These are days to remember

This week has been big on firsts in our family. Just this morning, for example, Clara had her first day of Pre-Kindergarten for this year. She has been waiting for this day to arrive for what has felt like an interminably long time, and I think we were all a bit relieved that the big moment was finally here.

In preparation for the big day, I told Clara we could have a special dinner on Tuesday night, and that she could pick any dinner she wanted. Her choice? Turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, and broccoli, with chocolate cupcakes with sprinkles for dessert. Why? "Because turkey is what you should always eat for special occasions." In my current state, I thought the dinner was not as fun or fancy as I wanted it to be, but she was over the moon about it and kept saying, "This is the best dinner I ever had!!" After dinner she sat so peacefully and reverently while Jeremy gave her a father's blessing, which is a special blessing of comfort and counsel for the upcoming year. It was a special time for our family.

Clara's school is a laboratory school at the university, and she is really thrilled to be a big "university student." She's particularly excited that Jeremy will get to "stroll her to school" every morning before heading off to work. I am particularly excited that we live less than a mile from campus, which means that Jeremy can stroll her to school every morning! Her school starts at 7:30, and once the baby comes I think it'll be much better for me to only have to pick her up at 11:00.

One concern Jeremy and I had is that Clara would take to waking up ridiculously early for school. She has a keen sense of the sunrise, and every time I tell her she should try to sleep in a bit she says, "It's important for us to rise with the sun." I actually disagree. I think it's important for us to rise in the general vicinity of the sun, but I like to give the sun at least a little head start. Not Clara. On Monday, for example, she popped out of bed around 6:00 a.m. so she could be ready for her Pre-K open house which, as it happens, started at 5:00 p.m.

This morning, though, I had to wake her up at 6:45. When I gently rubbed her back and told her it was time to get ready for school, she sat straight up in bed, put both hands to her cheeks, and sleepily giggled and said, "Oh, I'm so excited!" She got dressed, had a healthful bowl of "honey oaties," as we call them, and put a few finishing touches on her back-to-school readiness, which consisted primarily of fitting a box of kleenex into her bag that I'd foolishly thought we'd just carry into school. Silly Mommer.



We woke Jonathan just in time to get dressed and head out the door, but he was excited for Clara's new adventure and didn't want to leave her side. They are a sweet pair. In all of the pictures we took of her this morning, he was never far away.



As we left Clara in the classroom and headed out to the car, I was surprised to find myself a little misty. I've been really excited for her to start school and to have a few hours away from home every morning, but when it comes right down to it she's still my little girl. I'll miss her!

Clara quite enjoyed her morning away from home, although she did tell me that "the girl in the white shirt and the piggies said we weren't buddies." Goodness. Clara has a very sincere love for everyone, and it really hurts her feelings when that love isn't instantly reciprocated. But I guess these are the kinds of potentially good lessons to be learned from being social. We talked about how important it is to be kind to everyone. I'm confident she'll continue to reach out to everyone around her!

And that's the story of Clara! Three and a half hours a day can really make a girl grow up quickly. After school we were doing our daily reading lesson, and I tried to get her to write "ant." Instead of pouting or refusing, she just handed me a pencil and said, "I'll let you do the honors, Mom." That's my girl.

Before I close, I want to be sure to give Jeremy a little shout-out for his first day of school on Monday. He even humored me when I told him to wake me up before he left on Monday so I could take his picture on the porch. He's a good sport. Here's to life on the tenure track and all the stress, fun and general hullabaloo that entails. Huzzah!

Out, damn'd spot! out I say!

I have to hand it to Lady Macbeth for really hitting the nail on the head with that line. Because, I will admit this, I have been rehearsing that line over and over in my head for the last three days as I have done battle between light colored carpet and the new bane of my existence:


Actually, in all fairness to the august Kool-Aid Man, the real culprit in this tale is Crystal Light. Or, to be more accurate, the Wal-mart version of Crystal Light. Or, to be more accurate still (the devil is in the details), the real culprit is the sinister Red 40:


(I'll admit it doesn't really look that sinister as a chemical formula. It looked much worse on the carpet, but I was too upset to take a picture.)

Here's how it all went down:

On Thursday night, after the kids were in bed, Jeremy poured himself a cup of very red Crystal Light and set it on the coffee table in our living room. He proceeded to not drink the Crystal Light for over an hour. At about 10:00, after ordering Jonathan some birthday presents online, I put my laptop onto the coffee table, which in turn spilled the full cup of Crystal Light on the floor.

So, so horrible.

After some internet research (seriously, how did anyone do anything before the internet?) I stayed up until 2:30 in the morning steaming the stain out of the carpet. The next day--and I swear I am not making this up--I spent another four hours doing the same thing. Today I wrapped things up (which is code for "gave up") in another hour. So, all told, I spent nine and a half HOURS of my life getting rid of that stain.

Good news, though: the stain is almost entirely gone, just a bit of very pale pink to annoy me for the rest of my days (fortunately, the stain is unobtrusively located in the middle of the living room; what a relief).

The less good news is that Jeremy and I cannot agree on who is to blame in this sordid ordeal. Please help me out by passing judgment (on Jeremy). I will not be offended if you think it's my fault (other than that it's so very clearly Jeremy's fault). Really, tell me: who's to blame?

Waiting...

Now that I'm less than a month away from delivering our latest offspring, I thought I should post a recent photograph for my near and dear readers:


BAM!

I actually don't think the picture turned out too bad at all! I thought about posting a close-up shot of my swollen man-hands or cankles, but in the end I took a few pointers from my Syracuse friend Sami about taking a flattering picture and just went with it (I don't remember all the details, but the secret was something about the angle of the chin and the rump--like, pretend you have a chin and do not have a rump).

But back to being a bit largey and uncomfortable: You've all seen Wall-E, right? You know how the humans are so atrophied from lack of exercise and overeating that they can barely move? Well, that's just how I feel. I know every pregnant woman feels like that toward the end, but that doesn't really make it any more pleasant.

One thing about Missouri in the summer that makes pregnancy more challenging is that it's soooooo hot. And also humid. This means that even the simplest tasks seem more onerous. And the humidity has made me swell up like a puffy human balloon, which is both unsightly and unpleasant. Since I have two small kiddles, I spend a lot of time on the floor playing. And sometimes after playing I feel so stiff and swollen that I just remain there until someone happens by to heft me up. This has actually gone on for days, with everyone in the house wondering why I'm still sitting on the floor.

I kid, naturally.

Overall, though, I will say that I've been surprisingly un-stressed about this baby. This is quite possibly because every other area of our lives right now still feels so unsettled or stressful that I am simply incapable--physically, emotionally, and mentally--of doing my normal pregnancy stress. Sure, I worry about the outcome of this pregnancy, but I'm cautiously optimistic. I really hope everything goes well. I have even allowed myself to periodically feel excited about having a baby--something I haven't been very good at since we lost Sam. (Like it's any easier to have something go wrong if you convince yourself something might go wrong. Oy.) But here's to three more healthy weeks, a safe delivery, and a wonderful new addition to the fam.