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.