knitting at 39 weeks

Almost 39 weeks pregnant now, and I am more pregnant than I have ever been.  It doesn’t seem surprising to me though really, as I have felt a bit content lately, and always thought I would go the “distance” so to speak, this time around. With the weather turned down, just a bit, and the nights cool enough for covers, my spirits and energy have returned. In fact, I am taking advantage of the extra time I have to myself, and I have been waking up very early, much before everyone else for weeks now. A walk in the mist, a few rows of knitting, just me and my coffee and some wool, or a quick batch of bread have been my pleasure.  I know these days will soon meld into sleepy mornings, and not much “extra” will be accomplished, but for now I am taking advantage. Full advantage.


These are both baby surprise sweaters, neither too girly nor masculine (in my opinion), and neither even close to a newborn size (we are having a summer baby after all). This is the perfect mindless sweater pattern if you ask me. I have knitted over a dozen, and I am never, ever disappointed.  I am promising myself to move on though for there are other limbs to cover on my three sweet children when the weather turns gray.

Here is to another morning to myself, one in which I started blueberry butter and walked in the garden with a cup of percolated coffee while plucking bolted lettuce for all our hens (That is right… NO MORE ROOSTERS! Whew… glad that is over with).  Because truth be told when noon time hits this energy of mine sputters out and I am grateful for two boys who like to play together outdoors, giving me much some much-needed rest.

PS- For all my friends and family please, please don’t ask me if I have had the baby yet.  It is driving me insane.  Sorry if this sounds rude of me to say, it very well might be.



mona lisa

Something changed over the last week.  I went from a patiently waiting, almost happily full of baby pregnant woman, to a ticking time bomb.  My attitude was starting to decline, the heat was really bothering me, I got a nasty case of poison ivy, none of my clothes seemed to cover my entirety, and I had (have) some sporadic sciatica pain that was absolutely crippling causing me to hobble until noon everyday or anytime I had to sit in the car for any length of time.  You see, the problem is that I was two weeks early with both my boys.  And now, with that day approaching, and a super moon in the mother sign behind us, I have started the waiting game.  Oh yes, it has begun.  But, we all know this is silly and illogical and well, detrimental to myself and anyone who crosses my path.  When asked when I am due, I simply mutter soon.  It feels a bit rude and rash, but I can’t help myself.

Then my parents came to visit.  We gardened and cleaned and the boys were so happily entertained, digging holes and adventuring deep in the woods.  Meals were cooked for me and cleaned up afterwards too.  There was a lot of laughing, and a lot of commiserating, and I felt oh so much better.  Then they left, and I tried to hold my chin up.  But luckily it started to droop only in time for more family, sweet dear missed family that lives much too far away, to remind me of what it is I am waiting for.

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These sweet children played around all day yesterday with an ease I didn’t know existed in cousins.  The grown folks cared for me so gently, I swear I felt like a child myself.  A much-needed reaffirmation that this baby will enter the world so loved already, and that of course, of course I can hold out for that.  It is some what of a gift to allow this babe to choose his or her birthday and I am rejuvenated enough now to do this, with at minimal a mona lisa smile on my face.  I can manage that I think…

sunday suppers

Supper has been a defining factor in our day since the birth of our first son.  The thought behind it, the planning, the timing it all has to coordinate.  And factor in the weather, the days activity and the energy level (of both the cook and the patron), and sometimes it is more thrown together than I would like to admit.  But it turns out those meals made when I think I having nothing left in the cupboard, those times when I can’t possibly muster up the energy to make it to the grocery, those have turned out to be some of my favorites.  Perhaps it is a sense of pride of the ingenuity and frugality of such a thing that make me brush my shoulders off, but mostly it ends up tasting really nice.  Garlic, good olive oil and crusty stale bread can go a long way and in a lot of directions.  Its fun to search around in the back of the fridge for the half a leek you forgot about (they seem to last forever!), the everlasting chunk of parmesan and the jar of dilly beans from god knows when (they get better with age I tell you).  To experiment and see what happens is where the true joy of cooking lies for me.  I am still not so far away from the woes of the first trimester where the smell of an onion, in a bag, in a cupboard, was enough to tie my stomach in knots, and I clearly appreciate the beauty of all the smells of the kitchen and take deep  full breaths of them every chance I get.  And now with the herb gardens, both old and new, growing full steam ahead I have a whole new slew of things to sip up the scent of and sprinkle generously on everything.


Recently, my sweet giant husband (whom is fearful of nothing except taking charge in the kitchen) and I (who fears most things such as getting lost, meteors and giant squid but jumps at the opportunity to use some fine ingredients) agreed he would take over Sunday Night Suppers.  He is going to write down the  ingredients he needs, I am going to swap them up with a smile on my face, then I will kick back my swollen feet, rub my buddha belly, and watch my babies run in the grass while with any luck he too falls in love with the sound of sizzling garlic over a hot cast iron pan.


But me?  You’ll find me under this tree in a lounge chair (I intend on buying just for the occasion), sipping on a tall glass of soda water flavored with (gasp) SWEETENED cranberry juice.  Soon enough I will adorn my relaxed self with a tiny baby and a nice cold beer, but that is still some time away….  

but oh a girl can dream….