Langer Loksh

The Nest is Nearly Feathered

Today I achieved what I considered to be the final pre-baby must-do: I ordered the blinds for the big, odd-sized window in the family room. It is not an exaggeration to say I have been trying to figure out what to do with that window for two months. Now it's going to take another two months for the custom-sized fabric shades to arrive. Another two months of massive amounts of heat being sucked out of a giant sheet of glass right behind the only couch in our house, where we all sit, all day. Another two months of our neighbors presumably walking around in shock at just how much Boomerang we let our kids watch. But my work--which mostly involved coming up with new ideas for Home Design Guru Jeff to reject--is done here. 

Jeff has admitted that he cannot put together the baby's cradle because as soon as he does, I will go into labor. He has that power. And that is OK. If I have to, I can put together a pack-n-play in under 20 seconds with my eyes closed and one hand behind my back. Or one hand holding Mr. Kickers in a Heisman Trophy pose.

So I think we're getting there.

OK! Enormous contraction...

Don't get excited though...

Major Pre-Baby Accomplishment

I have just succeeded in organizing and placing into albums the prints of our photos from our trip to Ireland... in August, 2007.

The Extravagance of Wax-Tipped Shoelaces

Just had a driveway moment with This American Life: David Sedaris on being forced to take guitar lessons. Listen, if only for Sedaris performing commercial jingles in the voice of Billie Holiday.

Un-Expecting

Chronologically, today is the day when Summer was born. So my third pregnancy (well, my sixth pregnancy) is actually my longest. Bizarre.

Respect the Bump

Today at the grocery store the lovely man who brings my groceries out to my car said "I don't mean to be forward, but are you expecting?" Granted I am wearing a very loose button-down shirt today, but honestly, my poor little bump gets no respect.

Yesterday at work I had Alissa photograph me because I do not have a picture of this baby's bump and I don't want him to feel that third-kid, no-one-cares, where-are-all-the-pictures resentment. I post it here for the record.

Through the Looking Glass

Cindy the speech therapist went to visit Charlie at preschool. She sent me the following email:

Hi,

It was fun seeing Charlie at his school today. He was very sweet and inviting.

Based on what I saw today, in spite of the noise level, he seemed to have no difficulty hearing today in a variety of situations. No one (peers or adults) had difficulty understanding him today, either. He was very sociable, made observant, appropriate comments and was a well-accepted member of the class.

He seems to be enjoying himself.

We can talk about it more on Monday, but I thought I'd give you a few of my observations.

See you on Monday. Have a good weekend!

Cindy

On Monday, there was a fire drill during speech, so Cindy and I chatted while Charlie watched the three fire trucks (two pumpers and a ladder) in the driveway. Cindy reiterated that she has nothing to work on with Charlie so she's working on Ls and Ths, even though those are things you don't really bother to work with in kids this little because they're so hard. (I didn't ask her if she wanted to hear my play my muitar after we serve messert.)

For the first time, however, I didn't get the sense that Cindy was desperately trying to unload Charlie from her roster. She acknowledged that because of his hearing loss, we need to keep a close eye on his speech, and also that we are only halfway through the year on this IEP. She seemed to indicate that might simply like to change up his services--perhaps see him at school instead of in her office. Which would be FABULOUS because it would mean I wouldn't have to get my (and Charlie and Mr. Kickers's) butt out the door for a 9:00 appointment every Monday, a day when we could otherwise lie passed out in front of PBS Kids for hours. So, feeling a little less "off-with-her-head." (Thanks for the metaphor, Jim.)

Last week the report from Charlie's recent hearing test arrived. You may recall that the audiologist told me that Charlie's hearing was a little worse than usual, and that he probably has fluid in his middle ear. When I read the report at home I was shocked to see the word "profound." Meaning, he's essentially deaf in his right ear right now. Ouch.

Any Time Now,

or not, I will be birthing an enormous baby, or not. I am 4 cm dilated and 80% effaced, but apparently you can walk around like that for weeks. And the ultrasound lady says the baby weighs 8 lbs. 7 oz., but I looked at the screen and it said +/- 20 oz. And I know other moms who were told their babies were nine and a half pounds and then seven-pound babies came out.

We have a pool set up at the office. Bob: "Thanksgiving day, after exactly two bites of pumpkin pie." Greg: "Black Friday. Shop til you pop." Etc.

I put the hospital bag in the car, just in case.

Waiting

Do not interpret my radio silence as an indication that anything whatsoever is happening. Mr. Kickers, it seems, is one of those babies who has no desire to emerge. Interesting. I wonder if we can avoid the whole bilirubin light-table thing this time. Just, you know, give birth, take the baby home, la la la.

La la la. Who am I kidding. Even regular non-premie babies are a giant pain in the ass.

What Do Think, Nine, Ten Pounds Maybe?

An update on the Big Babies.

1. Human Big Baby inside of mah belly: Heartburn has escalated to 150 mg Zantac. Wish me luck tonight. Also am perpetually out of breath from no-room-for-lungs; every time I answer the phone people say "Were you running?" Like I can run.

Really though. This baby could turn out very big. It was 99th percentile at my last ultrasound, and don't they say the babies gain a pound a week at the end here? Gulp.

Thanks to all your suggestions, my labor bag is packed chock full of goodies. In fact I'm sort of living out of it, keeping the camera in there just so we don't forget it, that sort of thing.

2. Spruce-topped, ebony-fret-boarded Big Baby that rests on the outside of mah belly: It is so much easier to play than the rental, just because it is a little smaller. Tonight I scratched out a totally respectable "Yesterday." I think I'll be ready when s'mores season returns. Now I am shopping online for a superfabulous strap, which is completely unnecessary. "Just sit down and play," says the guy at my guitar shop. "It's hard enough without fighting gravity too."

Still. Schwag! Maybe it's like, a reaction to the minivan. I need to punk out a little bit.

BREAKING NEWS: CHICKENS HOME SAFE

Beloved chickens Annie and Rosie are safe and sound, having spent the last two nights in our little garden shed, approximately ten feet from their coop, lacking food and water but otherwise comfortable and protected from vicious predators. Jeff actually went in there during the search but the birds must have hidden themselves away without a peep. Fortunately today, Veteran's Day, Jeff had a union holiday and so entered the shed to retrieve some fuel for the rototiller. I was just about to pull away in le noveau minivan when I heard him shouting. We all came running and there they were! They appeared a little dazed but immediately set about eating and drinking. Once back in the coop, Rosie puffed out her neck feathers and bossed around the much bigger Wyandottes. So all is well in Chickenland. Let us not consider the outcome had Jeff not done any yard work until next Saturday.

Oddly, right before this poultry kerfuffle, Summer and I had just finished reading The Hoboken Chicken Emergency, about a boy named Arthur and his pet mutant 266-pound chicken. We recommend it.