The bouncy seat that was parked on our kitchen island for the last nine months is no more. Don’t tell CPS, but she just sits on the counter now while we’re cooking breakfast (and, yes, always 100% supervised). She even has her very own chore: she puts the coffee grounds in the espresso maker.
She gets grounds on the counter. She gets them on her pajamas, and when she accidentally drops her blueberries on the counter she gets it on them too. It’s all good. For fifteen months she’s honestly pretty dang steady. And she NEVER messes up on purpose. It’s actually kind of cute how intent she is on the whole process. This morning when I didn’t get her the spoon fast enough she started squawking at me.
As for Carl and I, we’re doing well. Busy but well.
I’ve been working hard to make up my word count deficit from our round of colds early in the month, and it looks like I’ll just squeak in by July 1st. 32,000 words. 120-some pages. I’m just a smidge surprised things are working out so well, but of course I’ve worked on the early plotting before. It’s about to get a little more challenging as I launch into part 2.
In more ways than one.
I can feel my body starting to slow down. 28 weeks doesn’t seem that far along in the grand scheme of 40+, but with the heat and the slow, daily stretch of my much-abused abdomen I’m not exactly feeling peppy. Mostly I ache. My stomach, floating ever higher in my chest, feels queasy before meals… and after meals… and pretty much a lot of the time. I’m dizzy a lot more too this time—which I like to attribute to the heat but sometimes worry that it might be gestational diabetes (I just did the glucose screening last week and haven’t heard results yet, so it’s been on my mind). Egh. As tiring as the newborn phase is—or at least what I remember of it through the haze—there’s something to be said for having one’s body on the healing track instead of the cliff jump route.
Soon enough. In the mean time, the book is growing, the baby’s doing great, and we’re all just chugging along. Life is good.