But the moon definitely needs a sign.
Compliments of Isaiah, with some help from MS Paint.
It says "moon," and I think it might even include an explanation about how it's made out of cheese.
Now doesn't that clear things up?
10.28.2008
Some things need no explanation.
But the moon definitely needs a sign.
Compliments of Isaiah, with some help from MS Paint.
It says "moon," and I think it might even include an explanation about how it's made out of cheese.
Now doesn't that clear things up?
10.03.2008
The Miracle Scale
We've been reading Charlotte's Web lately. Having watched the animated version more times than I care to admit, the wuggies are obsessed with the story. Throughout the day I see them acting out stories about Fern and Avery and Wilbur and Charlotte, and Nathan in particular was clamoring to have me read the book to them. We've been enjoying it a lot.
This evening we read the chapter in which Mrs. Arable sits down with Dr. Dorian to discuss her concerns about Fern's stories of talking animals.
Upon hearing Dr. Dorian express his readiness to believe such things, Nathan became very thoughtful.
"Animals don't talk in God's story. God's story is about us."
As the story continued, Dr. Dorian remarked about the miracle of the ordinary spiderweb, and Nathan once again became thoughtful.
"If an animal spins a web, that's a little miracle. Not a big miracle, just a little miracle. If an animal talks, that's a little miracle. But if an animal starts playing the piano, that would be a huge miracle. That would be a ten miracle."
He paused for a moment, carefully weighing the various quantities of wondrousness.
"And if an animal came in and cleaned the refrigerator, that would be a five miracle."
And there you have it.
This evening we read the chapter in which Mrs. Arable sits down with Dr. Dorian to discuss her concerns about Fern's stories of talking animals.
Upon hearing Dr. Dorian express his readiness to believe such things, Nathan became very thoughtful.
"Animals don't talk in God's story. God's story is about us."
As the story continued, Dr. Dorian remarked about the miracle of the ordinary spiderweb, and Nathan once again became thoughtful.
"If an animal spins a web, that's a little miracle. Not a big miracle, just a little miracle. If an animal talks, that's a little miracle. But if an animal starts playing the piano, that would be a huge miracle. That would be a ten miracle."
He paused for a moment, carefully weighing the various quantities of wondrousness.
"And if an animal came in and cleaned the refrigerator, that would be a five miracle."
And there you have it.
9.29.2008
MetaHobby
The other day, I zipped down to the gas station to pick up an Auto Trader. I must have done this countless times with my Daddy as a little girl, but this was decidedly the first time I've ever had any intention of looking at it myself.
I'm trying to cultivate an interest in cars. We will be needing a new van sometime in the near future--the days of our dear doopah-mobile are numbered, I am afraid. Our mechanic (thank God for honest mechanics!) will not allow us to put any more money into fixing its overheating problems. We're managing the symptoms quite effectively for the time being, but we know that the end is near at hand for our four-wheeled friend.
So there will be big decisions to make in the near future... and it's hard to make good decisions when you're bored by the topic.
However, I'm thoroughly confident that if one intelligent person is interested in a topic, surely there must be something interesting about it, and any other intelligent person should be able to develop an interest in it. It's an important principle, and one that has a vital role in my parenting philosophy. My goal is to encourage the wuggies to become interested in worthwhile things, not to entertain them with the things that already interest them.
So now I'm seeing that I need to apply this to myself. It would be very useful right about now to be interested in cars... and there's no reason why I shouldn't be able to become interested in them. After all, my Daddy finds them fascinating.
So I've been spending quite a bit of time on the phone talking about the respective merits of vans and minivans and station wagons. I expected him to have lots of good advice on the vehicle-shopping process, and to point me toward good resources. I did not expect him to be able to instantly rattle off the names of every vehicle on the market which seats 8 or more passengers. Along with sundry details about the construction of most of the different models. I knew Daddy knew a lot about cars, but I had no idea he knew this much.
I think my project might be working. I'm not entirely bored by cars anymore, and estimating the real cost per mile of different vehicles is actually a lot of fun.
But really, it's the process of becoming interested in things that interests me the most.
I think I might be starting to make a hobby out of developing hobbies.
I'm trying to cultivate an interest in cars. We will be needing a new van sometime in the near future--the days of our dear doopah-mobile are numbered, I am afraid. Our mechanic (thank God for honest mechanics!) will not allow us to put any more money into fixing its overheating problems. We're managing the symptoms quite effectively for the time being, but we know that the end is near at hand for our four-wheeled friend.
So there will be big decisions to make in the near future... and it's hard to make good decisions when you're bored by the topic.
However, I'm thoroughly confident that if one intelligent person is interested in a topic, surely there must be something interesting about it, and any other intelligent person should be able to develop an interest in it. It's an important principle, and one that has a vital role in my parenting philosophy. My goal is to encourage the wuggies to become interested in worthwhile things, not to entertain them with the things that already interest them.
So now I'm seeing that I need to apply this to myself. It would be very useful right about now to be interested in cars... and there's no reason why I shouldn't be able to become interested in them. After all, my Daddy finds them fascinating.
So I've been spending quite a bit of time on the phone talking about the respective merits of vans and minivans and station wagons. I expected him to have lots of good advice on the vehicle-shopping process, and to point me toward good resources. I did not expect him to be able to instantly rattle off the names of every vehicle on the market which seats 8 or more passengers. Along with sundry details about the construction of most of the different models. I knew Daddy knew a lot about cars, but I had no idea he knew this much.
I think my project might be working. I'm not entirely bored by cars anymore, and estimating the real cost per mile of different vehicles is actually a lot of fun.
But really, it's the process of becoming interested in things that interests me the most.
I think I might be starting to make a hobby out of developing hobbies.
9.26.2008
Graduation
When the generous folks at church throw you a lovely baby shower, while the baby of undiscovered gender is still snuggled up inside, you get a lot of diapers.
As I sorted them according to size, and added up all the size ones, I realized that there were about as many there in that pile as we were likely to go through while he was still small enough for them.
There was something bittersweet about seeing all his size one diapers all lined up together in one pile. It was a big pile... but finite.
The other day we came to the end of the pile. It was time to break open the size 2 diapers.
It's a bittersweet moment, and all the more so because I knew it was coming.
As I sorted them according to size, and added up all the size ones, I realized that there were about as many there in that pile as we were likely to go through while he was still small enough for them.
There was something bittersweet about seeing all his size one diapers all lined up together in one pile. It was a big pile... but finite.
The other day we came to the end of the pile. It was time to break open the size 2 diapers.
It's a bittersweet moment, and all the more so because I knew it was coming.
9.16.2008
Calm after the storm
We made it through the hurricane unscathed, and our utilities are back up and running, although we're still supposed to boil the water.
Airplanes are flying overhead once again, the stranded crawfish we rescued is safely back home in the bayou, and things are just about back to normal for us.
At least, as normal as they can be, when life is so far from normal for so many other people. Most of the grocery stores are still closed in our neighborhood, and with all the gas lines and impassible roads and non-functional lights, it's really not a good idea to drive very far. So I'm still getting creative with the food in the pantry. But the options expand substantially when you have electricity. =)
Meanwhile, all the schools are closed, so Andy has the week off, although he'll probably go in later in the week to help clear out the rubble.
God has been very merciful to us. Ike brought so much devastation to so many people, but for us the storm brought only the soft glow of candlelight, and a chance to get to know our neighbors better.
Airplanes are flying overhead once again, the stranded crawfish we rescued is safely back home in the bayou, and things are just about back to normal for us.
At least, as normal as they can be, when life is so far from normal for so many other people. Most of the grocery stores are still closed in our neighborhood, and with all the gas lines and impassible roads and non-functional lights, it's really not a good idea to drive very far. So I'm still getting creative with the food in the pantry. But the options expand substantially when you have electricity. =)
Meanwhile, all the schools are closed, so Andy has the week off, although he'll probably go in later in the week to help clear out the rubble.
God has been very merciful to us. Ike brought so much devastation to so many people, but for us the storm brought only the soft glow of candlelight, and a chance to get to know our neighbors better.
9.12.2008
Waiting for Ike
You start paying a whole lot of attention to the weathermen when 100 mph winds are on the forecast. So far, however, we haven't seen anything more than some heavy cloud cover and a slight breeze. But I feel like we're well prepared for what may come our way any moment.
We're quite a ways inland, so the storm surge will not be affecting us. And the storm surge appears to be the really fearsome part of this strangely sprawling hurricane. There's really not a lot to be worried about in our area, just lots of precautions to take.
So the grill is in off the patio, so that it doesn't become a missile flying through our window, and the windows are all taped up so that if somebody else's grill goes flying, at least the shards of glass won't scatter too much... you know, just in case.
And we're ready to whisk everything up to the second floor in the unlikely scenario that the Bayou floods enough to put water in our house. But mostly, we're just setting up for a jolly indoor camping trip.
We're quite a ways inland, so the storm surge will not be affecting us. And the storm surge appears to be the really fearsome part of this strangely sprawling hurricane. There's really not a lot to be worried about in our area, just lots of precautions to take.
So the grill is in off the patio, so that it doesn't become a missile flying through our window, and the windows are all taped up so that if somebody else's grill goes flying, at least the shards of glass won't scatter too much... you know, just in case.
And we're ready to whisk everything up to the second floor in the unlikely scenario that the Bayou floods enough to put water in our house. But mostly, we're just setting up for a jolly indoor camping trip.
8.25.2008
Nathan likes his new brother very much. All the wuggies do, but Nathan in particular.
He loves his brother, and he loves the idea of big families, with lots and lots of babies. He's taken to rattling off the names of the dozens of babies he and his wife will have one day, and he insists that now that "Baby Jack" is here, I need produce a little sister named Katie. Tomorrow.
I keep telling him that giving birth is something I only do on very special occasions, but he just won't take no for an answer.
While snuggling with my newborn and recovering from this gloriously special occasion, I listened to a series of Focus on the Family broadcasts featuring the parenting advice of Dr. Kevin Leman. To be perfectly honest I was a little disappointed with the first two installments. It wasn't the content so much as the tone--I was mildly irritated by comments like "kids everywhere are going to hate [my latest] book, but parents are going to love it." Nevertheless, I kept listening, and the Q and A session on the third part was so good that we actually ended up ordering a copy of his latest book.
When the package arrived, Nathan peered eagerly over Daddy's shoulder. "What's it say? What's it say?"
And despite Dr. Leman's predictions, at least one child was ecstatic over the book Have a New Kid by Friday.
He loves his brother, and he loves the idea of big families, with lots and lots of babies. He's taken to rattling off the names of the dozens of babies he and his wife will have one day, and he insists that now that "Baby Jack" is here, I need produce a little sister named Katie. Tomorrow.
I keep telling him that giving birth is something I only do on very special occasions, but he just won't take no for an answer.
While snuggling with my newborn and recovering from this gloriously special occasion, I listened to a series of Focus on the Family broadcasts featuring the parenting advice of Dr. Kevin Leman. To be perfectly honest I was a little disappointed with the first two installments. It wasn't the content so much as the tone--I was mildly irritated by comments like "kids everywhere are going to hate [my latest] book, but parents are going to love it." Nevertheless, I kept listening, and the Q and A session on the third part was so good that we actually ended up ordering a copy of his latest book.
When the package arrived, Nathan peered eagerly over Daddy's shoulder. "What's it say? What's it say?"
And despite Dr. Leman's predictions, at least one child was ecstatic over the book Have a New Kid by Friday.
8.14.2008
Statistics and tidbits
7 lb. 12 oz.21 inches
1 min. Apgar score of 9
He has "opposable toesibles," with a very independently wiggly thumb of a big toe.
He likes to keep his ankles very, very flexed. It's delightful to recognize those knobby little heels that were always poking out of my belly.
8.12.2008
8.09.2008
Hello, I love you, won't you tell me your name...
We had a name picked out. Really. It was just that once he was born, we couldn't get it to stick.
So we've been trying on various names for size, as he gazes up at us with those lovely liquid newborn eyes, so alert and trusting and interested and content... and so utterly indifferent to the question at hand. He could care less what we call him, just so long as we snuggle him and feed him and change his diaper.
I was actually about to call the midwife to tell her to go ahead and file the birth certificate with a completely different name altogether, when we suddenly flipped back right around to where we were in the beginning. We're naming him after Great-Grandpa Davis and Great-Grandpa Johnston.
There's a touch of irony in the fact that the name we've finally settled on, after so much flip-flopping, would mean "resolute."
In any case, we love you, little Willard Robert. There's not a trace of indecision about that much, and we're having a marvelous time getting to know you. Whoever you are.
So we've been trying on various names for size, as he gazes up at us with those lovely liquid newborn eyes, so alert and trusting and interested and content... and so utterly indifferent to the question at hand. He could care less what we call him, just so long as we snuggle him and feed him and change his diaper.
I was actually about to call the midwife to tell her to go ahead and file the birth certificate with a completely different name altogether, when we suddenly flipped back right around to where we were in the beginning. We're naming him after Great-Grandpa Davis and Great-Grandpa Johnston.
There's a touch of irony in the fact that the name we've finally settled on, after so much flip-flopping, would mean "resolute."
In any case, we love you, little Willard Robert. There's not a trace of indecision about that much, and we're having a marvelous time getting to know you. Whoever you are.
8.07.2008
8.04.2008
Childbirth in slow motion
I'm a little less than halfway there.
In other words, right about where I was two weeks ago.
My midwife assures me that all it will take is a few good, hard contractions, and everything will be moving rapidly.
This is what she said two weeks and 5,437 contractions ago.
This time it might actually be true, though... through much acrobatics, I managed to dislodge the baby from his poorly (but tightly!) engaged position that was impeding progress. Once, while I was slouching horrifically (which you should never, ever do if you want a properly positioned baby) he even turned right way around.
He's back to sideways again, though. So we'll see what happens.
Next time around I won't get nearly so worked up about all the preterm labor scares. I just take a long time having babies, and my body likes to get a head start, that's all.
Meanwhile, my stretch marks are getting stretch marks, and my belly button is dilating rapidly. My midwife assures me that there's never been a case of spontaneous cesarean... but I can't help but thinking there's a first for everything.
In other words, right about where I was two weeks ago.
My midwife assures me that all it will take is a few good, hard contractions, and everything will be moving rapidly.
This is what she said two weeks and 5,437 contractions ago.
This time it might actually be true, though... through much acrobatics, I managed to dislodge the baby from his poorly (but tightly!) engaged position that was impeding progress. Once, while I was slouching horrifically (which you should never, ever do if you want a properly positioned baby) he even turned right way around.
He's back to sideways again, though. So we'll see what happens.
Next time around I won't get nearly so worked up about all the preterm labor scares. I just take a long time having babies, and my body likes to get a head start, that's all.
Meanwhile, my stretch marks are getting stretch marks, and my belly button is dilating rapidly. My midwife assures me that there's never been a case of spontaneous cesarean... but I can't help but thinking there's a first for everything.
7.30.2008
Worth Reading
This post is very funny. That is not so surprising. Lots of posts make me laugh, and Amy is very good at being funny.
No, what's remarkable about this little piece is that it makes me laugh, and then suddenly makes me stop laughing.
And then laugh again, gently and joyously, without a trace of bitterness... laugh at myself for laughing.
Pass the carrots.
No, what's remarkable about this little piece is that it makes me laugh, and then suddenly makes me stop laughing.
And then laugh again, gently and joyously, without a trace of bitterness... laugh at myself for laughing.
Pass the carrots.
7.29.2008
It's 10:00... way past her bedtime. I should be getting to bed, too. But oh, the glowing of her grin, the softness of her skin... and where on earth did she get that strange little tender pout, and that achingly sweet little croaky voice?
"Mama-bunny, I love you."
My baby.
It's 10pm, way past her bedtime. I should be getting to bed, too. But tomorrow she may not be such a baby, and tomorrow I may have another baby in my arms. Time slips away so preciously, and I must hold her while I can.
"Mama-bunny, I love you."
My baby.
It's 10pm, way past her bedtime. I should be getting to bed, too. But tomorrow she may not be such a baby, and tomorrow I may have another baby in my arms. Time slips away so preciously, and I must hold her while I can.
7.23.2008
Fruit of my labor
Having put in a week or so of gentle warm-up contractions, and 12 hours or so of intense labor, you'd think I'd have a baby to show for it.
Not yet.
But I do have this cute little bag for September's birthday.
Jessica linked to an adorable granny square tote, which inspired this (much simpler) project.
In digging the newborn clothes out of the attic, I realized just how much fantastic material I have for rag crochet. This used to be a skirt and a shirt. Much cuter this way.
It was good distraction... and it feels good to have something to show for it, anyway.
7.21.2008
No news is... no news.
I've been slipping in and out of labor... it's been very, very slow.
I actually got a pretty good night's sleep last night, but Saturday night I kept having contractions strong enough to keep me from sleeping, just not strong enough to actually have a baby. As I lay there groaning, my husband (still asleep) sat bolt upright and firmly shushed me. It's a good thing I'm used to his sleep-talking. We had a good laugh about it in the morning. =)
Through church, I was contracting gently but insistently, and I was utterly incapable of concentration. It was a good sermon... I think it may have had something to do with the Apostle Paul? This is a very strange experience for me, to be so utterly averse to rational thought.
Afterwards, the ladies of the church threw a lovely luncheon and shower for baby and me, which September and I greatly enjoyed. The contractions were quite easy to ignore as long as I had lots of distraction that didn't require the use of my suddenly nonexistent rational capacities.
Until the very end. I didn't need to leave early... but we sure packed up in a hurry, and the pastor's wife did go over the speed limit driving Timmo and I home.
The midwife met me at home, and one of the ladies from church stayed to watch the kids.
I went upstairs and contracted until I felt like I was going to split in two, and then I contracted some more... and then it stopped.
Second verse same as the first.
This could take a while.
It's frustrating and discouraging... but all the same, I'm very glad for the good night's sleep. I feel much more ready for whatever it is that comes next.
I actually got a pretty good night's sleep last night, but Saturday night I kept having contractions strong enough to keep me from sleeping, just not strong enough to actually have a baby. As I lay there groaning, my husband (still asleep) sat bolt upright and firmly shushed me. It's a good thing I'm used to his sleep-talking. We had a good laugh about it in the morning. =)
Through church, I was contracting gently but insistently, and I was utterly incapable of concentration. It was a good sermon... I think it may have had something to do with the Apostle Paul? This is a very strange experience for me, to be so utterly averse to rational thought.
Afterwards, the ladies of the church threw a lovely luncheon and shower for baby and me, which September and I greatly enjoyed. The contractions were quite easy to ignore as long as I had lots of distraction that didn't require the use of my suddenly nonexistent rational capacities.
Until the very end. I didn't need to leave early... but we sure packed up in a hurry, and the pastor's wife did go over the speed limit driving Timmo and I home.
The midwife met me at home, and one of the ladies from church stayed to watch the kids.
I went upstairs and contracted until I felt like I was going to split in two, and then I contracted some more... and then it stopped.
Second verse same as the first.
This could take a while.
It's frustrating and discouraging... but all the same, I'm very glad for the good night's sleep. I feel much more ready for whatever it is that comes next.
7.18.2008
I did NOT expect to be live-blogging labor.
But then again, I didn't expect everything to stall out after 6 hours of hard labor.
I guess I get a break. Which is okay, because my water didn't break, so we aren't on any sort of urgent timetable.
The midwife went home, but the kids still stayed the night with Uncle Paul and Aunt Lorre.
So we had ourselves a date night. Except that our idea of an ideal date involves way more intellectual activity than is possible for a woman under the influence of labor hormones.
Which I still am, just not powerfully enough to produce any major contractions. The world is warm and gentle and a little bit blurry--maybe the hormones are supposed to help me empathize with baby. Or who knows, maybe during one of those enormous contractions, some wires got crossed, and baby would like nothing better than to help Daddy out with that geometry problem.
In any case, we rented a movie.
And now, for a few observations on labor from the middle of things:
1. It's true. The first thing the midwife does when she walks in the door is tell somebody to start boiling water. Apparently midwives have known to sterilize their instruments for a very, very long time. Go figure.
2. They call it labor for a reason. It hurts. A lot. It's not like cutting-off-your-toe hurt, though... more like weight-lifting hurts, or running a marathon. You know, "feel the burn." Except that you don't get to choose when to stop "feeling the burn." You just keep right on exercising through to the point where it's torture, and then beyond. Way, way beyond. I feel like I have a better idea what the Children of Israel were going through in Egypt.
3. My own personal slave driver seems to be pretty merciful, though.... for better and for worse. I really don't need quite this many breaks, and they don't have to be quite so long, either. But that's the the thing about labor--you don't get to pick your pace.
4. I like ripe strawberries, grapes, and almonds way better than ice chips. Way better than ice chips. =)
I guess I get a break. Which is okay, because my water didn't break, so we aren't on any sort of urgent timetable.
The midwife went home, but the kids still stayed the night with Uncle Paul and Aunt Lorre.
So we had ourselves a date night. Except that our idea of an ideal date involves way more intellectual activity than is possible for a woman under the influence of labor hormones.
Which I still am, just not powerfully enough to produce any major contractions. The world is warm and gentle and a little bit blurry--maybe the hormones are supposed to help me empathize with baby. Or who knows, maybe during one of those enormous contractions, some wires got crossed, and baby would like nothing better than to help Daddy out with that geometry problem.
In any case, we rented a movie.
And now, for a few observations on labor from the middle of things:
1. It's true. The first thing the midwife does when she walks in the door is tell somebody to start boiling water. Apparently midwives have known to sterilize their instruments for a very, very long time. Go figure.
2. They call it labor for a reason. It hurts. A lot. It's not like cutting-off-your-toe hurt, though... more like weight-lifting hurts, or running a marathon. You know, "feel the burn." Except that you don't get to choose when to stop "feeling the burn." You just keep right on exercising through to the point where it's torture, and then beyond. Way, way beyond. I feel like I have a better idea what the Children of Israel were going through in Egypt.
3. My own personal slave driver seems to be pretty merciful, though.... for better and for worse. I really don't need quite this many breaks, and they don't have to be quite so long, either. But that's the the thing about labor--you don't get to pick your pace.
4. I like ripe strawberries, grapes, and almonds way better than ice chips. Way better than ice chips. =)
7.15.2008
Turn, Baby, Turn!
No, he's not breech.
But at my last appointment, the midwife pointed out that he's facing frontward. She said I should keep my spine as straight as possible to encourage him to turn around.
Well, working on my posture is always a good idea, but I couldn't see how being front-facing could be bad thing. After all, it's fun to feel lots of arm and leg movements--not to mention reassuring. Surely it can't make that big a difference which direction he's facing... right?
But now I completely understand.
I'm not even in labor yet, but last night had me ready to beg for an epidural.
I'm pretty confident about the contractions. I know it's going to be hard, but I feel ready to face it.
The back of baby's skull grinding against my spine? Not so much.
Please pray for mercy, and a rear-facing baby.
Turn, baby, turn!
But at my last appointment, the midwife pointed out that he's facing frontward. She said I should keep my spine as straight as possible to encourage him to turn around.
Well, working on my posture is always a good idea, but I couldn't see how being front-facing could be bad thing. After all, it's fun to feel lots of arm and leg movements--not to mention reassuring. Surely it can't make that big a difference which direction he's facing... right?
But now I completely understand.
I'm not even in labor yet, but last night had me ready to beg for an epidural.
I'm pretty confident about the contractions. I know it's going to be hard, but I feel ready to face it.
The back of baby's skull grinding against my spine? Not so much.
Please pray for mercy, and a rear-facing baby.
Turn, baby, turn!
7.13.2008
The Stories that Weren't
"Mama, I'd like to tell you a story tomorrow morning."
My firstborn flung his arms around my neck and grinned at me.
"You could tell it to me now, if you wanted to. I'd love to hear it."
"Well... okay."
"So what's your story about?"
"It's about the Veggie Tales and the train."
"Oh, that sounds like a good story. So what happened."
"Well... nothing happened! Because the train didn't fall into the water, and the bridge didn't fall into the water!"
How frequently do I forget to marvel in gratefulness, for all the horrendously eventful happenings that don't.
My firstborn flung his arms around my neck and grinned at me.
"You could tell it to me now, if you wanted to. I'd love to hear it."
"Well... okay."
"So what's your story about?"
"It's about the Veggie Tales and the train."
"Oh, that sounds like a good story. So what happened."
"Well... nothing happened! Because the train didn't fall into the water, and the bridge didn't fall into the water!"
How frequently do I forget to marvel in gratefulness, for all the horrendously eventful happenings that don't.
7.12.2008
Life on the Inside
They asked if Baby Jack had a home inside my belly. (Baby Jack may well turn out to be Baby Jill, but you have to call the child something...)
I told them that yes, Baby Jack has a nice, cozy home inside me.
And so ever since, they've been speculating about the sort of facilities he might have.
Does he have a bed? What about a potty? You know, surely Baby Jack must be busy building a log cabin, and a suspension bridge. Every baby needs a suspension bridge.
Perhaps this is why my skin isn't fitting very well.
Last night we finally made use of our community pool, having discovered the reason why it never seemed to be open when it ought to be. The spot where the lifeguard naps when nobody's at the pool happens not to be visible from the gate, that's all. I can certainly understand why he would rest in the shade when there is nobody about, but the situation seems to be rather self-perpetuating. Perhaps this might also explain the heated arguments at the HOA meeting over whether or not the pool was ever open last summer. But in any case, once you figure out that he's there, he does come let you in when you holler, so having solved this mystery, we put on our suits and went swimming.
As she skipped happily toward the door, September paused to pat my belly.
"Baby Jack's going swimming, too!"
I nodded in affirmation. We've talked before about how he's swimming around in amniotic fluid; also, Baby Jack would definitely be coming along on this excursion. I wasn't sure exactly what she meant by the phrase, but one way or another, Baby Jack was definitely going swimming.
Her next question had me flumoxed, though.
I have no idea what color his bathing suit is.
I told them that yes, Baby Jack has a nice, cozy home inside me.
And so ever since, they've been speculating about the sort of facilities he might have.
Does he have a bed? What about a potty? You know, surely Baby Jack must be busy building a log cabin, and a suspension bridge. Every baby needs a suspension bridge.
Perhaps this is why my skin isn't fitting very well.
Last night we finally made use of our community pool, having discovered the reason why it never seemed to be open when it ought to be. The spot where the lifeguard naps when nobody's at the pool happens not to be visible from the gate, that's all. I can certainly understand why he would rest in the shade when there is nobody about, but the situation seems to be rather self-perpetuating. Perhaps this might also explain the heated arguments at the HOA meeting over whether or not the pool was ever open last summer. But in any case, once you figure out that he's there, he does come let you in when you holler, so having solved this mystery, we put on our suits and went swimming.
As she skipped happily toward the door, September paused to pat my belly.
"Baby Jack's going swimming, too!"
I nodded in affirmation. We've talked before about how he's swimming around in amniotic fluid; also, Baby Jack would definitely be coming along on this excursion. I wasn't sure exactly what she meant by the phrase, but one way or another, Baby Jack was definitely going swimming.
Her next question had me flumoxed, though.
I have no idea what color his bathing suit is.
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