Originally titled, “What The Hell is Even Going On Wednesday,” because it seemed most appropriate to describe a week of functioning/working/momming with my foggy, nausea-medicated brain. You know, like, “Wait, what? That happened THIS week? Am I supposed to be somewhere right now?” With my increased caffeine intake to balance this medication, I’ve noticed a little more clarity in my life, so now it can just be a more ladylike, “What’s Going On Wednesday.”
You’re welcome, Mom.
Anyway, today is the day I am holding myself accountable to at least document our week’s happenings.
I felt my baby girl move for the first time a few days ago! Baby GIRL. I still can’t comprehend it! That feeling of a tiny life inside of you is indescribable, and something I always miss after birth. While I’m pregnant, it’s me, and me alone, that is the special recipient of these little flickers, and it always feels like the baby and I share a little secret (or maybe just “Why did you eat that, Mom?”). Since it’s a sensation I’ll only get to experience a handful of times in my life, I’m thrilled to enjoy every little butterfly movement (but maybe not the jabs down the road)!
My boys have LOVED firemen and policemen recently, but firemen have had a slight edge lately. G had a field trip to a fire station, and Roscoe tagged along.
I threw up within two minutes of getting there (um, embarrassing), but the boys were unconcerned and completely entranced. They’ve currently checked out every fireman book they could find at the library. (I’ll be ready for all the late fees.)
Now, my house will NOT smell like Cinnamon Pumpkin nor Cranberry Woods lest I undergo a series of fire safety questions and list of concerns before lighting a candle. The wick will be closely monitored and blown out within one minute… but I think that’s unrelated to his recent fire unit.
My home will not be fall scented for a while with this serious fire marshal on watch.
Roscoe and I are enjoying special one on one time while Gus is at preschool. It took Roscoe a few times to shake off the confusion of his best bud leaving him for a couple hours, but now he is feeling less left out and more like the king of the castle. He even wanders into Gus’s room and requests, with a shy grin, that I change him into a shirt of Gus’s. We’ve pulled up to Gus’s preschool pickup with Roscoe in his brother’s wardrobe more than once.
Gus has a birthday coming up next, and has been asking to go to a certain restaurant since February (kids’ memories are super impressive, I might add). This restaurant is pricey, and Brian keeps trying to suggest other places, so we’ll see who wins.
(Gus will win.)
Gus also started teeball, and I am excited as he is! Because we live near baseball fields, Gus has grown up on them. We walked sloooowly around baseball fields when he was merely a week or so old, and I remember shuffling a little by the time we arrived to the field area, and being surprised and frustrated that my body couldn’t keep up. I needed more time to recover from his birth, but I had to get out, and he didn’t seem to mind me using his stroller as a walker. My extremely slow pace is what made it leisurely and extra memorable.
We’ve tracked red dirt into our home after I’d let babies sit to play in the sand on the pitcher’s mound.
We’ve ran bases with Fisher Price bats hundreds of times, and had countless picnics in the outfield. I wonder what third baseman found an abandoned granola bar at his feet.
To see Gus all dressed out and big enough to actually play was surreal. And emotional. And I’m definitely pregnant with feelings.