What am I wishing for? Labor!
In the meantime, I’m trying to keep busy by enjoying the beginning of October: walking, any and all fall fairs and festivals, eating tons of healthy and unhealthy foods (I woke up at 5 a.m. this morning craving layer cakes) and hanging out with a great conversational partner.
We hit up a nearby playground that’s next to a small dog run in our town after the gym when the weather’s nice and our hound mutt is antsy.
He runs around for an hour and is tired for two days. Apparently doggie middle age is no joke for coonhounds. They go from super athlete in their first couple of years to couch potatoes at five years old.
Sometimes dead hydrangeas can just be another color option. These are thanks to my neighbor across the street who has the world’s best blooming hydrangea bushes (he doesn’t mind!).
Turning three seems to have spurred: language development, crankiness, a teenaged bad attitude at times, and the ability to tell super long, elaborate stories.
On Saturday we went bowling, because it was raining and gross out, and we’ve run out of plans. My calendar has been empty since last week, since I was all BABY COMING! Whoops. It was fun. I was able to almost beat my husband since I used the bumpers as tangents like I was playing pool.
I’m not that great at bowling (he still beat me, playing legitimately).
Anna loved it. She cast spells on her balls.
I am good at smuggling bowling balls out of the alley, though.
I can’t wait until I can wear normal clothes again. Seriously, I’m down to two pairs of pants, one pair of yoga pants and like a handful of tank tops.
On Sunday, a beautiful warm fall day with some crispness in the air, we went pumpkin picking (and hay riding). That night was a full moon, but no baby came.
The farm had a giant swing from a huge old tree. We all Tarzan-ed and Jane-d out (No baby was produced).
It was beautiful. Then it rained and we went to a nearby cute town for tremendous burgers and fries with my mom, sister and sister’s boyfriend.
The world’s saddest carnival was happening, but Grandma bought Anna two rounds on the car ride.
I have a big kid now, who can find her own backpack spot, and who brings a lunch two days a week for after preschool “Lunch Bunch” hour.
She won’t quite let me dress her the way I want to. Every piece of clothing is a negotiation. She wants to wear princess dresses, shoes and accessories. Her teachers want the kids to wear rubber soled shoes for gym and playground time. I’m on a constant lookout for anything both over the top feminine pink Disney princess-splosion and sensible at the same time.
When my husband reads her Cinderella, or Beauty and the Beast, or The Little Mermaid, he tries to change lines and insert some feminist ideas. “The Prince loved Cinderella because she was so smart and kind.”
“That’s not how it goes!” Anna knows all the words, so you can’t trick her. But how awesome is my husband?
I’m trying to assume that the princess mania phase is a phase she needs to go through to get to the other side…like a training period of trying on female-ness from which she will emerge on the other side with a balanced idea of gender.
Or maybe she will be a pretty, pretty princess clotheshorse for life. Worse things have happened, especially since she also like to get wild, crazy, sporty and silly. Most of her best friends at school are boys. Let’s see what happens when she has a brother to deal with, for life.
Oh, and I’m painting a table for the nursery. It’s not done because it’s started raining and being disgustingly humid here. So far it’s very…blue! Let’s see if this table gets done before the baby does (please baby please baby please).