, shall we? YOU WEIRD ALIEN CREATURE INHABITING ME????

And then I remember that this is all part of the plan: that if it didn't get this weird and uncomfortable, I might just want to stay pregnant a liiiiittle longer -- to preserve the calm-before-baby-storm and all the adoring attention I get out in public. Oh I get all bittersweet about time passing, like every New Year's when I'm all, Another year, can you believe it??? Sigh and sigh. But the gears are shifting... I'm starting to gaze googly-eyed at all our tiny baby clothes and I'm organizing and making lists of things and getting so excited to meet this one. And excited about the prospect of putting on some zipper-fly jeans, I'll be honest.

In the meantime, I have some couch-sitting and ice-cream-eating to do.

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