dreams of bouncing papayas

I had the strangest dream last night; I gave birth, then waited for the baby to wake up so I could feed him.  He didn't wake up for a whole day, and when he did, he was talking.  'Hi, Mom.  I'm not really hungry'.  He had teeth and looked vaguely like he was in his seventies.  I woke up all confused, as if I were in dreamland for a week.  Karen drew Benjamin Button parallels and commented on how cute the dream sounded, but it freaked the crap out of me.  Thank you, pregnancy dreams. 

In kittenland, Dannyboy is kicking up a storm all the time now.  He's about a pound, and about the size of a papaya.  I had to google one, since I don't think I've ever seen one in person -- now I see why he feels like he's gotten so big.  I suppose he's crunched in there, but still...  Imagine a papaya bouncing around inside your belly!

This is our last week before school starts for both of us, so it feels like summer is coming to an end.  Normally by this time every year, I'm a little bit sad, watching the playing season fade away.  This year, it feels like it's just about time for a new season of play.  Putting together cribs and bouncey chairs, and organizing baby clothes will be a new hobby.

goings on

I have become a somewhat shameless fangirl.  One of my favorite bloggers decided to stop writing, and I wrote him a crazy ranting email a modestly self-effacing email, stating how much I enjoyed his writing.   He wrote back, and was as funny as I'd expect.  I don't know why I'm always surprised that bloggers are real people (who write back when you email, shocking!), but ever since I saw his email, I feel like I'd imagine it feels to meet a Backstreet Boy.  You know, if they could write well, and were cool. 

On the kitten front, I have realized that my daily e-newsletters are filling my head with potential crap about labor and delivery.   There's always conflicting advice from the many updates I receive, and I mentioned one to my friend Jaylene yesterday.  She brought up the fact that babies are born with sharp little nails that they try to remove their faces with.  I said that an article recommended bringing a nail file to the hospital.  She was laughing so hard, she couldn't respond.  Apparently, there is little chance that we will be able to file his nails just after birth, since they'll be paper thin and his skin will be all soft and also fileable -- whooops.  I realized then that I get a lot of advice that all centers around this mythical day that's four months away, where lots of stuff will happen that I won't be prepared for.  I will continue to read the updates because I'm obsessed, but I'll try to read them with a grain of salt a little common sense.

Karen keeps telling me that people have been doing this for a very long time, and that things usually work out just fine.  I don't know what makes me think that studying will help me be a better laborer or a better parent.  Maybe it's just that knowing anything makes all the unknown more comfortable.  I'll stick with that for now.

tremors, a clambake, and a pineapple

All day today, Daniel has been rumbling around in my belly, just like the worms in Tremors.  I just hope he doesn't try to pull any jackhammers down the street with his teeth.

This past weekend FLEW by...  we went to Kennedy Cocktail Hour on Friday night, had a quick visit from some out-of-town guests (hello, Shareen!), had our condo's Clambake Saturday, and recovered and went to the movies yesterday.  Why is it that I always feel like I need a weekend to recover from the weekends?  We had a bit of luck with the clambake, since it was supposed to be in the nineties Saturday...  we had some much-needed shade in the spot we chose in the garden.  We have the best neighbors, if I've never mentioned it before.  Great people to have dinner parties with, who feed our cats when we're out of town, and who bring early birthday gifts unannounced (Thanks, Stephanie) and homemade peach pie (Thanks, Greta.) 

Here's a slideshow from the festivities:



In Kittenland, Daniel is now the size of an average pineapple, without the leaves.

Soon to come, what it feels like to be turning 35, and a hundredth post celebration, which probably just means more of the usual!