I’m reaching the point in the pregnancy where if I’m quiet for a day or two people start to wonder if they’ve missed some big news. But no, I’m just sparing you the incoherent ramblings of a scattered mind. Except right now I’m not sparing you. Blame it on the sweet people who’ve written to ask if all’s well. 🙂
All is well. Baby’s still very happy in there, doing a lot of enthusiastic rib-pummeling. Matter of fact, Beanie thinks “Pummel” would be a good name. (I guess it’s a step up from Peccatoribus.) Rose and Bean have already given the child the obligatory superhero name. All children in this family must have one, I’m told. Apparently I am the mother of the mighty “Airborne.” I am not sure what this bodes for the delivery.
The day before yesterday I returned to my car after an OB appointment and discovered a very large pickup truck was parked so close to my vehicle that I could not possibly squeeze my enormous belly into the space between. I had to climb in from the passenger side. This maneuver attracted the attention of a small, amused crowd. Which turned out to be a boon, because it took the help of a small crowd to get my minivan backed out of the ridiculously tight space without scratching the Very Large Truck.
That same day was Wonderboy’s 5th birthday. And Scott’s 40th. I think it’s awfully sweet that my boys share a birthday. And not just because it means I can get away with baking just one cake. Actually, my big girls do most of the cake-baking around here. This year we tried something new: a peppermint cake, because mint is Scott’s favorite. We added a few drops of red food coloring to the white frosting with the intention of making swirly red lines like on a candy cane. But, um. Everyone wanted a turn at the swirling. By the time we got the cake frosted, there was no swirl action left—just a smooth and lovely blending of red and white. Which is to say: pink. That’s right. We gave our boys a pretty pink cake.
Of course they didn’t care what it looked like. It tasted goooood.
We’ve always tended to go minimalist with birthday presents, and this year even more so. Wonderboy’s present from us was so simple and small-scale it will probably horrify some people, but it has been even more beloved than I expected. We gave him a bag of these sweet crayon rocks from Stubby Pencil Studio. He is enchanted by them. I ‘wrapped’ them in a plain paper gift bag, which he immediately set to work coloring with his wayo-wocks. For the past two days, he has toted that gift bag everywhere, pausing anywhere there’s a low, flat surface to take out his wocks and add a few more swirls of color to the bag. This may be my favorite gift I’ve ever given, just because it has brought my little guy such satisfaction.
(Oh, I just remembered Scott’s guitar. OK, then, it’s a tie.)
Pass the Echinacea
I’m No Jean Grey
Giving New Meaning to the Phrase “Dad Needs to Stop Bringing His Work Home with Him”
Pass the Bon-bons, Please