I just mentioned to Ellis that he might want to go tell Yaya he’s ready to help her make cupcakes. He thought for a minute and said “Hey mom, I’m sorry I’m too busy doing my violence.”
Uh huh.
p.s. Violence - being too rough, fighting/wrestling/aggression of any kind, imaginary trapping of things, pretend shooting, yelling.
p.p.s. Ellis what does it mean to be violent? ”Not appropriate.”
I am 8 months pregnant. There are 58 days until my due date. I have little else to say right now.
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| From Belly Number 2 |
A couple of days ago Ellis and I were lounging in bed watching Noggin. During a lul in the show he made a circle with is thumb and forefinger of his left hand and put the forefinger of his right hand through it. Then he asked me “mom? what does this make?” A billion thoughts went through my head (who could have tought him that? etc.) I said “I don’t know, what?” ”a Q!” OOOOhhhhhh, right. Exactly what I was thinking.
We were about to walk out the door and Ellis crawled up into my lap and said “Hey mom? How did you make yourself smell so good?”We’ve been reading the hell out of Shel Silverstein lately. He will sit still for an hour at a time listening to those poems and trying really hard to understand them. He’s started asking for the poems by name.
It occured to me last night, when I wore heels, that the last half of ths pregnancy has been a cake walk compared to the last one. At this point with Ellis my feet had grown two sizes and I could only wear tennis shoes. I hadn’t been able to wear my wedding ring for 3 months, and I had to take a sitting break in the middle of grocery shopping. With 63 days (give or take) to go I’m only just now feeling like I might need to pawn off the grocery shopping to Kent in a few weeks time. Thank effing God. Of course the last half of the pregnancy owes me from the suckage that was the first half. Last Thursday I met with the doctor who will be on call when I’m in labor. He examined me and afterwards gave this speech. ”I generally tell people they fall into one of three categories. The first are likely to have no trouble delivering naturally. The second I tell should not be attempting to deliver vaginally. The third I can’t tell either way. You fall into the first category.” So yay! I’m well on my way to avoiding those hellacious staples. Unfortunately I’ve been told I’m the very last VBAC the midwives will every deliver. Because the very same doctor has decided he is tired of making himself available for women on the off chance that he will be needed. I can’t really say I blame him, but it makes me sad. These midwives were the only ones attending VBACs in the entire area. If Kent and I decide to have another kiddo I’ll be forced to use a doctor. But I’m also extremely thankful that I will be given the chance to do this the way I want to.
Not to jinx it or anything, but I’m pretty much over being pregnant. I think when people have to maneuver around my belly to pass me in the bookstore I might as well just not leave the house for the next 75 days or so. She’s moving around much more lately. My stomach juts out in insane directions when she stretches. Most of the time I can feel body parts although I’m not sure yet which ones I’m pestering. I thought I felt her nose last night. When I asked Kent if he wanted to feel it he got all “DON’T SQUISH THE BABY!” Jeesh. Daddy’s girl already. I’m really looking forward to seeing what she looks like in there. The last trimester complaints are in full force. Most notably the inability to get to sleep and the dreaded super slow down of the digestive tract resulting in, well, resulting in me buying preparation-H. Other signs we’re nearing the end of this pregnancy:1. We spotted the first cherry tree blossoms over the weekend.2. The salad dressing in our fridge has an expiration date a short 13 days before my due date.3. We’ve seen the sun several times in the last week.4. I’ve grown a couple more chins.5. I’m going to the midwife every two weeks. My sister in law was in town this weekend which was lovely. I think she’s looking forward to adding a girl to the family as much as I am. (what? I am now OK? Shut up.) We drove up to Mount Baker where Kent and Ellis spent several hours sledding. Genay is from South Texas so snow isn’t something she gets to see very often. Somehow, it was so warm and sunny that Kent was sledding a short sleeved t-shirt. It was one of those days where even when you’re in the middle of it you can recognize what a gift it is.Ellis has a cough so we’ve been in bed all day. It’s a welcome change from the running around we did this weekend. I think he has a fever but he won’t let me take his temperature so I’m running on instinct. He hasn’t been this still for such a long stretch in a very long time. But still, the Tschoepe genes in him require that he never admit to being sick or hurt. (something that drives me craaaaazy, and I try very hard to make sure he knows I think it’s OK to be either). Every time he hears me mention that he isn’t feeling well to someone else, he half sits up and defiantly says “I’m NOT SICK”. A few minutes ago at the end of a coughing fit he looked over at me and said it again. Wow, this has become the most boring post of all time. I’m going to end it. That’s what’s going on in my head, what about you guys?
Thank you so much. The way you lined up our recycle bins and trash can at the foot of our driveway to ensure we couldn’t get in or out without seeing them was such a helpful reminder that we’ve waited one entire night to take them up.
It was so thoughtful of you to take the time to do that for us. Especially since we’ve been working two jobs each (corporate/raising child then web design), working late into the night to meet unreasonable deadlines from demanding clients. Plus getting ready for house-guests, plus growing a baby, plus going to doctor appointments, school, etc. From now on my first priority Wednesday afternoon will be to leave my child unattended while I waddle down the driveway to drag up the trash while probably infecting my unborn child with some trash-born disease. Your unselfish act of kindness has inspired me.
Asshole.
p.s. since you seem to have some time on your hands, hows about next time you just drag them up for us. Everyone wins!
E: I smell something gooey
Me: Really? What is it?
E: I think it’s my poop.
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In the bath he says -
I have a penis so I’m a boy. I’m lucky.
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In the car he says -
DAD! I want you to STOP SAYING THAT WORD. I’m worned out from you saying that word all week.
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I should probably say that this is really just my way of teasing my husband a bit. We’re not actually fighting about it. But come ON EWWWWW!
