A Good Year For Wine, We're Hoping

Matt's parents arrive tonight. They can't wait to see baby, who, by the way, gets more adorable every day. Matt's mom and I are buddies - good gossiping. Just sent Matt to the Cheese Shop for duck liver foie gras, 5-year Gouda & Foi Epi, to be complemented by a Chateau de Beaucastel Chateauneuf-du-Pape, which we'll let his parents purchase. ; )~

Matt put foie gras in my stocking Christmas morning, hee hee.

We're going to put together Sam's 21st birthday package (am I the coolest mom, or what) of 2007 wines, but we must wait about 2-3 years for the '07s to arrive. It will be difficult not to drink them by 2017. Practice restraint, I always say.

I've been frequenting Baby Gap online. Sam is good until he's almost 3. I hope our birthday-share makes him as organized as I'd like for him to be. I hope he organizes his toys and cleans under his bed, like I did. He is already showing great progress with spelling and alphabetizing (ah, this poor kid has no chance).

Back to freelance writing; the house is quiet.

Happy New Year!

Merry Christmas, MARRY New Year!

Happy, Happy, Happy!

Back in the Saddle

....Been away a few days on a little "Jill holiday". Nice place, continuous room service, all the care for which one could ask. I slept a lot. ; ) Missed Matt and Sam fiercely, their identical smiles.

T-Ex's photo ID landed here for some reason. I cut out her this-took-me-three-hours-to-get-ready picture, replacing it with a dragon. Saving it for Matt's stocking.

The little man's first Christmas is coming. I say, "Sammy, better burp quickly...Santa is watching."

Matt wrote me a card that made me cry. Amazing grace.

The Song Remains The Same

I'm in love with two people.

I copied lyrics to Happy Tapping with Elmo and sent them to Matt as a joke, saying, "Learn these." I added: Life sure has changed, huh?

He replied: For the better.

Awwww. My boys.

Goodbye Julia

Congresswoman Julia Carson died yesterday morning. She was poisoned...by cigarettes. I liked her very much. I met her a few times, voted for her when I lived in her district, and wrote about her in the Bose McKinney & Evans book. Angie worked on her campaign. Eva posed with her a couple of times for photos. : )

She rescued Mr. McK. at a D.C. hearing over whether or not he was "redlining" at his bank. He certainly was not, and she helped prove it. She was a smart cookie and a soulful woman. Must send Mr. McK. a note.

Kev and I attended an "Alternative Weekly" meeting in D.C. several years back, and Mr. McK. joined us. At a particular symposium, I remember some youngster, born deep in the 70s, rattling off nonsense about JFK. Mr. McK. stood up and said, "Young man, you know nothing about JFK." The kid said, "Yeah, what do you know about him?" Mr. McK. replied, "We were friends...I ran his Indiana campaign."

Slam!

Andy Jacobs gave a sweet speech on TV for Julia. Must send him a note too. Such intelligent, caring, decent people in the world; I worry about Julia's now-open seat.

Cooking and Cleaning

I love including Sam in everything. Today I asked him to hold my letters that I needed to mail - he found this very funny. We made homemade granola together, and we're about to bake a pie (as soon as he wakes from his nap; the granola wore him out). I told Matt that Sam will be so very marriageable some day, since he'll know how to cook and clean a bathroom. Matt said, "Sammy, let me talk to you about the marriage thing....sometimes you have to take a couple of runs at it." ; )

We're eloping. We buy our tickets...maybe tonight!

Mystery in the Diaper

Yesterday, I was changing Sam and a ball bearing rolled out of his diaper. First this startled me. I asked, "Sam, were you trying to make Mommy a pearl...?"

It didn't seem to have "passed" through him...so where did it come from? He hasn't the skills to pick up such an object and digest it. So where did it come from? Matt and I are completely baffled.

I had to get my eyes dilated today (my final follow-up to Lasik surgery in January, under which terms I wasn't supposed to be pregnant, and I didn't know that I was pregnant, but I was pregnant), then Sam and I headed to the grocery. Don't try this at home. I couldn't see a damn thing near-sighted; I bought decaf coffee for God's sake, couldn't see the expiration date on the skim milk. I kind of felt my way around via familiarity, praying that I wouldn't be humiliated when unable to select "credit" or "debit" on the small checkout screen. We made it home unscathed.

We visited Derwood (99 bottles of wine on the wall, 99 bottles of wine...) and the folks at his firm today. D held Sam and Sam giggled at his awkwardness in holding an infant. Sam knows a novice when he feels one; D prefers kids when they're at the "dirt bike" stage.

I stopped by to return a bunch of cds I'd swiped from him 12 years ago. Just cleaning up the Karma. Sam flirted with the secretaries and D said, "Cute kid!" Yep.

I'm tired and Sam will be hungry in about an hour. Sigh. He's always hungry. I bought him a hippo for Christmas.

Long Live The Day

I spent the afternoon at Absolu Spa, thank you, Matt. Every muscle is relaxed, every pore is clean. Rarely do I pamper myself; the esthetician said I have good genes, thanks Mom!

Matt is cooking... imagine that. We usually eat around 11:00. We're munching Foi Epi. We have one month to drink Beaujolais Nouveau before they're all put out to pasture. I've got him drinking Cotes du Rhones, and we spent an hour trying to find a demi glace recipe. We love French fries. Our dear little francophile family.

Sam is really into YouTube now, mostly Elmo, Bert, Ernie. He's easy to please, like me. We watched "Happy Tapping" with Elmo about 29 times today. I held him up and let his feet brush my legs, making him believe in tapping too. He was so giddy. I cherish every moment with that baby. I've turned into my father (as if I hadn't already), and I make up at least 10 songs a day about the ongoings of "Sam." He's a natural born protagonist, that kid. He will be the feature of my prose for years to come.

Matt is singing "I've Got Two Eyes" to Sam in the kitchen right now...I must intervene. Sam prefers a soprano on this one.

Missing

I miss Angie. Happy Birthday, sister. It's Pearl Harbor Day, bombshell. I was just thinking about all the times we hung upside down on our swingset, trying to get attention from the boys. We've grown up, some. :)

I miss Anne. I was just thinking about Fiona walking outside, holding a can of Comet, and asking us how to clean a bathtub. Sheez. Reality check.

I miss Debbie. I was just craving a stromboli (skipping French class) and a beer at Nick's.

I miss Alex. I was just remembering stomping on leaves outside the law school. Funny, funny guy.

This list could begin to get very long, but Sam is crying.

I do not miss a time when there wasn't Matt or Sam...

Christmas Exclusion

Uh huh: 4:02 a.m.

Although it's been said many times, many ways, Matt made note that Sam was overlooked when offered the simple phrase about kids from one to ninety-two...

It's snowing hard, it looks beautiful outside. Mostly, I love that I don't have to drive in it!

Freelancing has begun...

Clean Freak

Just an observation: when I cook, Matt and I both say, "Mmm, not bad," or "Much improved!" When Matt cooks I want to lick the plate.

We invested in copper pots...they really make all the difference as the heat distributes evenly.

I am such a geek.

Our next house will not have an old, gross basement with crickets (yes, we have a growing cricket population...and of course I will not kill them), nor will we ever have shower doors. No matter how extravagant and lovely the doors, they get gross with time, and I'm tired of cleaning shower doors.

I knew it was love when, at Matt's old house, I first cleaned his shower. I took the drain cap off because it kept clogging, and found a large clump of brown permed hair, which I had to cut off with scissors (it had never been cleaned). As I held back the throw up, I thought, "I think I'm in love here..."

Now it's just baby poop and spit up.

Hipster

As you may have heard, I have this thing for the Tragically Hip. I sent some photos of Sam, and Gord Downie wrote these sweet words to me today:

he's a beauty Jill
nice to read you settling into your lifelong love affair.
it just gets richer and richer.
he's a lucky kid to have a mum like you.
happy first merries coming up
happy days always
g

I told Matt that I can't wait to take Sam to his first show soon. Matt raised an eyebrow and grumbled something, but I was selectively listening. ; )

Sam's First Shots

Yeah, it's 2:36 in the morning; Sammy just had a bottle. I am congested, and it feels like I swallowed a ball of wax paper.

Last night I woke in a startling cough that lasted several minutes...enough to even wake Matt, which is highly unusual. If I need to get him up from now on, I'll cough. I got out of bed to get water, and right as I passed Sam's room I felt the dreaded tickle again. I covered my mouth with both hands and ran to the bathroom and cough-attacked into a towel. The things moms do.

Sam had his shots today - KILLED ME. His huge blue eyes looked like the sea in a thunderstorm, poor little lad. I held his hand, kissed his little cheeks and shook his favorite lion rattle while we both beared the pain. The pediatrician told me I needed a flu shot while I was there, and I had a horrified "Terms of Endearment" moment, but luckily no lump. Just the sore throat, cough, breathing passage out of one nostril only. Sam and I, we're survivors.

In The Spotlight

I've been weeding through old photo albums (I've had 3 glasses of wine, so bear with my spelling) this week, compiling boxes instead of cumbersome tomes. I found so many photos of my friend Eric, always at my side at the bars (my former lifetime), while I was next to some creep I was dating or chasing, always watching out for me. He's an amazing friend. The best, really. That guy would stop in the middle of his wedding (I hope he has one soon!!!) to come to my rescue, I swear. I love his girlfriend, too, but if she ever messes with him she has to reckon avec moi! ; )

Matt is cooking steak Diane. Matt is also amazing. The best, really. Hee hee... Our little boy is beginning the stage of humor, and it's fantastic. He thinks my slapstick is brilliant, which brings such joy to my heart. I choked today on balsamic, and Sam laughed. He needs to discern comedy from tragedy. Hmph.

Matt let me cut his hair last weekend...with shears! Holy Haircut, Batman! He has such trust in me (much more than...oh, never mind). He said he looks like Fozzy Bear. Speaking of Fozzy Bear, Sam is getting Tickle Me Elmo from Santa.

Wait: different TV program.

Eh, goodnight all. Life is amazing; the best, really.

Vino Italia

Cooked dinner (you don't "fix" dinner - it isn't broken!). Had a 1997 Fattoi Brunello di Montalcino. Am turning Sam into a proper wine snob. ; )

Reeeeeeeally can't wait to see Italy, someday...

Eva in Chicago - Thanksgiving

The cutest niece! I took Eva (Eh-vah; don't call her "Ee-vah, or you'll hear about it) and Sam up to visit the big Brooks bunch last night. She was looking at my Day of the Dead figures before we left, and I said, "Ev, those are from Mexico, they're called..." and she said, "Yeah, Day of the Dead. It's a day to respect your ancestors, but in America they've turned it in to a dumb holiday." I stood there nodding. This seven-year-old knows everything, I swear. Ask her about Frida Kahlo, Picasso, Miro...anyone. She knows. She's smart. She was telling my dad and me that she finds her gym teacher "a bit harsh." We cracked up. :) Love, love love her! She made Sam's bottles, held him and fed him. I took care of the burps, hee hee...

Barcelona Tapas

We found this amazing new tapas restaurant downtown; whoever owns it must be Spanish because it's very authentic, a true feel of Barcelona. The four of us downed $300 worth of wine and, basically, appetizers. The only thing missing is jambon hanging from the ceiling. Sooooo yummy. This photo was taken at Mo's, where we cocktailed first; I hadn't been there since I announced to friends that I was pregnant in January, after pretending to drink martinis all night.

We love going out with Jason and Beth. Rumor has it, we are planning a trip to Tuscany... ; )

Yes, sir, these are my babies

Sammy helped us select our rings this weekend! : ) I hate anything dealing with a "princess," (thank God we had a boy to avoid all of that) except the cut of my engagement ring!

IU Basketball Team 1936

Matt's grandfather (Fred) is #5 on the front row.

Jill's grandfather (Jake) is #6 on the second row.

Amazing!

Happy Thanksgiving

Shhhhhhhhh...Sam just fell asleep. Matt said, "Nobody move."

Destiny! Matt and I found out today that our grandfathers did, indeed, play on the same basketball team at IU. They're in a book about the history of Indiana University basketball, and in the photo Matt's grandfather is on the front row and my grandfather is practically standing right behind him. So bloody cool!

We had a wonderful day with the Brooks bunch; our 92-year-old-grandmother; aunts & uncles/parents; 13 grandchildren; 6 great-grandchildren. Grandmother Brooks is smitten with Sam right now, the youngest. A family full of girls, she said, "We needed another boy, honey." We missed Ang & Ev.

Shhhhhhhhh...Sam is semi-crying in his crib; let's see if he'll work through it.

Everyone is excited that Matt and I are getting married, and we're thinking more and more about eloping. I actually hate being the center of attention, unless I'm telling a really good joke or story and all eyes are on me. ; ) Walking down the aisle in a fluffy white dress: not really me.

Sam needs a pacifier; please hold.

He didn't work through it; Matt's holding him. Sam has us right where he wants us, but we're still very thankful.

Tomorrow night our terrific step-mom is watching the boys, and we're hitting Broad Ripple with Jason & Beth - an adult night out...can't wait! J&B are the coolest, and if they weren't family we'd still be best friends.

An Anthropologie store opened in my town; I'm walking on sunshine! I ran into a friend of mine as I was making my expensive Christmas list there yesterday, and he said, "So, what shows have you seen lately?" I replied, "You're kidding, right? I have a nine-week-old." I told him about hanging backstage with the Hip and the Who, and I'm pretty sure that trumped Ted Nugent. I always detested hair bands. Matt will rest on vintage MTV sometimes, and I ask, "Who's that?" "Um, Van Halen?" he'll answer, in disbelief. "Hmm, I was listening to Aztec Camera that year," says I.

Sam is cooing. We heard some gale force "wind" and Matt was quickly on diaper duty. Sleep is at hand for the travelin' little man. He was a super star today.

Randomness

Matt's brother and sister-in-law were on the Family Feud last week! I watched it, taped it, and laughed hysterically. Being on a game show isn't something you hear about --ever-- in Indiana. I, of course, didn't know that the show was still on; I lost track with Richard Dawson.

Sam and I raked leaves yesterday (Sam fell asleep on the job in his pumpkin seat). We're having the big Brooks family Thanksgiving, and the men are shooting clay targets on Friday. I'm a good shot, but we women folk must stay home, watch our children and bake pies, I guess. Sam and I will venture out and shop for daddy's Christmas present; we're the best team, and Sam is great at selecting ties.

Virgo me, I've already bought and wrapped most of my gifts. : )

Happy Thanksgiving...there is much for which to be thankful!

Tying the Knot

We're going to do it! Matt proposed and I accepted (over a week ago...I'm a little slow on the mention), and we are both so incredibly happy. We don't have a date chosen yet, but we do have a honeymoon destination: a little resort in Manzanillo Bay, Mexico.

Very soon.

I'm the luckiest...

What A Year

Sam had to have somewhat emergent surgery this week for an obstruction keeping food from his stomach. I told him we were taking a drive, and he ended up spending the night in the hospital. I hope he won't have trust issues with me.

Matt and I stayed by his side, and learned even more the value, wonderment and blessing of parenthood. I held Sam for 2 straight days, pretty much, was there every time he woke up. I got no sleep, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

The nursing staff at St V. fell in love with him; everyone who entered the room, hooking up wires and checking monitors, would stop and say, "Oh my, he's handsome!" He is gorgeous, and those tear-stained deep blue eyes broke my heart repeatedly.

He's home now and he's fine ... all smiles.

As good as 2007 has been for us, we're truly looking forward to 2008. A new beginning, the past behind us, a happy family.

And we're hoping that Matt's crazy, spastic and utterly helpless ex will journey to the moon and get stuck there. (I'm being kind when I say this). ; )

Merwin and Matt

How many times Sam spit up on me today: 4
How many diapers I changed: 6
How many hugs I gave: countless
How I feel holding him: wonderful

The thing about Matt...He doesn't talk a lot, but I wish he didn't have to go to work in the morning.

When You Go Away
by W. S. Merwin

When you go away the wind clicks around to the north
The painters work all day but at sundown the paint falls
Showing the black walls
The clock goes back to striking the same hour
That has no place in the years

And at night wrapped in a bed of ashes
In one breath I wake
It is the time when the beards of the dead get their growth
I remember that I am falling
That I am the reason
And that my words are the garment of what I shall never be
Like the tucked sleeve of a one-armed boy

ArteAngie

My sister's world...

http://arteangie.blogspot.com/

http://arteangie.etsy.com/

http://www.moonflowerarte.com/

PDA

Sam seems to have a sixth sense in knowing when to sleep long hours, letting his parents sleep off their hangovers. Okay, my hangover: Matt doesn't get them.

Matt and I had date night last night, which ended in amazing conversation and lots of kissing at the table.

Hold on to your hats...

Sam's Favorite Shoes

Trying to catch a shot without him kicking: impossible. I didn't have the camera set on "action," either. But you get the idea...the kid loves his mommy.

Political Follies

If the democratic party nominates Hillary for its front runner, I'm doing two hits of acid and jumping off a cliff. I don't care if she's a woman. So what.

Barack is our gift horse. Oh, how I wish we'd choose him: intelligent, eloquent, and full of ingenuity. And the photos circulating the Internet of him "refusing" to put his hand over his heart and say the pledge of allegiance...well, I know how to operate Photoshop too. You can't trust the Internet, you must know.

Either way, Bush will be put out to pasture, and we can all rest easy.

Coos and Smiles

I feel grrrrrrreat! I just ran for the first time in months. Being high risk in pregnancy (fallacy, in the end) was the worst hell ever, as I doubt that my heart rate ever got over 80. Walking, skiing and skating are not enough exercise, in my book.

Hungry Hippo is with the Brooks Bunch, and I have a night to myself. Matt is in Chicago for a CLE class, so I've been on baby duty ... alone ... for three days. Akk! Tonight I cleaned the house top-to-bottom, read a little Brothers Karamazov (being so short on time, I'm sticking with the classics, huddled over tomes of prose with my pince-nez, for the next 18 years) and ran. Now I'm drinking wine. Go mommy, go.

Hippo and I have had a great time together. I miss him when he's gone. We've hired a part-time nanny (know-it-all) who relieves me occasionally so I can write and think (and do laundry). When Sam returns to me he's in high spirits, and it makes me feel warm and alive. I wuv him.

We've ventured out for mommy's coffee every morning (coffee is all I have until dinner these days). We took a walk on the Monon yesterday with dear, sweet Kev. It was wonderful catching up, having the two meet. I think Kevin is a saint, and undoubtedly the kindest soul I've ever met. Hippo slept, but if I know Kevin like I think I know Kevin, he left his mark with his voice alone.

Matt escaped the seminar crowd last night and got out for some Blues. We text-messaged (verb) through Hippo's slew of bottles, and missed each other electronically. We're never apart, so it's weird hearing the house creak and Sam coo, knowing I'm alone for task. Sam slept on Matt's side of the bed the other night for a while, and I, happily leaning on my wrist and elbow in pain, stared at him and cooed along. I whispered, "I love you...and I love your daddy." Sam got that little smile on his face, which I refuse to believe is a gas pain.

Heros

I've yet to verify, but Matt and I have reason to believe that our grandfathers were friends, and played basketball at the same time at I.U.: 1937 Big Ten Champs. Our worlds were meant to collide.

Our hungry, hungry hippo already weighs 12 lbs, and I think he'll be a basketball player too. Matt has some freakishly tall relatives, but he's 6'2" and I'm 5'7", so Sam should be tallish, not smallish.

Life is still wonderful and Sam, oh my, he's the best baby. He laughs and "talks" a lot now. Grunts a lot too.

My favorite way that Matt protects us: ignore and delete. ; )~

Family Unit

Well, it's official. I'm a stay-at-home mom. At least for now. I just can't justify leaving Sam with someone else for 40 hrs + per week, and as he develops I know it'll get easier to write from home. Right now it's hard to find time to shower.

Yesterday was the first time he really smiled at me, recognized me. He did it to Matt too. My friends said this "recognition" would come around 3 months, but, well, Sammy's advanced....Ha. I love moms who say that. I'm not sure if he's advanced, but he sure is demanding.

We have "family time" every night, with Sam between us on our bed. We talk about our days, and let Sam tell us what he can. Matt stays up with him every night during the witching hours, 10-midnight, and I take over in the wee hours (when he falls right back to sleep). My average sleep each night is about 5 hours, and never consecutively. But I love holding him in the dark, when the house is quiet and he's warm and sleeping against me. A better feeling doesn't exist.

Matt and I joined checking accounts over the weekend. This was a huge step for two very independent people, but we're a unit now; we know this, we love this, and we share everything. Matt was holding Sam the other night and said, "Jill, we created this boy...look at him, he's the perfect combination of us." He is. His Brooks features are beginning to surface (appetite!) and every day is a blossoming adventure.

Right now, I have no appetite, and I'm back to a size 4: hallelujah! Lucky me (lucky Matt). ; )

Walking the Monon

Sam and I took our long, daily walk today as the wind shifted and rain threatened a visit. Sam slept in his high-tech-all-terrain-pumpkin-seat-assault-stroller, covered in mosquito netting. I took three bites myself for the home team, because that's what mommies do.

The only time he opened his eyes was to growl at a lawn mower, and then a dump truck, both making noise and keeping him from his baby dreams and heavenly, adorable sleep smiles.

I'm in love all over again.

This Is Our Life

Sam is wonderful, such a great baby. He's held up his head and looked around the room since the first 8 seconds of his life (yes, I'm sure he's advanced). ; ) My mom's in town and today we ate lunch at Bazbeaux, where they told me Sam's stroller was a fire hazzard (come on) and they played very bad 80s music. Madonna; the theme to Top Gun; the Tina Turner theme to some 007 movie; the song that goes "turn around bright eyes..." Dear God. I told Sam to plug his ears.

Matt and I are in full baby swing now and we're getting the nighttime feedings down. Am I going back to work? Eh, probably not. I must decide this week. I have lined up freelance writing with a PR firm, and I'll make a lot more moolah anyway (I never work for money, I work for a cause). I have a lot of decisions to make...immediately. I love my job...been there 5 years now!

Thanks so much to all of our friends and family for their support during these first difficult weeks. The baby is almost a month old! Thanks for the phone calls, tremendous gifts, dinners brought to us, etc. What amazing people in our lives. Matt and I are constantly looking at each other saying, "We're so blessed. This is our life...let's live it!" We love every minute.

Sam is Matt with my social skills (he's a talker!!). Blonde, blue-eyed, alert and very, very long. I can't squeeze him enough!

Baby Blues

I've been singing to my baby the Grateful Dead lyrics to Uncle John's Band: Well the first days are the hardest days... and he seems to understand. I followed it up with sound advice: when you're anywhere past the ninth grade, don't ever send someone song lyrics to describe your emotions. Don't plagiarize; either write your own poem or move on.

These first two weeks have been challenging to say the least, but Matt and I are getting it down now. We're a great team and taking "shifts" is the trick to management. My OBGYN says that new babies drive particularly organized people nuts for the first 6 weeks or so. Well stated.

Our baby, as most C-section babies are, is quite perfect. No cone head or squished parts. He's just so gorgeous, and he loves to cuddle, coo and burp...very much like his daddy. He's a keeper.

Matt's parents are in town this weekend and we're heading to a patch to allow this fellow to choose his first pumpkin.

His social security card arrived yesterday. Funny! Life is sweet.

He's Here!

He's so gorgeous. Born last week in a dramatic and emergency C-section, 8 lbs 1 oz, 21.75 inches long. Matt and I are so in love with him. He likes cuddling in the frog position. Matt's taking millions of photos and videos, and I'm trying to get over the swelling of surgery...ugh.

We're emailing photos if you want them - none here, ever.

He's a ringer for Matt's baby photo. We just can't get over how perfect he turned out. Mmm, love.

Ah, my little frog is crying. More soon....

Well, I've Done It Again

Yes, I'm still pregnant and no, I don't want to talk about it.

I disturbed nature again this afternoon. If you all remember, I ran off some baby birds last summer (and, as you also may remember, I wasn't terribly fond of the particular "breed," especially those who still call drunk around Midnight).

Today, I think I slowly killed a caterpillar clinging to my tomato plant.

I'm pretty sure I identified it from photos online: a hawkworm (soon to be a moth that gets inside and eats my sweaters, so what am I really worrying about; and, yes, I have an exorbitant amount of time on my hands right now).

The poor thing had rows of small, white fuzzy things covering it (I won't say the word, but I think they become flies), so to rescue it, I got a twig and gently (this is where plans went awry) massaged them off.

Green "blood" started oozing out; I said, "Sorry!" and ran inside the house.

If I have a prissy little girl who's afraid of bugs, I won't want to talk about that, either.

Nothing is haaaaaappening...

This baby doesn't want to come out. I scheduled inducement today, just in case. My only choices were September 11 (no thanks) or ... my birthday. Hopefully it'll come before then.

A couple of girlfriends have said, "How can you call the baby an "it???"" I replied, "I could call it a fork, and it wouldn't know the difference." Yes, it is a he or she, a boy or girl, a Sam or a Harper, but I get tired of saying that. Plus, it kicks me.

I'm already on "maternity leave," which basically means I'm cleaning the house. I won't recognize "nesting" when it hits me, because I'm always nesting. Cleaning floorboards or the fridge are common events. Sometimes I hate that I best identify with Monica on Friends. She speaks and I think, "Well, yeah!"

And I'm saddened to say that I've seen more Friends episodes than ever before during this pregnancy. Matt turns the remote control over to me around Midnight, and I feel so alone in the world. "You're not going to sleep, leaving me to my insomnia, are you? Can't you, um, try to make it through Frasier, honey? Honey? ... Honey?"

Samantha Brown on the Travel Channel still has my dream career.

Matt can't wait to float me down the Salmon River, and I can't wait to go. Our child (It) has every travel-gear item known to babykind, and we look forward to using them! We were supposed to hit the family Christmas in Sun Valley, but I don't want to be "that woman" on the airplane: It crying its little head off, and people slaying us with hateful looks. 3-months-old is a bit young for frequent flier points, anyway.

Yeah, I'm bored, but I'm enjoying the quiet. I'm trying to write as much as possible. I'm selling most of my cds (hundreds), and looking forward to the weightlessness. The Tragically Hip will be staying with me.

Things are simply great, fat belly and all.

And I Feel Good

It's 10 pm. Matt is watering my to-mahto plant and I am trying to breathe. Baby weighs 7 lbs 4 oz. I'm finished working for now and hoping next week is gorgeous and cool (although I've heard hot and humid, damned Indiana weather). I plan to lunch and nap a lot.

Friends of Matt's gave us a DVD called Dunstan Baby Language. I've been through it once, and I can't wait for Matt to watch: 30 minutes of crying (some screaming, all Australian) infants. I'm learning their language so that we can take appropriate action with ours, though I'm certain our baby will not cry. Neh = I'm hungry; Owh = I'm sleepy; Eh = Please burp me, and so on. Our lives are changing rapidly and Matt has learned to change a diaper. I laugh.

Matt said that if the baby is in fact a male, it's going to be a mama's boy...because it doesn't want to come out! Soon now, so soon.

I was up writing my story from 4-6 am today. I'm living on tosses and turns. A new dawn, a new day, a new life for me...

I Think I Love You

My friend Eric has the best job: producing bands, which I like to call "hanging out with bands." Over the years, he’s shared this ability, letting me go backstage and hang with the likes of Peter Gabriel, Lenny Kravitz, John Doe, Squeeze, Crowded House, Sheryl Crow, Camper Van, Wilco, Counting Crows, Smashing Pumpkins, Stone Temple Pilots, Michelle Shocked, Stray Cats (or did I manage that one myself?) … and far too many more to mention. But this summer he got to hang out with David Cassidy and, c’est la vie, I was too pregnant to join in on the fun.

David Cassidy began his career with state fairs, and it looks like he’s ending on the same path. Eric said that someone from “security” had to pick him up at his hotel, and that David was booked under a fake name (not allowed to mention it, but it’s someone famous from Indiana), which he always uses so that his swarm of fans can’t find him. Hehehe.

(An aside: Did you know that the Partridge Family was based on the real-life family, the Cowsills, who also sang the song "Hair" for the Hair soundtrack?)

David waited backstage until Eric told him “you’re on,” and then he played guitar, apparently very badly, for his 1,500 women fans, thanking them repeatedly and telling them, again repeatedly, that he doesn’t “do” encores.

He was contracted to play for 90 minutes, and at 88 minutes he ended the show, walked down from stage and asked Eric what time he had. Eric told him, and David said, “I’ll be back in 2 minutes,” playing another song. Eric, of course, wasn’t going to sue over the infraction, and summed him up as: What a weirdo.

Mitch Daniels’ wife met him and I didn’t. I’m pissed about that.

Digressing to the baby front, I’m so very tired of people asking, “When are you due?” (because I’m obviously ready to pop). Matt said I should start answering, “Oh, around Christmas, but we think the doctor made a mistake, it’s more like early January….”

Matt told me I should shoot for 09/08/07.

Reward

Matt's car broke down on I-70, and he called me to save him. "Hoosier Helpers" beat the AAA truck to the scene, but Matt cooked me a lobster dinner anyway, for helping. Sweetie, and can he ever cook! He hates lobster. We listened to jazz, sipped wine. Anything Stan wants, Stan Getz.

Nanny Diaries

Matt and I met with a neighborhood nanny who came highly recommended by friends. She's from Mexico (legally), and has the name of a hugely popular Mexican drink. I thought it was a sign at first, because I'm partial to alcohol.

We went to her house, where, there dwelling with her family, were at least 19 Guadeloupean Virgin Mary and Jesus icons, either hanging on walls or collecting dust on carved, folksy, wooden tables. The kind lady never stopped talking during our entire visit, and when we left, Matt said, "I'd rather go to the dentist once a week than have to pick up my child and talk with that lady everyday. I would just honk from my car and let her carry him/her out."

We also decided that one Virgin Mary or Jesus -- your choice -- is ok, if you're in to that type of thing, but that 19 was way too scary for our little non-denominational cherub.

I cried when we left, and told Matt that I know the answer: the best nanny is ME. He wholeheartedly agreed. Details to sort out later.

Zzzzzzz

Ah, we were delighted to see that the couple sitting next to us at Ruth's Chris this weekend (in the bar, I kid you not) had their 2-yr-old daughter accompanying them. Hooray: Ruth's Chris is kid-friendly! Our waiter asked if we were celebrating an occasion. Every day is worth celebration, no?

Personally, I celebrate our conversation. (happy happy joy joy.)

Last night, twice, Matt pulled my arm over him while we slept. I was finally, actually, getting some sleep, but I was awake enough to think, "Aww, how sweet."

This morning he confessed that it was because I was lying on my back snoring.

I've never been accused of this before, but I said, "You try sleeping with a 6 pound kid (with a larger femer) on your lung."

Okay, add snoring to the list. Damn it.

At Last, Babylon

I’ve spent a good part of my morning reading my good friend Dave’s blog as he travels through Europe, India, Malaysia, Indonesia, Australia. Most of my friends are quite well traveled, but I think Dave wins.

Considering my current position in life –ridiculously pregnant and quite bored with it all—I’m a bit jealous. This is not to say I’m not happy, because I’m giddy, blessed and loved, but I must create a lever/fulcrum each morning with my arms just to lift myself out of bed. In a nutshell, it truly sucks.

I had yet another ultrasound yesterday, and I have to tout that Matt and I seem to have created a little cutie. It’s amazing how clear the images are; the baby was looking right at me, and then posed with its hand under its wee chin. It looks so bored. We want it out so we can play.

My sister gave us a baby-jogger, and the thought of being out running in 3-4 weeks makes me ecstatic. I’m not worried about getting my shape back as I’ve gained every ounce in my belly (I really should have entered it in the State Fair).

The excitement of my week was finding out that Charlie Trotter now makes marinades: http://www.charlietrotters.com/

Alas, pregnancy.

Blonde, Blue-eyed & Very Stylish

I keep dreaming of what our child will look like, but I have a pretty good idea, based on these findings. Matt said we should have met 10 years ago. I wasn't ready for him 10 years ago, so thank God we didn't. Timing really is everything.

My bag is packed for the hospital, and the baby countdown is on... We're going out for as many elegant dinners as possible before Applebee's enters our life (such a depressing thought). Last night it was Ambrosia; tonight it may have to be Sullivan's. : )

Family Pics

Cat On A Hot Tin Roof

Well, the third trimester won’t get a good write-up from me. I'm certainly not feeling as "glowing" and bubbly as I did in the second trimester. I'm wobbling now, and I only have 4 shirts that cover my belly completely. In a word: misery.

I need to jump. I'm up all night, and I say things to Matt, around midnight, like, "Want to watch a movie?" He said that I'm frightening him.

I passed a girl running yesterday, and under my breath said, “Bitch.”

Boredom sets in, moments where I feel like doing nothing, enough to read blogs as bad as B-movies; something along the lines of Titanic, or Valley of the Dolls. Snore.

I finished another Michael Chabon book. What a yummy writer. I’m giving my 16-yr-old brother Summerland, a Michael Chabon for young adults. Start ‘em early.

Last night, feeling exceptionally fat and unglamorous, out of nowhere Matt said, “You’re beautiful.” That is such a nice thing to hear while pregnant. He sweeps me off my swollen feet.

Finally, true love.

Late Night Chronicals

I’m going through a stage. The stage, regrettably, is called television. My sister called last night and asked if I was watching the democratic debates on YouTube, and I said, “Hell no, we’re watching our cooking show.” Yes, Matt and I are addicted to Hell’s Kitchen.

I never once watched a reality show and I still really hate them. Matt, as smart as he is, can choke down some really bad TV sometimes, and even if I feel like hanging out, wrapped up in a blanket with him on the couch, I can’t do it. Jé deteste le téle.

But cooking is an interest of mine, and I got sucked in. I really don’t like any of the participants left: Rock, the jerk; Bonnie, the crybaby; and Jen, the hick. I’d like to vote all of them off.

Matt and I have a theory, though, that Bonnie and the chef (also jerk) are having an affair, so we’re anxious to see what will happen when she flubs the veggie prep again, then cries about it.

I’m coasting on 3 hours of sleep today. Matt was restless around 1 a.m., and I joined him. We looked up vacation destinations on the Internet. We’re going to California for Christmas (with a newborn!!), but we’re planning to take our own trip once the baby is at least 6-months-old (my family owes me big time for babysitting). So, at 1:30 a.m., Matt said, “Let’s go to Hawaii.” Yeah, baby!

The only part about this baby thing that is freaking me out is the lack of independence in my travel schedule. I have always been spontaneous, hopping on airplanes about every 4-6 months and going to amazing places. Friends with kids say that those days are over, but I say they don’t have to be. Matt and I are going to be the laid back parentals who take our kid everywhere, introduce it to everything possible. (Read: I say "kid," but Matt is already planning our second. I define "big gulp".)

I’m working on my book now, and after Matt went to bed I stayed up until 3:30 writing. I understand why writers do this, because the wee hours are when the brain won’t shut down. I made some real progress last night and it felt great. Truth is always greater than fiction, and I’ve gathered some pretty good characters over the last couple of years that I’m now developing further. I’m always thankful for a stir in the pot because it makes for good material.

It’s relaxing having a baby moving inside my stomach when I write, too—it feels like I have a co-author. : )

The Luckiest

Matt and I are plotting a big adventure for next year. Mexico (we've both already been). Australia, maybe (neither of us, ever). We can spend every life moment together and want more. I mean, who does that?!

My mom was in town last week and I played her my Matt song, "The Luckiest," by Ben Folds. I started bawling, which made her cry. I am the luckiest. With a baby just a few weeks away, and a guy who, just last night, said, "I want us to spend more time together," (even when we're together every night), I know that this is what I waited for all those years.

I was missing New York this week. I love the city and could live there easily...with Matt. The last time I was there I dined with friends at Megu, a posh sushi joint, and Robin Williams came up to our table and shook all of our hands. We didn't bother him, he invited himself (it was a table full of 6 blonde women, which might have had something to do with it). 15 seconds later, Lindsay Lohan waltzed by and the two of them brushed star kisses against each other's face. I sat smiling quietly, taking in the fabricated friendship, and thought, "I want something more than this, something much more real."

When I returned home, I got it. That was two summers ago, and now I'm sitting here wondering what Matt and I will cook for dinner tonight, which music we'll play, what we'll talk about, and how many times he'll say, "I'm the luckiest."

Thank You!

Thank you everyone (who reads this blog) who was a part of our three showers in the past 3 days! We received so many wonderful gifts and we both learned about so many new baby items. At our shower on Saturday night, Matt quietly asked me, "What are these?" I replied, "Diapers, honey."

We appreciate all of the wonderful gifts, and the efforts of our family and friends! Thanks so much.

p.s. What is a Bumbo?

My friend Ken Bethea, guitarist for the Old 97s, just called me...from downtown Indianapolis. He asked if I'm going to the show tonight. Say what? Pregnancy not only makes you fat, but tired and uncool too.

Ken said not to worry about the belly. When he's home in Dallas, he plays Mr. Mom quite often. He said, "Jill, most of my daytime friends are pregnant...I'm used to it."

I have a sore throat, got about 5 hours of sleep, have a banjo lesson tonight, but I'm going to the show; yeah, I'm going, and I'm dragging along my better half too.

Ken and I have been friends for 6 years, ever since my Scottish mate turned me on to the band. We're very much like peas and carrots; our friendship was a natural progression.

If you saw that horrible Jennifer Anniston movie (aren't they all?) about discontinuing a relationship, the Old 97s were in it...I love 'em.

Thoughty

Whew, looks like a case of attention starvation. We already ate.

I'm writing again; been saving all the good stuff. Freelancing is around the corner, soon enough from another state. I need an ocean.

Happy 4th

Matt brought home $60 worth of fireworks last night and put on a show for baby and me. He made me wrap two heavy blankets around my waist so to not deafen Junior; I sat on the front porch, hot, and getting eaten by mosquitos, and watched his display of patriotism. A couple of the firecrackers (Swarm of Killer Bees, to be exact), made me jump, making baby jump too. We felt so guilty. Matt, California boy, still can't get over the fact that these things are legal, that he can aim a bottle rocket right at Paulette's house across the street and not go to jail. I'll soon have two little kids. : )

I'm learning You Are My Sunshine on banjo, we're gearing up for the "Week of Baby Showers," and we're making incredible plans for our future. The recent past seems like a lifetime ago. I now cut coupons for Huggies.

Baby's Room & Belly

I put the final touches on the baby's room yesterday (minus a cool piece of art my sister will be adding soon), and dragged Matt in to see it last night. We both get such a kick out of the fact that, ya know, there'll be a kid in there soon.

The belly keeps growing.

Grueling Banjos

I started lessons last night at Arthur's Music in Fountain Square. My instructor taught a harmonica lesson before me and a violin lesson after me; he prefers teaching banjo, though, and has been teaching since 1970.

I learned three chords: G (easy); C (need to trim my fingernails) and D7 (need to grow longer fingers). I'd actually cut back my nails before I went, and Paul, my instructor, said, "Those are trimmed nails?" Damned music teacher.

Later, I practiced my chords at home while Matt reviewed a contract: opposites do attract. He kept looking up, giggling, saying, "Sounds good, honey...I love it."

Friday and Rainy

So, Jill, what have you done today?

Well, first thing, I interviewed for a very cool new writing adventure, then called my boyfriend (he helped set up the company, we found out after I got the interview), then ate a piece of someone's ice cream birthday cake, then downloaded a Tragically Hip ringtone to my phone.

So, overall, a productive morning?

Um, I don't have to answer that.

Matt returned from Dallas at Midnight and came into the bedroom, kissed me, kissed my belly, and as we talked the baby started kicking. It missed him too!

From The Writer's Almanac

The Calf-Path
By Sam Walter Foss

One day through the primeval wood
A calf walked home as good calves should;
But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail as all calves do.
Since then three hundred years have fled,
And I infer the calf is dead.
But still he left behind his trail,
And thereby hangs my moral tale.
The trail was taken up next day
By a lone dog that passed that way;
And then a wise bell—wether sheep
Pursued the trail o'er vale and steep,
And drew the flock behind him, too,
As good bell—wethers always do.
And from that day, o'er hill and glade,
Through those old woods a path was made.
And many men wound in and out,
And dodged and turned and bent about,
And uttered words of righteous wrath
Because 'twas such a crooked path;
But still they followed — do not laugh -
The first migrations of that calf,
And through this winding wood-way stalked
Because he wobbled when he walked.
This forest path became a lane
That bent and turned and turned again;
This crooked lane became a road,
Where many a poor horse with his load
Toiled on beneath the burning sun,
And traveled some three miles in one.
And thus a century and a half
They trod the footsteps of that calf.
The years passed on in swiftness fleet,
The road became a village street;
And this, before men were aware,
A city's crowded thoroughfare.
And soon the central street was this
Of a renowned metropolis;
And men two centuries and a half
Trod in the footsteps of that calf.
Each day a hundred thousand rout
Followed this zigzag calf about
And o'er his crooked journey went
The traffic of a continent.
A hundred thousand men were led
By one calf near three centuries dead.
They followed still his crooked way.
And lost one hundred years a day,
For thus such reverence is lent
To well-established precedent.
A moral lesson this might teach
Were I ordained and called to preach;
For men are prone to go it blind
Along the calf-paths of the mind,
And work away from sun to sun
To do what other men have done.
They follow in the beaten track,
And out and in, and forth and back,
And still their devious course pursue,
To keep the path that others do.
They keep the path a sacred groove,
Along which all their lives they move;
But how the wise old wood-gods laugh,
Who saw the first primeval calf.
Ah, many things this tale might teach —
But I am not ordained to preach.

Baby Face

Baby weighs almost 3 lbs now! Today it looked right at me ... and yawned. It's bored; who wouldn't be? I e-mailed Matt the photos of our beautiful babe, as he's in Dallas and couldn't join in the ultrasound fun.

He called immediately and said, "My God! It's so amazing!" as I smiled on...

We're making a family (with me doing the heavy lifting, so to speak).

It's kicking as I type this ... go to sleep, little one.

The First Six Minutes

What is the Jane Austen quote...ah, I used to have it memorized, from Sense & Sensibility. Something like this: You can know someone 6 years and never really know them, yet know someone else 6 days and feel you've known them a lifetime. I waited a long time and found a person I'd known for 6 minutes and knew he was mine. And the best part was it took no convincing from me. I still remember the night at MacNiven's when Matt walked in; within 15 minutes we were staring at each other, but not in the "I think you're cute" way; in the "You are now in my life" way. No life drama can remove that now, ever.

Rain does this to me. Rain, reading, hand holding and Matt's hum whenever I touch him. Let's go to California, let's have more kids, let's stay in Indy, let's... OK. Anything. It took me only 6 minutes to get here.

The baby knows about us now; it's a quick study. Last night it was quiet; I shook my belly a bit saying, "Where are you tonight?" It kicked, it hit, it moved for us. Matt giggles, and I love that.

I interviewed my first daycare today, just in case. It was a bit depressing witnessing infants in a linoleum room, but I smiled a lot. It's so hard to plan the timing of things...maternity leave, back to work, Christmas in Sun Valley or California. We can't commit to anything yet, just Harper or Sam, which ever it may be.

Concerts and Baby Jammies

Matt and I went to see Wilco Friday, after telling our waiter at Elements to box our $120 dinner because we had a concert to catch. God, we're radical. When we arrived people were in our seats, and we spent the first 8 songs figuring out that they'd given us seats 12-13 H ... only one was in orchestra (downstairs), the other in royalty (upstairs). They finally seated us in the "trouble seats" which were one row better downstairs. Not bad. Matt took some photos with his phone and I said, "Make sure to zoom in on Jeff." He said, "Oh, ok, honey, I'll make sure to zoom in on ... Jeff!" He tolerates my starstruckness. Matt loved Wilco, thus passing my final test for him (just kidding!).

Saturday we ran around all day, bought patio furniture, flowers, and I bought Matt a firepit for Father's Day. It was 90 degrees so we didn't use any of it (but at least we're ahead of the game, said the Virgo). Jason and Beth came over for din-din and Matt let me drink wine with the adults. Whoohoo! Jason helped Matt assemble furniture whilst Beth planted my planters for me ... such good family.

Sunday, it was Father's Day/Finn's 4th b-day at my dad's; Matt got Father's Day cards all around, and a little outfit for the baby that says: I love Daddy. Awwww.

Last night the baby kicked and I laughed, patted my belly and said, "Do it again!" It did. Every time it kicked I shook it a little and said, "Do it again," and we played this game for 15 minutes. Smart kid already.

I'm getting way fat in the belly (still have skinny legs, there is a God) and I love it!

The Belmont Stakes

I called it! I knew the filly would pull through. Matt and I are both horse fans and have watched all three races. One always hopes for a Triple Crown, but falling short of that, this race was by far the most exciting because a chick horse won -- something a filly hadn't done at the Belmont in 120 years!

Matt grew up riding, and I rode two thoroughbreds, Star and Thunder, in my youth. My grandfather got into the "horse business" when he retired, and I started betting on his horses (with his money) circa 1983, when he raced them at Riverdowns a lot. He owned mostly gelding thoroughbreds and one filly, Galapiat's Sound (based on a Belgium TV series; why, I know not), and she was a winner. She never raced in the Derby, of course, but held her own against horses who'd been in the Derby.

My grandfather would give us each $50 for the day, and I'd lose every penny (I never chose based on statistics, always on the cutest names).

Perhaps my luck be changin'.

Weekenders

Matt is cooking. I chopped. Aimee Mann is singing. We love having a patio again, a house, storage space!

We went to Zoobilation last night - 326 pats on my belly and plenty of these: You're glowing!

I wore a sexy maternity gown - they exist - which made Matt frisky ... love that. Be not afraid of public display, I always say. Between the two of us, we know half the population here.

I moved in with him a year ago this weekend, wow. It all still amazes me, and I still love to stare at him when he's doing pretty much anything. Like now. :) He's easy to love. Cute too.

Sarah White & the Pearls

I’ve discovered a great band, and I don’t say this just because my first love/college boyfriend plays bass in it. They reside in Charlottesville, Virginia, where Jeff went to school ... and will stay for the rest of his life. Sarah White grew up in West Virginia/Virginia, and sounds kind of like a hillbilly Liz Phair. The songs are great, though, with a lot of rhythm, twang and soul.

Jeff was never, ever meant to be a doctor, and I think it’s a good thing. He's a musician, owns his own recording studio. I bought him his first guitar and carried it on plane, train and automobile one of the 4 thousand times I visited him in C-ville. I remember when he first saw me standing at the station drudgingly holding it, he said, “You got me a guitar case?” Jeff was funny.

It wasn’t a Martin, but it was a Takamine and sounded pretty darn good. Still does. :)

http://sarah-white.com/

Perception Is Half The Battle

Jean Piaget’s theory of cognitive development defines the acquiring of “schemata,” the scheme of how one perceives the world. It begins in childhood and covers the developmental stages of gathering information. There are four stages, and within the third stage, the Preoperational stage, exists a process called “theory of conservation,” or the “inability to conserve.” This is the stage where children lack perception of conservation of mass, volume, and number after an original “scheme” changes.

Example 1: Peek-a-boo. A child sees you, but when he covers his eyes his perception is that you are no longer there.

Example 2: A major plumbing blowout this morning, water leaking on three levels. I say, “I’ll call a plumber” and Matt says, “I turned off the water upstairs so the problem stopped.”

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?

I conclude: “Honey, go be a lawyer; I’ll take care of this.”

He's a dear.

Always Plan Ahead

The new hot wines, says mon ami intime, Darryn, are from Yecla and Jumilla. Both Spanish. I may have sipped Spain dry of their Riojas when I was there, but today I'm on a mission to find these wines (relatively cheap, full-bodied) and have them shipped to the new pad.

Sure, I'm unable to drink them right now (*cough*cough*cough*cough*), but I'm investing in the future.

Found them: $50 to ship, damn it!

I told Matt that I want to put together 21 bottles of wine from 2007 and give them to our child on its 21st birthday.

Such a good mommy.

Catching Up: A Retrospective

It seems oxymoronic in scope, but I’ve been so assiduous of late that catching up with anyone, anything, seems like something buried deep in the past. I recall my friends...

Matt has been fly-fishing in Minnesota with his father for 4 days and I pick him up tonight. His absence left me the freedom to hang pictures where I saw fit, and to lift boxes I shouldn’t have been lifting.
My sister called last night and asked, “Is everything in its place? Does it look like you’ve lived there forever?” Duh.

My “service” nature has kept me up late every night for a week, making sure everything is perfect. I unpacked boxes of baby items we’ve received already, and as I stood in the baby’s room inventorying the display, surrealism enveloped me with the fact that we have toys in our house! We have baby spoons in the kitchen utensil drawer! We have a giant frog in the bathroom ready to scoop bath toys! I am slightly freaking out!

I juxtaposed childhood photos of Matt and me in the baby’s room and I almost cried. These hormones are ridiculous. Morphing ourselves together in my mind, I could almost see the details of the baby’s face. If this child doesn’t come out toehead blonde and deeply blue-eyed, I suppose I’ll have some explaining to do.

This morning is mine. I have a large cup of coffee and a stack of reading before me. I finally read the Kurt Vonnegut article in Nuvo (I’ve been moving it from perch to perch for weeks), written by an Indianapolis treasure himself, David Hoppe. I’ll spend a few minutes in “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” and then it’s time to design a newsletter, write a grant, or redesign the website. Whatever it is I do.

Matt wants me to stay home and freelance once junior arrives. I’ve got the options coming in now, so I’m gearing up. But I’ve always worked, always taken care of myself (except that I’m one of the few lucky people I know who doesn’t have student loan debt, thank you grandfather). I can’t imagine staying home for three months, let alone…longer. Matt wants the child home with me. If it happens, I’ll need lots of projects to keep me occupied. I’m thinking about home schooling (until the child is faced with Algebra, then I’m out of there). I want to host a children’s book club. I want to practice letters, words and grammar all day long, like my mom did with me.

Matt and I watched the national spelling bee last week, and he said, “Jill, these kids are such geeks, yet I’d love it if my child were in something like this.” I said, “Honey, I kicked ass in spelling bees.”

I was a band geek and went to State competition too. God help us.

It’ll come to us in time, but tonight we’ll reunite; we’ll cook on the grill; we’ll talk to my belly and linger in love.

Summer Concert Series

So many good bands are coming this summer, and I'll be fat and pregnant for all of them. Wilco is up first and I just scored tickets (right, Eric, I just scored great seats?). I've turned Matt into a fan and the show is on a Friday night: perfect for old people!

The Pretenders are touring with Stray Cats and ZZ Top this summer, how odd. Even more odd, I can honestly admit that I've seen all three of those bands. Imagine, if you will, me at ZZ Top a few years back. Eric produced it and told me I had to check out the stage, so I went. Not a fan of their music, but the moving sidewalks were cool. LOVE the Pretenders & Stray Cats.

The Police. We'll be visiting another city for that one.

When the Hip were at the Vogue a few weeks ago they asked how many shows I'd seen there. Almost too embarrassing to answer. A thousand? Maybe more? Egad.

I begin banjo lessons in June. Oh, sweet child of mine, I hope you come musically inclined so that we can start a band...

Shine On You Crazy Diamond

Memorial Day Weekend. Race Weekend. For most of Indianapolis, a relaxing weekend. For us: Moving Weekend.

We're in our new house now. Matt won't even let me look at a heavy box, let alone lift one. "Jill, stop that. Hand it to me. Sit down. Take a break. Be careful. Don't lift. Put your feet up!"

This Matt quote sums up the amount of lifting he's done all weekend: Jill, this is the second box labeled "play bills" that I've carried into the house - you have to get rid of some stuff.

But I've seen a lot of plays! My Irish/English Lit professor taught me to keep them all!

Oh, alright.

Not helping is killing me (I sneak it in), but he's my hero. The great protector.

I'm supposed to go to a pool party now with Mary, and thank God it's raining! I won't be getting into a bathing suit again until September.

Baby keeps kicking...we love it!! :)

Coffee & Vitamins

Matt and I met at the coffee giant this morning, where I ran into Carl Brizzi, Indianapolis prosecutor and fellow NC alum. We said our quick hello as I ordered my half/half/decaf/regular, and as Matt awaited his latte I went for milk.

Carl's security guard, whom I've met several times, said, "How are you two doing this morning?" I thought, "Hmm, that's odd, " but I said, "We're fine thanks, just having a little pre-work date at the coffee shop." Then I realized he meant me and my belly. Matt walked up and hugged me, and I said, "Oh, I mean that the three of us are all doing fine." Embarrassed, because he hadn't noticed Matt, he replied, "Well, you certainly have that glow about you."

It is very flattering to be given any form of compliment during this time of expansion. My brother said he's always attracted to pregnant women (me excluded), and when Matt tells me I get sexier every day I usually say something sweet, like, "shut up." But I do notice myself glowing - it's those damn horse pill vitamins. Women are so frantic about taking prenatal vitamins. My sister-in-law never took them and the boys are fine. Did they have prenatal vitamins when Thomas Jefferson's mom, Jane Randolph (bit of a Jeffersonian, I am), was pregnant? I doubt it. He turned out ok.

I take them because I want our baby to be smart, healthy and cute. I definitely think vitamins help with cuteness.

Growing Limbs

Nice legs; could take after either of us. ; )

Baby is growing just fine...

The Sad Reality

My extremely funny girlfriend Linda, in whose neighborhood I'll soon be living, emailed me this sad fact today about dining out with children:

Applebee’s is our place of choice these days because it meets our top 3 criteria with junior club: 1. Establishment must be loud with other children present to drown out the screams of your own child 2. Establishment must offer kiddie menu with food that is ready promptly after ordering as well as crayons for the interim. Balloons are a bonus 3. Establishment must have liquor license. Sadly, the quality of the food no longer comes into play for us.

So much for fine wine and gourmet club. I feel a little depressed for a beautifully sunny Friday.

Sigh.

My World Is Expanding

Very often I go to bed while my mind is still excursively reeling, the thoughts seeking a landing pad. Matt and I discuss everything, and I mean everything; from our past to our future, there are no secrets. Things that used to make me put hand to hip and raise a tempered eyebrow now make me shrug. There are scads bigger fish to fry.

To begin, we’re looking forward to another ultrasound next week. We peek when they cover the basics: heart, lungs, limbs, and hide our eyes when they scan the “private parts.” We want to be surprised. Everything is developing nicely, and the big feet could indicate either a girl or boy – I may have passed on a size 9. At the last ultrasound, however, the baby held up a fist and shook it at the “camera.” The doctor (Tony Dungy’s sister, in fact), laughed and said, “I wish I had that on video – I’d use it at my conferences!” I told Matt that it had to be a boy: a little girl wouldn’t give such a gesture to her parents.

Lately I’m going through the nervous “Oh my God, I’m responsible for this kid for the rest of my life” phase. I ask Matt if he’s at all scared or nervous. He says he just can’t wait to coach soccer. As always, he calms me, always to my rescue.

Last night, when he got home, I waited by the door with my hands on my belly. I said, “Look at this – it grew today.” He swooped me to the couch and said, “You’re beautiful.” I wasn’t fishing, I was just being realistic. We love sitting and staring at my beast of a belly, touching, rubbing and talking to it.

I’ve read just about every book there is to read on the subject, and it seems the baby can recognize my voice soon. I sing to it, and wait until I begin banjo lessons next month!

This weekend we pick up a like-new crib and changing table from one of Matt’s former co-workers. I never thought I’d get so excited about used Pottery Barn Kids. I’m already mapping out a children’s book club at our house once a month, I hate maternity clothes and I pee about 26 times a day. I used to travel the world, damn it!!!!

Matt treated me to Fivebucks on our way in to work this morning: decaf for me. I said, “You’re staring at my pear shape again, aren’t you?” Touching the balloon, he replied, “Only because it’s so cute.” Liar.

Mother's Day

I hear the wishes and congratulations and think, "To whom are they talking?" Me? No way.

Flowers from Matt's parents. Aww. I look in the mirror and ask, "Who is that person?" I tell Matt that it's the dawning of the Age of Hilarious. This belly, egad.

We had brunch at the Canterbury, our 8th meal out with them. I'm going to explode.

Matt and I hit a garage sale the other day and bought a Fisher Price piano for $2.00. I cried on the way back to the car; the moment grabbed me. A year ago, did I picture this, garage sale shopping for toys with him? Maybe, deep down.

At the Hip show the other night I thought, "The end of an era." The guys said, "When we're in town, we'll hire your babysitter."

Matt's hug today, his words. He's so pure of heart.

But I'd like my body back, please. In time, I know. Always patience.

Happy Mother's Day to all of the mothers. Now I know.

Hipster

Yep, the Hip were back in town yesterday - I took the day off to spend with them (ended up spending part of it at the mall, bought Matt a shirt, very fond of gift giving). Matt, again, couldn't see the show because his parents flew in last night. I am very fond of his parents, too, but I told him, "Honey...the Hip...I've had it planned..." and he understood. His mom told me, "Yes, of course, go have fun - we'll see you tomorrow." She and I see eye to eye on just about everything. Good news.

The Hip soundchecked at 4:30 and I invited my dad to come along. He's such a cool guy - dropped everything and met me at the Vogue. What man does this? My dad, that's who. We were the only two at soundcheck, and I said, "Dad, this is the life for me." Chuckling, he replied, "It really is, isn't it, honey?" He knows it's the music I love; I am, after all, his daughter.

After they practiced (a cover - the Hip actually sang a cover last night: Helter Skelter), they all came off stage and introduced themselves to my dad. It was a shining moment; I was very touched. Gord Downie said, "I have to meet this young lady's father..." My dad told them what a good job they did (four songs, hee hee), and they all talked instruments and kids. It was a bit surreal, but great.

Gord S. and I hung out in Ripple, had dinner, and I met up with Jennerator (had one beer) until it was show time. I sat at our reserved table like a good girl for about the first 10 songs....then I headed up to the front where a bouncer tried to remove me. I looked at the band and they nodded to him, so I got to stay in my own private, secured spot for the rest of the show. I'm a very loyal friend, but when I'm at a show I tend to wander off into solo spaces. I commune with loud speakers quite well. The Hip played Long Time Running for me, and this time I almost cried. It holds new meaning: Well worth the wait.

I called/text messaged Matt all night, and it does amaze me how, while standing there in all my glory, I missed him. That independent "I'll do what I want when I want" feeling is gone; however, I still dig the music.

Several friends were at the show, all told me I'm glowing. I am. I had three "backstage" passes, but ended up getting about 7 people back to meet the band. They all said, "You made my life - I owe you," and I just smiled. I actually left before anyone, left them gawking and talking to the band members, and I headed home to real life. But don't get me wrong, I still dig the music.

Today's Notables

I'm easily entertained.
I have Florida sand in my purse, shoes, suitcase, cell phone.
I'm packing and purging and sorting through everything.
I'm looking forward to the blasts from my past Thursday.
I have the only reserved table.
Luck follows me.

Back Home Again In...

Matt and I reluctantly returned home from Naples on Sunday. Saps. We enjoy 24/7 coalescence, and never seem to tire of the hand holding.

Eva cried when we left, which made me feel awful. Matt played soccer and football with her, and threw her around in the ocean and pool for a couple of days. Eva squealed with delight. My mom and sister looked at me and nodded. Girl sign language. I nodded back: I know.

We spotted my mom’s pet alligator, Aloisius, and Matt and I took copious photos, most of which require developing (I still prefer film!). We watched a suicidal egret apparently begging to be eaten, but I screamed "Fly for your life!" and saved him. Phew.

Other photos are displayed at the bottom of the page…

Matt and I got our much-needed time alone at the boutique Bayside Inn. We ate breakfast, lunch and dinner at fancy places, so it’s carrots and apples for me all week. If you're ever in Naples, Cafe Lurcat on the square - it's unbelievable.

We lay on the beach soaking up rays and bottled water. I introduced Matt to a little thing called sunblock. California boy.

Matt’s finest moment was when he fell over the bed one night and landed on the floor. I wake up every time he moves, so I was awake to witness the whole scene. I saw a perfect silhouette of flailing arms and legs; then, nothing. I lay quiet for a moment thinking, “Do I mention it…do I say something…do I ask him where he is?” He stayed on the floor for a few seconds and I finally said, “Honey…you ok?” He got back into bed and said, “I’m great; nothing to see here!” I laughed hard for 3 a.m., so hard I had tears running down my face. He joined me, and I don’t think we ever got back to sleep…

We talked and planned and thanked our lucky stars. The next several months should be unreal…can’t wait.

Adieu The Dying Moose

For a few more weeks, Matt and I will be living in our ethnic little neighborhood...the one without a single restaurant (we do have a Starbucks, or course). We cannot wait to get out of our place, can't wait to never again hear the trash collectors at 3:00 a.m., or the upstairs flush that I've come to call "the dying moose."

What I will miss is the little black man that stands outside the Children's Museum and waves to every single car passing in morning traffic. Has anyone seen him? Adorable!

I was at the bank at IUPUI the other day and another little old black man began chatting me up. We started talking books, and he threw out black authors: Alice Walker, James Baldwin, Langston Hughes. Yes, yes, I know them, I said. The Color Purple was one of my faves, and I told him that if I have a daughter I'm naming her Harper...did he know why? Yes!

Right before the bank teller called me forward, the little man said, "Miss, you have very good diction."

I gave him a wink.

R&R Coming Right Up

Oh, what a beautiful morning…

We had a great weekend. Busy. I was up early both days, 6 o’clock on Sunday. It’s my ritual to cook at least one big breakfast over the weekend, and I’ve mastered Matt’s ham and cheese omelette. The more he's around me, the earlier he emerges from the bedroom. I say, “Why waste life in bed?” and he agrees. Plus, we’re preparing ourselves.

Matt worked yesterday then called and asked if I wanted to visit the grounds of the art museum and soak up sun...my favorite spot! He even packed a picnic. Last night we saw Agatha Christie's The Unexpected Guest at IRT. I love introducing him to my haunts.

Matt saved a little mouse in our basement gym yesterday! My hero. He thought about bringing it home for a pet. : )

This will be a very short week then we’re off to vacation in sunny Florida. We’re visiting my sister/niece/mom in Naples for 2 days then staying at a swanky hotel on the bay, no family allowed. I adore swanky hotels; it’s just this thing with me. I love pretending I’m Eloise (the little girl who lived at the Plaza in NYC) for a few days.

Generally, I hate Florida. I hate the prickly vegetation and the high percentage of morons who live there. Hate the mentality. Hate Corvettes. So many gold chain necklaces, so little time. I loved visiting my sister those 11 years she lived on South Beach, but I never wanted to live there. It’s the perfect place for her, being an artist. She painted many hotels and restaurants on the strip in SOBE, and now Napleites pay exorbitant amounts to have murals painted on their children’s bedroom walls. Amazing.

My mom has an alligator living in her lake: I mean, that’s just weird. It’s so hot in the summer that you have “shine face” no matter how much M*A*C powder you pack, and towels never dry without the fluff cycle. Give me California (and give it to me soon!!).

Matt went to Florida once as a kid, but doesn’t remember it. He’ll like Naples and 5th Avenue…me in bikini. : ) He asked, “Can I surf?” I said, “Sure, baby, if you want to get nibbled by a shark.” No surfing! Just the ocean, books and tiny little drink umbrellas. We’re already riding our own wave…it's a long one.

Impulse Shopping No More

Tantamount to the Tragically Hip ever breaking up (shudder the thought), my favorite Broad Ripple boutique, Turandot, is closing. Pronounced exactly how it looks (people who say "Tur-an-doh" bring chalk screeching across my ears - it's an Italian opera, folks), it is where I've purchased at least 37 necklaces, 12 rings, 72 candles and every wedding or birthday gift I've handed out in 15 years.

Where will I spend my money now?

I actually have an answer for that. Stay tuned.

Le poulet est pourries...

Oh, God.

The first truly gorgeous weekend and I was sick for most of it. Ate some undercooked chicken on Thursday night (that I, um, undercooked) and by 4:00 a.m. I was visiting the bathroom pretty regularly with stomach poisoning. No work Friday, never got out of bed except for violent vomitting, and Matt waited on me hand and foot all weekend.

He kept trying to feed me, went out and bought me the strawberry/banana smoothies I love. After I had one, unfortunately, I sat up...and it came back up...on my sweatpants...which were really Matt's sweatpants. I took them off and told Matt I was heading back to bed. He eyed the pants and said, "Do we have any long tongs?" He kicked them all the way to the laundry room, and when he got there I heard him yell, "Hey - these are my sweats!"

Proof that I can still laugh with martian death flu.

Saturday I felt a little less pitiful and we took a walk on the Monon, then headed to my dad's for a barbeque...chicken! "Please God No!" I said, so they made me something more pleasing. That's about as high maintenance as I get.

Matt said, "Your dad is so philosophical...I could talk to him for hours." My dad gives such great insight on relationships, love, children, marriage. He's a sage with a huge heart, and I adore him.

The quads are getting ready to drive and they're applying for JOBS! The boys have steady girlfriends who hang out at the house all the time. Where did the time go, my babies?!

Tonight, Matt and I are heaing to Bella Vita for dinner, no poultry. We are living life in the slow lane, and it feels good.