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.