Last week was the crazy-busy week. Piano recital, Nativity play at nursing home (those two on the same day), speech, OB appointment, post-office trip, extra ballet practice, ballet recital, choir rehearsal, Christmas shopping. Throw in a couple of days of torrential rains and a minor flood in our patio room, just for fun. (Minimal damage, easily dealt with. Turned out to be not a big deal at all. Discovering a computer power strip sitting in half an inch of water—during the brief span of time between the piano recital and the Nativity play—it sure felt like it was going to be a big deal. Fortunately it happened to be my birthday, which Scott had taken as a vacation day because that’s what a sweetie he is. He was home. Made all the difference.)
And this week? Ahhhh. No out-of-house commitments whatsoever, except for Christmas Mass, of course.
I am so happy to be able to stay home in this snug little nest. (Snug and dry once more.) I’m cooing over the pictures of Suzanne’s beautiful new baby and knowing that my turn is just around the corner. And I’m content to have it be just around the corner—no rush, little one, though we’re all so eager to meet you. My mother arrives on January 3rd, a day after my due date (and I’ve never delivered sooner than a week after my due date), so of course our hope is that baby will stay happily put until after grandma gets here.
But I’m all set for Christmas, just in case. All set except for the meal, that is. I suppose I should give that some thought. Quickly, so I can have groceries delivered, because I’m not braving the store this week. Don’t want to squander one of the bursts of nesting energy that have put my home into much better order than I would have supposed, given the time of year. Yesterday I got the infant carseat cleaned up, its cover freshly washed. Baby clothes are laundered and laid out in their drawers, thanks to Rose. The drawers belonged to Rilla until last week: I finally made my way through every dresser and closet in the house, weeding out, sorting, filling huge bags for Goodwill. Rilla has a drawer in the girls’ room that used to belong to Rose: since Rose seems to stick to a small handful of favorite outfits, we decided she didn’t need a whole huge drawer full of rejects. So whew, we’ve managed to find space for everything without adding another piece of furniture, for which there really is NO space whatsoever.
Rilla is sleeping in her little trundle bed in the girls’ room. She still wakes up at least once in the night, but Scott can get her back down pretty quickly. Wonderboy is waking up a lot, too. He’s getting over a cough. Could be some interesting nights ahead when we’ve got a third night-waker in the party.
Yesterday we made Christmas cookies and ate most of them and put flannel sheets on the bed and watched Rudolph and put a big red and green quilt on the sofa. The quilt was a wedding gift from Scott’s mom’s best friend. Many years ago, when Jane was the only baby, it served as a cover for our old ratty sofa. It’s sweet to see it back on the couch and remember the way the Jane-bairn used to lie upon it, staring at its red stars, waving a tiny fist in a quest to grab one.
The Nativity play last week made me cry: it was the carol-singing at the end that got me. The host of eager children in their homemade, hodge-podge costumes, the white-haired residents of the nursing home, the beaming Carmelite sisters in their brown habits, many of the nuns with fat babies in their arms. Whenever our group visits this nursing home, the sisters are quick to reach for the babies among us. Next year I suppose it will be my little one tucked big-eyed into the brown curve of a sister’s arm, making a little O mouth while the nuns and the old folks and the children belt out their Gloooorias.
And suddenly it’s August
Speaking of Photos…
In Which My Mattress Springs Heave a Sigh of Relief
A Daddy’s Double Standard
It’s All a Blur