Despite an extra-terrestrially large stomach, I am managing to still get in and out of cars as well as lay down and get up off of beds. Overnight, the baby seemed to double in size; (s)he obviously resents sharing the space with other organs since before bed every night, its hands and feet get into a nice little scuffle with my ribs and kidneys. I don’t recall Clara being this active. In fact, I recall constantly wondering if she was still alive. Every punch is a reminder of how real baby-building is even though it still seems incredulous that one body could grow inside another one.
The homecomings of all homecomings will be this Wednesday when Aaron drives up after six-weeks’ of separation. Lately, whenever the cell phone rings, Clara runs to find it and calls, “Phone call! My Daddy! My Daddy! Phone!” It will be wonderful to be a family again and then to be an even bigger family in a few weeks.
Some friends of my parents dropped off a sign for grandparents to put outside their house, which reads “Grandparent’s House: No Parents, Cookies and Milk, Spoiling, Four-Hour Time Limit.” After six weeks of living at home and potty-training a two-year-old on my parents’ carpet, I’ve certainly challenged the notion of “four hours.” Clara passes out lots of kisses and I try to bake a lot of cookies, but I know there’s nothing quite like routine. It will have been a great stay, but I have this queen-sized bed in my old house that I really, really want to sleep on.
Here’s Clara sporting the backpack Grandma knitted for her:
She also loves helping Grandma make jewelry:
Last Saturday was Clara’s second house concert and she had quickly learned the drill: find a stump and dance. Also, she’s wearing her Tampa Bay Rays shirt from her Uncle Ron in this picture. We had a “look at how cute her brain is” moment when Clara immediately went to retrieve her Rays’ shirt when my mom turned on the game that night. In this picture, she’s dancing with my mom’s friend Gloria who inspired my new saying “I want a Gloria” as she cleaned nearly every single dish that passed through the potluck.
There was some more wardrobe changes and dancing as the night with Sunny Jim on steel drums went by:
Finally, we sat for awhile and enjoyed the music. Clara’s bedtime is all out-of-whack, but among other cliches I’ve come to heartily embrace, “don’t sweat the small things” sounds pretty good right about now: