I know all you really care about is da baby... If his arrival,
or lack thereof, is revealing anything at all about his character, we
can assume that he's as stubborn as his big sister.
Speaking of Mini-Pear, this morning she was invited to join the Black Belt Club at her karate dojo! She's spent a lot of time and energy working towards this. Her dad and I were watching the end of class through the window and watched her get called up in front of the class and presented with what looked like a certificate. As soon as we saw the look on her face, we knew what must have happened. She couldn't stop smiling all day. We're really proud and excited for her. She's made such an effort. The skills she needs don't necessarily come naturally to her, but she's very determined, has been working extra hard, and talks often about wanting to work all the way up to her black belt. It's great to see her determination and effort recognized by her Senseis.
*****
They both look like they are waiting so patiently. The poor dog already knows who's in charge. How will she feel when she's once again demoted in the pecking order?
I am trying to be patient. Warm baths help. Pretending I'm not pregnant and just getting on with things? Sort of helps, but only when I'm sitting on my big exercise ball. Otherwise, there is no pretending anything. Sleeping whenever I can helps, because despite what the songs says, apparently night time is not always the right time. Mr. Pear and Mini-Pear are most understanding of my propensity towards narcolepsy at the moment. They were even most understanding of my completely embarrassing temper tantrum* yesterday afternoon.
At any rate, other than throwing temper tantrums, what did we do all weekend? Yesterday we took the dog down to the dog beach. No need for leashes during the off-season. I perched on a sunny rock and took in the scenery. The water was warm enough for Mini-Pear to get all the way in. As usual, Tanky avoided the water as if it were molten lava or corrosive battery acid.
After karate this morning, we decided to brave Costco. We were running low on pretty much everything, but now the fridge, kitchen cupboards and pantry are loaded. I had to take the vodka and the ice cubes out of the freezer in order to make it all fit. The horror.
Later on Mini-Pear and I curled up on the bed with The Long Winter from the Little House Series. We're at about the fifth blizzard or so. There's no flour and no kerosene and the men's antelope hunt just failed miserably. Pa just told Ma and the girls that the train won't be coming after all. I felt a little guilty about our groaning shelves.
Mr. Pear came home with a freshly washed dog and took Mini-Pear for a swim. I can't be bothered to wriggle into things like bathing suits, so I opted for a bath at home instead. Then I tried to make a little more room in the fridge by making a salad and prepping food for the grill. I was supposed to marinate some chicken and after taking one look at the slimey breasts decided I was not up for job. Perhaps this means my pregnancy induced carnivorism is over? Perhaps this means my pregnancy is soon to be over? I dunno, after Mr. Pear prepped and grilled it, I certainly didn't have any trouble eating it, but I did prefer my potatoes. I quartered them, liberally doused them in olive oil, sea salt, pepper and fresh rosemary and then twisted them into a little tin foil packet to chuck on the grill. They were so soft on the inside and nicely browned on the outside...drool. I thought I was making enough to snack on for days. There were leftovers, but only because it would have been a poor display of humanity to eat all of them in one sitting.
* OMG. It was so awful I inadvertently ended up with a new catch phrase, "No more fruit!" And seriously, what did that all mean? Yes I was hungry and no, I wasn't in the mood for the suggested fruit, but really, what did I hope to gain by repeatedly howling "No more fruit!" and stomping off to dramatically pull the curtains shut in the bedroom.
