It’s been a while since I recorded some of what’s going on in Lucas’s development. It’s been an exciting time lately. He’s acting more grown up and pleasant some of the time, and more obnoxious at other times.

The Tidoo stories continue unabated. She remains his best friend, baby sister, and partner in crime. Tidoo’s age changes about five times per day. Sometimes she’s a newborn infant, other times she is a grown up astronaut. Sometimes she’s 3 years old, other times she’s 9. Tidoo pretty much knows everything, has done everything, can do everything. If Tidoo tells Lucas something, there’s really no convincing him otherwise. Together they fly airplanes, go on safari, ride bikes, drive trains, visit foreign countries, and explore the galaxy. Tidoo got a doll cradle for Christmas, so sometimes she sleeps there. More often than not, however, she still sleeps with Lucas, and frequently ends up in our bed in the early morning when he comes visiting.

Lucas is very excited about his baby brother coming. He says he can’t wait. My grandmother bought a stuffed bear for the new baby; it can record a short message and play it back. Presumably, this is something the toy maker thinks babies like. To me, it’s pretty awful. To Lucas, this device disguised as a teddy bear is a really a walkie-talkie. He talks into it and records messages that he regards as direct communications with the baby in my womb. He usually says some variation on this: “Hi Baby! I love you! I hope you come out of there. … Fart, fart, fart, fart!” The message usually ends with maniacal laughter. Sometimes he throws in his favorite nonsense word of late: “Faguga!” Lucas thinks Faguga would be a great name for our baby.

He still really likes school, but since he had two weeks off for Christmas vacation, he’s kind of bummed about having to return to our normal weekday schedule. He claims he doesn’t like to be rushed in the morning. We have a calendar now and we marked family days and school days on the calendar. I know that as soon as he gets to school, he has a great time. But he claims he doesn’t want to go. Frankly, I don’t blame him. I have always hated leaving the house before 9 a.m. myself, especially when it’s cold outside.

Over the break, Ian got to spend eleven days at home. He and Lucas totally bonded during this time. They built stuff, put together new toys, did projects, and made about a billion things out of Legos. I was very happy to see Ian relax and Lucas warm to his dad so completely. They now have all kinds of interests in common and enjoy each other’s company. This is encouraging, considering I will soon have my hands full with an infant.

Last night Lucas told me that I was the “best, best, best, best mommy in the world. In the whole world!” That was nice to hear. He says that his favorite time of day is bedtime, when we cuddle together and sing songs and he gets to put his hand down my shirt. He usually falls asleep shortly after the lights go out because he’s not napping in the afternoons any more. Every once in a blue moon I can coax him to nap with me (mostly because I need the rest). I still love falling asleep with his little body curled up to mine. I love how he smells of energy and sunshine and mud.

My little darling is fairly obsessed with weapons and army stuff lately. It has me feeling dismayed and disappointed. We bought him a wooden biplane kit for Christmas. He built it with Ian over the vacation, and together they decided to paint it like the Red Baron. This brought up all kinds of research into fighter planes and WWI. It looks super cool and is a sturdy toy, but it bothered me how much talk of war it spurred.

He’s building Legos into tanks. He talks about bombs and bullets, guns and shooting. I know that it’s probably normal, but I don’t like it at all. I’m trying not to give this stuff power or to shame him for being interested in things that mommy doesn’t approve of. Honestly, the kid never stops talking! So when he’s talking about all this stuff that bothers me, it gets on my nerves pretty quickly.

This baby would be on his way! Like, we’d be laboring now. Today’s the day (or, really, tomorrow at 3:45 a.m.) in the pregnancy that Lucas was born: 37 weeks, 3 days (19 days before his due date). Except it was May. And I was 29. And it was Lucas. And this is a different baby. And now I’m 34. But you know what I mean.

My midwife told me not to hold my breath for another early baby. Which is good. And bad. And it is what it is.

May you enjoy your day in the sun, your travels, and your homecoming!

These two show the watercolor background.

This picture shows how the acrylics are going on over the top of the watercolors. I plan to do a lot of shading and texturizing later on. Right now I’m getting the base colors on the wall.

People gathered on Sunday, January 14th, to throw a party for us and the newest Wilson; I already wrote a little about that.

I was looking in one of my books and found this info about a Roman festival of children, fertility, foresight, and birth that was celebrated on this date.

Carmentalia: January 14th

“Carmenta, the Roman goddess of prophesy and birth joins our new year festivities by teaching us the value of preparedness and productivity. She likes vegetal offerings… Her magical, prophetic nature can be seen in her name, specifically the root word carmen, meaning a spell or charm in the form of a song.

“In ancient Rome, today was the second to last day of a five-day-long festival honoring Carmenta. Pregnant women offered her rice for a safe delivery, while those wishing to have children ate raspberries to internalize her fertility. Romans considered this an excellent day to make predictions for a child.”

All in all, it was a perfect day upon which to have our community gather and bless our baby with all the good things life has to offer. I hope the prophesies of grace, bounty, goodness, friendship, love, and laughter all come true for him. I offered up some yummy rice to Carmenta that evening.

Thanks again.

Although the average length of pregnancy is around 40 weeks, we have officially reached “full-term” status. Lucas was born at 37 weeks and 3 days. This doesn’t really have any bearing on this pregnancy or serve as a predictor, but it’s interesting to note, and it has me thinking.

This past weekend, my darling friends threw a small party for me at my mother’s house. Thank you No-No! It was fun and low-key. Ian and I didn’t want a “shower” per se, as we really don’t need much stuff for this new baby and our lovely friends should spend their hard-earned money on themselves. Instead, we asked for baby blessings and forced people to write them down in a blank book for our baby. There were no degrading baby shower games, such as races to change a dolly’s diaper or guessing how many inches around I am right now—Thank God! Instead, there was yummy food, goodwill, friendly chatting, homemade pumpkin pie (Thank you, Grl_fury!), and we got to distribute long-burning “church” candles in the hopes that our community will burn a candle for us while we labor and send their prayers for a safe, strong, short, normal, nonmedicated, Birth Center birth out into the universe. I love the thought of my friends and family burning dozens of candles for us while we work to bring this baby into the world. The party that helped kindle some excitement in me and spurred some good daydreaming about the future when we have our second child. I’m deeply touched and grateful.

I also got to show off the WONDERFUL pregnancy/family photos that Frostee and T8 took for us a couple of weeks ago. When I have digital pics, I’ll post some.

We’ve been working on all kinds of nesting projects around the house since Christmas. Some of them are directly related to readying our space for a baby, some are just things we’ve been putting off for a long time. January is always a good time to reorg, throw out old stuff, make space, etc.

* bedroom curtain is hung
* bedroom closet cleaned, with neat new stacking drawers to store all the clothes that were strewn haphazardly on a shelf
* artwork hung on bedroom walls
* new bedroom clothes dresser (Xmas gift from mom and dad) is stocked
* old full-sized bed in baby’s room is gone
* books are purged
* baby crib is built
* cloth diapers are washed and ready
* newborn and 3-6 month clothes are washed and ready
* new clothes dresser for baby (Xmas gift from RoRo) is stocked
* arms-reach co-sleeper is built and ready for baby in our bedroom
* infant car seat has been dragged out of the garage. It needs a cleaning and then installation

The mural painting has begun. I posted this picture once before, but here it is again.

I’ve got most of the background watercolors in place and am starting to fill in the acrylics on top. It’s going to take a long time to complete the painting, but I’m enjoying the project immensely. I have an association with mural painting and going into labor because that’s what happened with Lucas: I finished painting his mural and went into labor that same day. Maybe it’s the squatting to reach the low spots?

The other day (last Wednesday) I made beef stew with red wine in the broth, but I didn’t plan it well. I was following the recipe and the stew had cooked an hour before I read the part about simmer another hour, do another step, then simmer for a final hour. Shit! It was 6 p.m. and the stew was supposed to be that night’s dinner. Plan B kicked in and we ate something else for dinner that night. I left the stew on the stove …

… with the heat up too high. The stew cooked down too much and nearly burned (see previous post about my pregnant knack for burning up meals: http://sarabellae.livejournal.com/81741.html). Ian came along and added more water and wine to the broth. We went to sleep.

The stew was resurrected for the following night’s meal. It tasted OK, but wasn’t all that I had hoped it would be. The broth was too soupy, not stewy enough. Later that night, Lucas woke up vomiting. He was sick repeatedly throughout the night and even the next morning.

We can’t be sure what caused it, but I suspect that the bottle of red wine that went into the stew pot wasn’t good for our 4-year-old. Too many tannins? Too acidic for him? I don’t think there was a high alcohol content after cooking it, but who knows? Ian and I were fine. Lucas’s only symptoms were a very sad tummy, vomiting, and lethargy the next day. (He took three naps because he’d been up being sick the night before.) Poor baby.

Ex-boyfriend Dream
Ex and ex’s sister in the dream show me their family’s new house, which is built in a very fairy tale style complete with gray stone tower and conical roof. The time is now, so ex is definitely an ex, but in the dream, I’m not pregnant. We converse and catch up on what’s been happening in each other’s lives. There’s a good feeling between us. Then ex tells me he has a present for me–sort of. It’s something he wants me to keep safe for him. He hands me a tall glass cylinder full of murky greenish fluid, some water plants, and a few green frogs. I ask him what this is for and why it’s so important. He tells me it’s his semen that he’s been saving for me, and that he thought I might be able to use it.

Interpretation: I’m glad I married Ian and not this ex. Ian gives me baby boys. Ex-boyfriend gives me frogs.

Birth Dream
I’m pregnant in this dream and go into labor. There’s not a lot of detail here, except that I labor and give birth. Instead of a baby, however, I have three puppies. This surprises me a lot, but I valiantly try to accept what the universe has given me. When they show me their puppy teeth though, my enthusiasm for breastfeeding is greatly diminished.

Interpretation: Sometimes Ian gives me puppies.

Thirty-five weeks, one day, and all is well, per Ruth, my midwife. Today Lucas got to come along to the appointment for the first time. He was jazzed about hearing the baby’s heart beating via the doppler thingy. Ruth says baby is still smallish and that it’s highly unlikley that I’ll end up with a nine-pounder when he’s born. That is soothing music to my … ears.

My favorite paparazzi, the dynamic duo of photos, came over yesterday and took pics of me, my bountifully big belly, and my family. I can’t wait to see ’em. Thank you, oh Flowery Ones.