Liberty asked me today what comes after Romans. I said Ephesians. My dear husband corrected me when I told him this story, so before you email me regarding my error, I know. In all fairness I was 2 hours into typing court reports for a job I’ve started for an online news site, and my head was swimming. I do not know law, the correct way to word things, or how to think about books of the Bible and felonies at the same time. My brain doesn’t multitask as well as I once thought, it turns out.
So, Ephesians. Or rather, what Liberty told Eden when she repeated my response. “Confusions, Eden. It’s Confusions.” Ah yes, that would describe my state of mind, at the very least.
Brady, dear dog, finally learned to ring the bell when she wants to go outside. And that yes, she really wants to go outside for such business. It took some convincing on that part, and she’s not without her accidents, but finally. Ah, the rejoicing when that little bell rang was a sight to behold. The girls, my belly and I did a little dance. If you can call jerky uncoordinated and slightly painful movements on my part dancing. My belly though, it danced. Just kept right on jiggling, even after I’d stopped. Dwell on that one for a moment and let me know if you laughed – or cringed. Ah, the joys.
A photo, provided it’s flattering according to me, is coming. Just as soon as I’ve done my hair, makeup, and find a shirt that will still cover the bottom of my belly. Don’t hold your breath – but know that I’m working on it. If nothing else, I’ll go buy a Mu-mu. A really, really flattering Mu-mu. You know.
Baby’s big, but not as big as Sterling was at this point. Due in 4 weeks. Please, please, make that 2? Fun once-a-week appointments have begun. I’m dilated to 1cm. 50%. That means nothing, I assure you. Except that I’m not in labor, I suppose. No name yet. No closer to a name yet. Poor, poor child. In our discussions of proper and common nouns today, we were talking of first, middle and last names, and going through Blaine’s siblings and all their many names. We named off 22 first/middle names that his parents had to choose, and Liberty said, “Wow! That’s a lot of names to have to pick!” Tell me about it. Trying to pick 10 is hard enough. Sterling was playing “Meanie, Meanie, Mo, Catch a Tiger by his Toe…” in Sterling fashion today. Maybe we should just get out to baby name book and let him at it.
I’m tired. And tired writings from me typically go cynical. Or sarcastic. I’d better just call it a night before this gets worse.