I haven't done one of these for awhile, so I thought it was about time.
Outside my window: I can see the new Radiant crabapple Mike planted in our front yard to replace this one (and by the way, I still hate gardening). The tree is on the cusp of bursting out in pink spring song. The dandelions, on the other hand, have already burst forth as bold as Athena burst fully formed from Zeus' head. Mike decided to dub our new tree "Fertilitree" in honor of our baby.
I am thinking: Thoughts.
From the kitchen: Buckets and buckets of food. I cannot stay full. Today by 4, I've already eaten: a large serving of oatmeal generously festooned with raisins and brown sugar, 3 glasses of chocolate milk, a whole grapefruit, a generous chicken/almond/cranberry salad sandwich, roughly 4,000 almonds, a tortilla generously festooned with mozzarella and provolone, and I'm still going and it's not even dinner. I'm still waking up hungry in the night. I'm a ravenous beast.
I am wearing: Maternity jeans. These things rock! Why has no one told me about them before? It's like a mullet: business on the bottom, party on the top. Basically they look like innocent skinny girl jeans that at the hip bone balloon into stretchy material that allows one to eat roughly 4,000 almonds. They're so comfy, I plan to wear them the rest of my life and even start a trendy new line of "Paternity Jeans" for men who want comfort too.
I am reading: Just finished the Number 1 Ladies Detective Agency and the Jungle Book. Today, because I'm feeling rather tired and have spent a goodly amount of time in bed, I picked up Peter Kreeft's essays on moral relativism and a collection of Agatha Christie's Miss Marple short stories. (It didn't take that long for me to move from Kreeft to Christie.)
I am hoping: For more yummy food. For firmer thighs as I do my prenatal workout video. For May 9th to get here quickly so I can start considering baby names in earnest.
I am hearing: Nothing. I love silence. It's always silent here.
I am creating: Nothing. Or, I suppose you could say a baby, if you count lying in bed all day like a lump of lazy flesh "creating."
One of my favorite things: Words. Like "Fertilitree." Isn't it catchy? I've been saying it over and over in my head. Because it's silent here. I have to amuse myself somehow.
A few plans for the rest of the week: Tomorrow I hope to wrangle Mike into replacing our mulch (that blew far, far away months, months ago on this windy blasted mountain) with rock. Now I understand why we were the only house on the block with mulch. Mike will be continuing to create the baby room while I "create" the baby lying here pretending to read deep philosophical essays while really just reading mystery stories.(I can't paint in my delicate state and I don't possess the technical skills for the saw work, so Mike gets to create the baby room all by himself.)
A picture thought for the day: Me at 15 weeks. Today I'm 16, but I still look the same. Maybe I don't look big to you, but I look awfully funny to me. I look like I'm standing like a sway-backed mule, but I am standing straight, I swear. I'm eager for my belly to pop out a little more purely for vanity: I'm at that stage where I simply look like I have a thick waist and shirts cling to my stomach unnaturally. As it turns out, pregnancy really brings out the vanity in me.