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Danke schoen, darlings, danke schoen. (So easy, five points for the artist and five points for the movie. Anyone? Aha, I know, not funny.)
I am so behind, with the trip and visitors and life, etc., that I want to say it here. Thank you for your comments on the Good Mother post and the anniversary post. First, you made me feel like a normal, non-committable screaming lunatic and then you made me feel like the work I put into all those little life stories was worth it. I'm validated as a mom and a person and a writer. Thank you. I'm working on replies. If you've emailed me in the last ten days and you're thinking I'm rude as all hell, give me a few more days.
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I can see the city lights. (Title and artist for five.)
Seattle was awesome. Three days without our children, awesome. Shopping at the two story Anthropologie (with a short breakdown during which I had to call my sister and get permission to buy ridiculous, beautiful things with my pre-determined spending money, like adorable fabric covered initials for the kids' rooms), still awesome.
Cute, no? (Just say yes, I get shopper's remorse easily.)Hugs from the kidlets after three days away, priceless.
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You ain't getting a hound dog (or a Great Dane), cry all you want. (Ouch, that one is a stretch, and Matt probably will get the damn dog. He's already got the kids calling it the "dog's little house.")
The mudroom groweth. Eighty square feet of muddy-stuff-storing heaven.
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Oh, baby, baby, it's a wild world. (Last five, make them count.)
So, oh, yeah, I'm still pregnant. Thirty-two and a half weeks.
I'm big, like catch-a-glimpse-of myself-in-a-window-and-gasp big. The baby's big too, with kicks that are now more like punches to the gut than little bubble flowers.
It's almost certainly a girl. Matt and I agreed on a girl's name over fish and chips on Bainbridge Island. We have never ever agreed on a girl's name. I threw a temper tantrum over his rejection of all my names for Ess and he caved. Last weekend, we were talking about favorite micro brews and a name just happened. We both love it. Girl. For sure. And yes, she is named after a beer. That's not really weird here. Gee is named after a bar and Cue's name I noticed on the bottom of our TV screen while watching football one night. Last name of a quarterback. We're not proud. We'll take names where we can get them.
I don't know what else to say about the very last eight weeks of pregnancy in my world. I'd like to put it into sweet, flowery words, but I can't find them. I feel great. I feel sad. I want it to last and end. I feel cute and happy and wonderful, but simultaneously whale-like and tired and scared because oh-my-god-it-she-he-has-to-exit-still-and-that-shit-hurts.
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Tiptoe through the tulips. (Okay, one more, because they're so darn cute.)
Have you smelled the flowers lately? Because it's spring and they smell heavenly.
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