So I did it.  Instead of staying home like a responsible pregnant lady, I drove up to New Hampshire yesterday to revisit the Perfect House during its inspection.  The drive up was no problem.  Once we were there, we were startled – but happy – to realize that the owner was at home.  She is a doll.  So sweet, so funny, so much wanting to like us. I think she did – (I hope she did, because I really liked her!)  The inspection took longer than any of us imagined, though – 3 hours! -and I was getting pretty tired by the time we were done.  And then there was the drive home.

Which sucked.

But first, the house stuff.  We didn’t find anything that made us NOT want to buy the house.  A few alarms were raised – a bathroom whose electric didn’t seem to be working, a wonky stove, some serious water damage along a few exterior door sills.  A resident family of squirrels that have gnawed into the attic of the garage and cannot be budged, no matter how many get ‘humane trapped’.  But we think all these ‘problems’ are workable ones, and we know what it is to buy a 150-year-old house – they’re not going to be perfect, even when they’re Perfect.

And so much of the house is even more perfect than I’d remembered.  The kitchen is bigger, and has 4 windows – two on each side, so the breezes are divine.  The living room where we’re probably going to put the DVD player isn’t all that small, the way I’d remembered it.  The sunroom is a thing of glory.  And after measuring the dimensions of her new digs, the seller is willing to throw in a good bit of the furniture/appliances after all.  Which is nice, since we don’t actually have enough furniture to furnish a house this size.

We weren’t able to get a radon reading, because she was trying to be hospitable and had opened every door in the place – door to attics, doors to basements, etc., and apparently the inspector wants “closed in for at least 12 hours” readings for the air-quality radon measurements.  The house is built on granite, so we’re expecting higher readings which is ok.  We won’t be living in the basement at all, and we’ll set up a mitigation system if necessary.  The radon-in-the-well-water reading should be back in a couple of days, and I’m hoping it’s within standard levels, because it would suck to have to try to mitigate THAT.

So she’s going to get an electrician in to deal with the outlet & the stove, and we’re going to send in the rest of our earnest money on Monday, and it’s all going swimmingly and we spent much time on the drive home daydreaming about what we’re going to put where, and which bedroom will belong to Thor, and where the Boy’s grandchildren will sleep when they (even though they don’t yet exist!) come over for holidays.

And then the cramping began.  Like the world’s worst gas pains, or menstrual cramps X 1000.  No real rhyme or reason to them, save that everything hurt, and then it didn’t.  And then it hurt and then it didn’t.  And even though I leaned my seat back, it didn’t really help, Not enough, anyway.

So when we finally got home, I collapsed in a heap on my bed and fell asleep mid-page of a book – something I never do – at about 9pm.  The Boy woke me up at 9am to ask if he could bring me a bagel (and to see if I was all right.  He apparently tried to rouse me a couple of times in the night and I just moaned & rolled away from him.)  And this morning I am fine.  A bit sore around my belly, but nothing dire.  No cramps.  No contractions.  No baby born unexpectedly in the middle of the night.

Which are all good things.

But I don’t think I’ll be pushing it that much again until the baby’s here.  I don’t think I’ll be making the mistake of rationalizing “Well, if all I’m doing is sitting in a car, surely that’s not so different than sitting at home.”

Hah.

Okay, Universe.  I get the message.  I’ll stay put and rest.  I promise.

And maybe pack my hospital bag, too, which would make the Boy very happy.

Pictures of the Perfect house later, if I can summon the energy to post them…

Thank you for the Capstar recommendation on how to deal with fleas.  Frontline simply wasn’t hacking it, and I’ve been spending too much time “primating” – (picking fleas off of Nellie) for my sanity or good health.  It’s funny, but Capstar’s hard to come by, here in NYC where you can get everything.  Everything except flea medication, apparently.  For those of you who are also not in-the-know, it’s an oral medication that can be taken every 24 hours if necessary, but it basically kills all adult fleas on the dog within half an hour or so.

And I got an aerosol spray from the vet instead of the powder I’d been using that seems to be much more effective (and is CERTAINLY easier to deal with).  Hoping to see the end of our flea drama soon.  Fleas suck.  No, really. I woke up at 3am trying to strategize how to best get rid of the critters once & for all, and didn’t settle back in until 5am when the dog came on the bed (I know, it makes no sense), whereupon I slept for another 2 hours.

In other exciting news, once again, I pushed myself way too hard today, walking a few too many miles to try to track down some Capstar.  A vet I’d never been to took pity on my rotundity and called around til he found an emergency clinic with Capstar in stock, and he set it up so I could buy it over the counter from them without bringing in my dog.  Pregnancy benefit.  Waddle around an Italian neighborhood while 8 mos. (and looking 10 mos.) pregnant, and middle-aged men will do anything to try to help.  So far today, I’ve had funeral directors stop traffic for me, I’ve had butchers offer to let me into their meat locker to cool down, and I’ve had ladies pushing strollers offer me water from their own bottles.

As far as productivity goes, besides the flea-related errands & cleaning chores, my paperwork for ‘short term disability’ pay through my union has been mailed off, two co-pays for sonograms & exams are on their way, and my extra Lovenox is, at least, boxed up and READY to be mailed off.  The postman failed to ring the correct bell while trying to deliver Thor’s car seat, but these next few days should be filled with fun deliveries – it’s sort of like Christmas every day from here on out.  The Boy spent much of the morning schlepping items from the basement to the 2nd floor, and items from the 2nd floor down to the basement.  We still need to buy a crib, and get a bassinet & changing table, but I think we’re pretty well set on everything else.  I still have to call my insurance company to see if they have any breast-pump coverage, because that will likely affect which pump I end up buying.  Otherwise?  Pretty much there.  Just waiting for the kid to make his appearance.

29 days til D-date, and all I can say is that I hope he doesn’t make me wait any longer than that – I’m so eager to meet this little man that I can barely sit still.

I’m also looking forward to having functional hands & feet again.  And a waist (eventually).  And ankles.  All things to look forward to.  But mostly?  Mostly I can’t wait to be a mom, instead of a mom-in-waiting.

Now.  Must go buy dinner groceries…

And popsicles.

And dog treats.

And take a nap…

Zzzzzz.

All’s well according to SuperStarOB.  He’s relieved that Thor’s mighty mighty cranium is now measuring more on the big-but-big/average side than on the OMG-you’re-never-going-to-birth-that-from-your-girl-goods end of the scale.

He said everything’s looking great, BP is still lowish, my weight gain is pathetic, but Thor’s is great, so he doesn’t care.  He did an internal – ouch! – and said my cervix is still closed, but that labor can happen fast so that’s not really any sort of prediction.  He said at this point they will not attempt to stop labor if I should go into labor naturally (though naturally, they’d prefer him to bake a while longer).  He reminded me what my cues are for ‘call the doctor now’.  We should get the Strep B results back next week, and I’m to go off Lovenox as of now.

Which is nice.

I asked again about going on Heparin at this point as so many women do, and he told me that he really didn’t like that idea.  Remember I have a veiny, prone-to-hemorrhaging uterine wall?  The women who still die even in top hospitals during childbirth?  A lot of them have veiny uteruses (uteri?) like me.  I think he’s feeling that the risk of a blood clot at this point is minimal – especially since we do lots of sonograms that check umbilical blood flow & it’s always been superb – whereas the risk of medication-assisted uncontrolled bleeding if something bad happens during labor is not-so-minimal.  I never did have the numbers that showed a clotting factor, and if I’d remained under my RE’s care, would likely have been taken off the Lovenox at about 12 weeks.  My OB didn’t want to mess with what was working, but he’s of the opinion that if it was ever needed, it’s certainly not needed now.

This isn’t to say I intend to start subsisting on ice cream or other blood-clotters (in fact, I’ll probably be cooking pretty heavily with garlic for the next few weeks), but I trust my doctor’s reasoning, and I’m happy to follow his orders. He’s been very conservative, very willing to do whatever it takes to keep this pregnancy healthy, and he knows the needles do not bother me.  So I don’t worry that he’s putting me or the baby at risk by choosing to stop the blood thinner now, rather than after delivery, out of some misguided attempt to spare me anything.  He just thinks it’s healthier for Thor and for me to stop it now and not use any blood thinning agents prior to delivery.

That said, I’ve got 20 or so doses of Lovenox left over and I hate the thought of tossing such an expensive medication in the garbage.  If you’re already on 40mg Lovenox (and can prove it to me via a previous-to-today blog post about it!) and your insurance doesn’t cover the meds., I’d be happy to send my leftovers on to someone – you can email me off-blog (ssjett (at) hotmail (dot) com) or leave a note in the comments.  I’ll send it to the first person who responds. Leftover Lovenox has found a home – nevermind!

I bought about half of my “embarrassing drug store list of items” and shall make another run for the remainder when I’m feeling perkier.  I seem to be good for about one big errand a day before my feet hurt and my back aches and I’m sleepy enough to cry.

But my dog came up and slept with us last night after we turned off the A/C.  Which was wonderful, even if I did have phantom itchiness because of it.  I think she’s clear, but my brain insists “Bugs!” which isn’t much fun.  She’s getting back to her old self, went for a walk with us this morning, and came up to greet me when I got home.  I do love my little family so much. And I can’t wait to add to it.

Question for you all – now that I’m no longer worked & therefore doing the housefrau thing for the first time in my life (and really looking forward to it, actually) I’m finding myself in charge of making dinner every night.  The Boy would do it – has actually volunteered to continue doing it indefinitely – but since he hates it and I like it, I’d like to get into the swing of it earlier rather than later.  My question is – I’ve got plenty of yummy menu items for when it’s cold out.  But what, besides gazpacho and salad, do people eat in the summertime?  Honestly, it’s hard thinking of what to cook when nothing sounds good, but surely there are some foods out there that I just haven’t thought about yet. We’re very much a healthy food – protein/starch/vegetables kind of family, and the Boy needs lots of food/calories to maintain his scrawny frame.  Meat is good (for him) Veggies are good (for me).  Nellie would prefer recipes that feature lots and lots of chicken skin, which usually ends up on her plate by the end of the meal.

And I’m SO out of ideas.  I miss Gourmet magazine, which always gave me great ideas.  I think I need to subscribe to Cooking Light, or even Bon Appetit again, to get me through these spells where I am completely uninspired by food.

But in the meantime, would you do me a favor?  Leave a comment with your favorite summertime/warm weather dinner menu (& recipes, if you’re feeling inspired to share with all of us!) The Boy (and eventually Thor) will be delighted to be saved from 4 mos. out of the year when all I feed them is cold soup and salad.

And I think I’m going to have to start planning menus in advance so that 4 o’clock doesn’t roll around again with me having no idea what to put in front of the Boy.

Any ideas?

The good news is that Miss Nellie is going to be fine.  The bad news is that I’m not particularly impressed with the level of care she received while staying at this very pricey doggie spa.  The owner told me when he dropped her off that had they not been on vacation, she would likely have received better care, but still -  since I paid them a hell of a lot of money while I was on MY vacation so that she WOULD receive better care, I’m not impressed with that excuse.

She came home covered with sores of an unknown nature.  They took her to the vet two days ago, but besides putting her on antibiotics, they still aren’t sure what caused them.  I have my suspicions, but suspicions are all they are.

She is 5 documented pounds skinnier than when she left us (We’re talking, like, 20% of her body weight, here).  I know it’s tough to make her eat when she’s sad, but we did ask them to keep food in with her at night and they did not accommodate her in this rather reasonable request.  I am disappointed.

She seems to have a bad case of diarrhea (which she stepped in and then tracked all over the house immediately upon coming home.)

Best of all?  She is utterly and completely infested with fleas.

Now, in the name of full disclosure, I HAD found a flea on her the day we dropped her off.  We assume she picked this up during Petunia’s ill-fated stay with us, since that’s the only time she’s ever spent enough time around another dog to pick up a flea, and puppy breeders have a notoriously hard time eradicating fleas entirely.  However, since I told the kennel about my icky discovery when they picked Nellie up – again, in the interest of full disclosure – and told them I’d pay for a flea dip for her, both pre & post stay so that she wouldn’t infest other dogs, and since she came back literally crawling with critters, I can only assume that they did not dip her either before or after her stay, and really, that level of non-sanitation sort of bothers me – as much for the other dogs that Nellie probably gave fleas to, as for her own sake.

The sores could be from flea bites, but two of them – the two worst – look to be on her hind hocks in the exact same place.  It makes me wonder if she was rubbing them raw on her crate, somehow – like bedsores.  Because the crate possibly wasn’t padded adequately?  I don’t know, but I’m not happy.

And the fleas.  Oh, the fleas.

So I spent her first day back in my maternity bathing suit, bent over sideways, shampooing a very unhappy, skinny dog in the bathtub (a procedure which did nothing for my happiness level either, let me tell you,) and going over her with a flea comb and vacuuming her favorite areas of the house with flea poison. And doing laundry.  Lots and lots of laundry.

Not exactly how I envisioned spending my first day back home.

And now I itch.  And probably will continue to itch until it’s been weeks since I’ve seen a flea.

Yuck.

Italy was wonderful – beyond wonderful – but I am SO glad to be home.

I think that had this trip been planned for even a week later I would not have been able to enjoy it anywhere near as much.  I had a much better sightseeing experience for the first week than the last.  That said, I had a splendid ‘relaxing’ experience during the last part of the trip and the place we stayed was totally conducive to just kicking back and taking it eeeeeaaaaassssyyyyyy.

Which I did.

But the trip back home.  Oh my.  It was pretty brutal.  There’s a lot of difference between a 7 & 1/2 hour trip to Europe & a 9 hour trip back home.  Especially when one’s doing the first as a relatively svelte 34 weeker & the second as a rotund 36 weeker.

Weirdly, I gained no weight while there.  Not complaining.  I was really afraid I was carbo-loading the little guy and he was going to pay me back by being born with a handful of spaghetti carbonara clenched in one chubby fist.

Good news is that although he’s still measuring in the 82nd percentile overall, his head is a bit more in proportion now – at 89% rather than 97%.  More good news is that he passed his first NST with flying colors, and the sonogram tech estimated his weight at a perfectly appropriate 6.5#.  Even better news is that my godawful case of Italian constipation seems to be resolving itself.  Seems my poor innards like the comforts of home over the lap o’luxury.  Actually, I suspect they like the pomegranate juice I’ve been chugging as well as the coffee from D’Amico’s that should be marketed as a regularity aid.  Anyway – too much digression into poop talk for my taste, but it was the one black mark (so to speak) on my trip and it’s a relief to feel happier internally than I have for a while.

Less happy was I with the note I got from the kennel – Nellie was taken to the vet two days ago for an outbreak of little cuts or skin eruptions.  They think she cut herself running in the woods (super common for whippets, who have insanely thin skin) and then since she’s under a lot of stress, developed a bacterial infection.  She’s on antibiotics now, and she did lose at least 5 pounds (from 30#, she’s down to just under 25#)  The kennel owners feel just horrible, and they’ve taken Nellie into their own home instead of keeping her out in the kennel with the others.  “She sure does like down comforters, doesn’t she?”  was the funniest comment.  Um, yeah.  She pretty much owns ours, these days.  We’re leaving to pick her up in about an hour and I’m as excited to see her as you can imagine.  I have missed that dog something terrible, photos via the internet notwithstanding.

Other exciting news, I got to speak with my folks last night, which was great, though I’m not sure I held up my end of the conversation, being nearly comatose with exhaustion.  I can’t wait to see them in early October, and my mom told me she’d bring some of my baby books for Thor – I didn’t even know she’d saved any of them, so I’m just giddy with happiness.  Realize that a large number of my baby-raising fantasies have to do with me reading quietly to Thor.  This is likely because being read to – and then reading to myself – was such a HUGE part of my childhood, and forms such a large part of my happy baby memories, but it tickles me to think I’ll be reading books to him that I was read to as a little girl.

Can’t.  Wait.

Not a whole lot else going on.  No, that’s not true.  As my first day of SAHM-ing, I have scads of plans – most of which probably won’t get done today, tomorrow, or even this week.  (But I can plan, and oh boy, it’s good to make lists!)

• finish pre-registering at the hospital
• file for short-term disability through my union
• order a carseat online
• clean up my desk/office space!
• finish the baby sampler I started a couple of years ago – it’s just waiting for his name & birthdate.  Can’t fill in the birthday yet, obviously, but his name is good to go…
• finish a baby sweater I started then forgot about.
• cook dinner for my darling husband
• do another couple of loads of laundry, including, perhaps, a load of baby things!
• watch the Boy finish moving his office items out of what will be our bedroom.
• direct him in moving things from our old bedroom to our new bedroom
• go buy a crib & changing table & possibly dresser for nursery.
• assemble same, since we’ll likely be buying at IKEA.
• buy wall decals for nursery & stick ‘em up.
• buy these wonderful felted bird rattles I saw on Etsy so that I can turn them into a crib mobile that will be disassemble-able in a few months whereupon Thor can gum them into shapelessness.
• take a belly photograph, since I vaguely remember promising my mother last night that I would do so.  She is a cruel, cruel woman…
• pack my hospital bag (which will involve going to a drug store for items I’ve never before bought – Depends, hemorrhoid wipes, etc.)
• download all my Italy photos and label/PS Elements them into webbable photos

Wow.  Quite the list.  And I didn’t even have to think about these items.  There will be many more to come over the next couple of weeks, I’m sure.  Enough to feel overwhelming and exhausting, I’m sure.  But for the moment?  For right now, I’m feeling giddy that I can concentrate on these things and not have to try to squeeze them in to my previous 2.5 free hours per day once work/commute was done.  Woohoo for free time!

The gelato was good.

Already saw the Duomo, which is intense and so I didn’t go back for another look.  I know I should get more excited about churches, but most of them scare me a little, and even though I’m not religious, I find the church-as-museum thing a little disturbing.  Either it’s a museum or it’s a place of worship – I have a hard time wrapping my brain around a place that is used for both.

I did not climb the tower.  9Did you really think I would?)  In fact, I barely managed to climb the steep stone ramps out of the campo.  What’s worse than climbing stairs?  Possibly climbing steep stone ramps.  I think I’ve officially taken my last field trip.  Thor’s been jumping around like crazy all morning, which, unless I’m sitting down, is sort of hard to distinguish from cramps.  Which makes me nervous.  Which makes me think the rest of my trip is going to be taking place on the couch.

Today Siena is preparing for the Pallio on Monday, a wildly popular race where 17 representatives of the 17 districts (contrade) of Siena race 17 horses in a circle around the gigantic central circle (campo) filled with spectators.  This means a gazillion more tourists than usual, on an already hot day – I was there for maybe 2 hours & got totally exhausted. And my foot hurts.  And my back aches (though not, I think in a persistent, imminent labor sort of way.  Just a tired way.)

The gelato wasn’t THAT good, but it was fun just wandering around with my husband, who’s been busy being ‘good daddy’ to his girls on many of our city-trips, so I haven’t been able to just hang out with him and window shop and laugh at the other tourists and enjoy the stuffed boars wearing spectacles in front of the salumeris.  He’s an awful lot of fun to be around, even when I’m not at my best.

Found gifts for my niece & nephew.

Had an interesting talk with middle SD all the way to Siena about her work plans next year when she’ll be a first-year associate.  Had an interesting talk with our driver all the way back about building with brick – old Italian bricks are apparently stronger than new ones: who knew? – and migrant worker issues, and chickens, and the words in Italian/English for ‘scarecrows’ and ‘pergolas’ and ‘propane tanks’. Like everyone else here, he takes his garden very seriously, so he was fun to talk with.

When I got back home the internet was up & running again, so I was able to see Nellie looking woebegone in some photos and regal in others.  I think she’s fine, but I’m REALLY looking forward to having my dog back.

And now?  Now I’m going to sleep until the rest of the party – including the Boy – comes home in another few hours.

— Sprogblogger, signing off before the first of her afternoon naps…

Before I left for Italy, my doctor made me run down all the ‘emergency’ signals I should be aware of.  You know, persistent backache, BH contractions that won’t go away or intensify, bloody show, blood of any kind coming from my girl goods, gush of fluid from same, period-type pains, etc.  I’m a good student & I read up on all the signs of preterm labor so that if it should happen, I’d be calm and able to function well enough to get myself to some help if need be.

So, everyone’s on their day-trip to Firenze except for me, since I stayed home to take it easy on the kid & myself.  A nice quiet day of embroidering and admiring my luxurious surroundings, and then ’round about 4pm I went into my bedroom to lie down and listen to my Hypnobabies tape o’ the day, and relaxed myself so very deeply that I fell asleep – not an uncommon occurrence these days.  When I roused myself, I got up to pee (also not an uncommon occurrence these days) and as I walked around the bed, I straightened the bedcovers.

And then, since everything here is a posh, Martha-Stewart-esque white, I saw the small pool of blood I’d been lying in

It took me a few minutes of shakily rinsing out bedclothes before I worked up the courage to sit on that toilet seat and examine my underwear.  The whole time I’m scrubbing, I’m thinking, ‘this isn’t fair!  I’ve been really good about not doing too much – I stayed home from Florence fer heaven’s sake! – and I haven’t felt so much as a cramp!’  But then the bedclothes were clean and hanging over the shower bar, and there was nothing left to do but call my doc in NYC and figure out if it made more sense to fly home NOW or to just get to an Italian hospital NOW.

Except there was no blood in my underwear.  Nothing.  Niente.

So then I started looking – nosebleed?  I’ve had a few of those, and it’s dry here today.  Nope.  A mosquito bite that I scratched too hard?  Not that I could find.  Finally, it occurred to me to lift up my navy blue shirt and check my Lovenox injection sites.

Bingo.

For whatever reason, my injection site this morning bled a lot 9 hours later when I toppled over on that side during the Hypnobabies CD.  I’ve been getting more and more bruised (August 18 can’t come soon enough for me!  No more Lovenox!  WOOHOO!)  And because my shirt was so dark, and because my sides are simply bruised to hell, it didn’t even occur to me to connect the soreness with the blood.

I feel like a dope.  A very lucky dope.

Yay for bandaids, yay for having stayed home from Florence for a reason, and yay for the false part of ‘false alarm.’

I never thought I’d be a stepmother.  I mean, really – I say the word out loud and my mind will revert to Cinderella and the Evils.

But then I fell in love with a man who already had a family – and I fell in love with how much and how well he loved them, and then I fell in love with my own imaginings about how much he’d love our child, too.  And it’s six or so years later and I’m still in love with him, and in love with the love he has for his daughters, and I can’t wait to parent our child with him.

But still, every so often it occurs to me “I’m a stepmother”  And then the shivers go down my spine and I start looking around for chores to force them to do, or balls to forbid them from attending.

No, seriously, it hasn’t come up too much, mostly because two of my stepdaughters were grown and (almost) out of the house before I came on the scene.  But the youngest only went away to college last year.  There’s no doubt that her parents’ divorce took the biggest toll on her – she was still in high school when they split up and even when I moved in with him.  She’s had it rough, and things have been rocky between her & her dad (& her mom, for that matter) for a while now – she & her dad are too much alike to get along easily.  However, she & I have enjoyed a cautious appreciation of each other for quite a while now – mostly because I refuse to be stepmothery in any way – she’s not my child, she’s a woman whose father is the man I love, and she already has a very involved mother.  The set-up works for us, and keeps things from getting tense, but also keeps things from ever getting intimate.  We are not close, but we are friendly.  Given how fraught some of the last few years have been with her older sisters, friendly beats out fraught any day of the week as far as I’m concerned.

But for all that, I’ve always considered her very young for her age.  She’s a girl whose sisters are 5 & 7 years older, and as far as I can tell, she’s spent her life alternating between trying to catch up to them, and reveling in being the baby.  Although it’s pissed me off that the older girls have been so outspokenly horrible about Thor’s impending arrival, I’ve rather been expecting her to throw a tantrum, to express her terror at having to share even more of the available attention – and I figured it’d be easier to take when SHE did it, because at least she’d have the excuse of being the youngest, and of being young for her age besides.  So I’ve been waiting for her to pitch a fit about not being the baby any longer, about giving up her place-of-honor as the youngest child.  I’ve been waiting for her to become unbearable about it.  I’ve been waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

Instead, she’s weighing in on a name at this epic family vacation – unasked, even.  She’s telling her cousins how excited she is about Thor’s upcoming arrival, how much she’s looking forward to having a baby in the house.  She’s asking questions about his due date, and about what it’ll be like raising a child in NH.  She is, in fact, behaving rather like an adult – a normal, happy, well-adjusted adult who understands that whatever problems or issues you have with the fact that you have a stepmother, having a new brother is all-good.

And I couldn’t be more delighted.

I’m sure once the baby is here, that his older half-sisters will fall in love with him, too.  They’re baby-mad already, and having a little critter they can play with and cuddle and hand back when he starts to fuss will likely be nearly irresistible to them, no matter how sullenly they refuse to acknowledge him right now.  But the youngest is setting the standard for good behavior, and I’m happier than I can say that at least one of Thor’s big sisters is looking forward to meeting him, and isn’t afraid of how that anticipation will make her look to her mother or her sisters or to her own sense of self-importance.

I’m glad that she’s accepted me and the baby I’m having with her father as a part of her life, a part of her family; people to be welcomed, not feared.

I’m feeling awfully lucky this evening to be her stepmother, and only wish I could claim a bit of the credit for the lovely young woman she’s turning out to be.  And I can’t wait for Thor to meet her, because I have a feeling he’s going to adore his big sister – the first time she’ll ever BE a big sister.  And I have a feeling she’s going to adore him right back.  And how wonderful is that?

A long day for the pregnant lady, what with going to three towns and then sitting through an enormous meal right before bed.  Yes, I’m typing this while I try to digest enough food that lying down won’t be actively dangerous. It’s the most difficult thing I’ve done all day, staying awake when I’d rather be asleep and snoring.

Yes, My life really is that wonderful these days.

Happy to report that the Boy thoroughly regrets hurting my feelings and swears he’s delighted by how healthy this baby and I am, and even went so far as to insist that we get gelato while in Siena.  I agreed rather regally, I thought.  The gelato was delicious, the apology accepted, and I have agreed to forget the whole thing.

So long as it never happens again.

Today was a day of thunderstorms and walled cities.  You know what happens in a hilltop city made of stone when the heavens open and an unseasonable thunderstorm hits, complete with hail and BIG rain?  Everything stops.  People duck into overhangs, or simply stand around getting wet – I did a bit of both.  The water runs down the stone streets like a flood, like a small river.  The temperature plummets.  First time I’ve been cool since April, I think.  It was lovely.  And it kept the temperatures low enough that Cranky Uterus only started contracting once during the long, busy day.  Despite stairs and steep hills, despite not getting quite enough water.  Despite being so very tired by the end of the day that I just wanted to come back here and sleep (which I did.  Pre-dinner naps are great!)

Tomorrow is another sit-on-the-couch and embroider day, while the kiddies go to a beach somewhere.  I may swim, if it gets warm.  Otherwise?  I may just sit still, occasionally toppling over to take a quick nap or three.

My mother-in-law has asked me if she can buy me a stroller.  I’ve warned her that I want a really nice stroller, and she’s fine with that, but I’m not sure she understands HOW nice a stroller I’ve set my heart on.  (Bugaboo Bee 2010)  Since she’ll have me buy it & “repay” me, perhaps I simply won’t tell her quite the whole price.  Allow her to spend what a normal person would consider a normal price for a stroller, and cover the rest myself?  Hmmm.  Haven’t yet decided, but it’s a very sweet offer, and I’m truly touched by how sincerely the Boy’s whole family is looking forward to welcoming little Thor into their lives.

Speaking of the baby, he had a few nights where he was flipping and distending one side or the other of my belly 2 or 3 inches past the other side for minutes at a time.  I truly felt as if something with fangs was going to burst out at any moment.  He’s been quieter today, but then again, I’ve been more active today, so perhaps I lulled him to sleep, or perhaps he’s just finally turned head-down and lodged there.  It’s hard to believe we’ve been away a week already.

I finally got some photos of Nellie dog that don’t look like she’s being tortured as soon as the camera moves away from her.  She’s hanging out with other dogs, looking reasonably happy.  Of course, she also looks positively skeletal.  Poor thing.  She needs to be here eating Amadea’s cooking with me.  This place’d fatten her up if anything could.

So, one more week of bliss ahead of me, I discovered an absolute newfound love of these hilltop, walled cities, indulged in much laughter, endured only a few BH contractions, consumed more good food than any single (or single.5) person should consume in one day, am gulping in the smell of lavender and rosemary strong in my nose from all the rain, listening to crickets singing right outside the window, hearing a few dogs barking, imagining the stars overhead (because I’m too lazy to go outside and actually look at them), appreciating my soft bed awaiting.  And knowing that tomorrow marks the start of week 35.  (Is that correct?  42 days left = 6 weeks = 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40 – holy crap!)

I think it was a very good day indeed.

And even if you’re not in Italy, I hope you all are having wonderful days as well – thank you for the pep talks last night & this morning.  You’re right.  I’m totally going swimming tomorrow if the mood strikes me.  Ta hell with anyone else.  (Besides, my sisters-in-law know what to say – “You hardly look pregnant at all!” alternating with “You’ve never looked better.  You’re honestly glowing!”  Love these women.)

My father-in-law – who is a self-confessed troublemaker – told me at dinner that my husband was making jokes about my largeness.

Specifically about my largeness in my swim suit which he’s never even seen and which is as cute (and believe me, I AM using that term loosely) as a swimsuit made to cover a belly the size of a watermelon can be.

I had to take the Boy aside and explain that while I am allowed to make disparaging remarks about my current size, he is not allowed to do so – especially when I am not right next to him where I can smack him.

Since he comes from a skinny family, and since I am decidedly not skinny, not even in a non-pregnant/non-IVFing state, I explained to him that my weight would likely always be a sensitive issue and that he should just back off of any current or future jokes he might be tempted to try out regarding my size. Realize, this is a family that jokes about all sorts of subjects I’d consider utterly taboo, and I’ve tried really hard to let things roll off my back, because I know they’re not meant in a mean way.

But still.  Laughing with one’s father about the shape of one’s wife and the mother of one’s unborn child is not ok.  Not right now, probably not ever.

I think he got the message, since he truly didn’t mean to hurt my feelings, but damn, all my resolve to go swimming tomorrow with witnesses?  Just went out the window.

(where I cannot follow.  because I am too large to fit through the casement.)