news?

I'm 18 weeks pregnant and the baby is the size of a bell pepper. I'm also feeling under the weather and would like to curl up in bed with a book and some tea. Gus has other plans. Why is it that his plans almost never involve curling up under some blankets on a cold day?

In other news, Dave and I are doing our best to buy a local business. We've put in an offer and it looks like they've accepted it and the purchase agreement is in the draft stages. I can see it now - when the news people come to interview me after the aliens attack, under my name it will no longer say "local woman" but instead, "local business owner". Can't hardly believe it! Yay!

beer making

Yesterday, Dave bottled the nut brown ale that he made just before new years.

It's just shy of two cases, and we think it's going to be good.

Gus helped, as he always does. The warning on this bucked always cracks me up - not because it's funny that a baby can drown in a bucket, but because it's just a comical drawing. Here's Gus not following the warning.

And here he is using his tiptoes to look inside.

Tiptoes are cute.

remembering

One of my favorite books of poetry is "You Won't Remember This" by Michael Dennis Browne. I had Professor Browne for a summer poetry class I took at the U, and after taking it I bought his book. I still see him from time to time, shopping at the co-op, which I think is pretty neat.

Anyway, the book is poems about his kids, mostly, and the title poem "You Won't Remember This" has stayed with me. Here's the first part:


You lift your arms to your head,
which looks so dark, then turn
to lie on your side, the fluid
swilling in your abdomen.
The radiologist says:

"Anything dark is liquid,
anything white is muscle,
anything gray is bone."

These like the moon pictures,
wavering, grainy, the lens
lurching, and again you turn;
that shadowy bulb is your head,
those snow streaks your muscles,
those blurred tundras your bones.

you won't remember this

At ten days
you look lonely.
You seem between countries.

You look at me briefly,
not with interest.
You give no sign.

I toss you shreds of song
to where you lie,
down in the cradle canyon,
looking up.

Remote to you my moon
drifts over the rim

You lie,
looking up.

you won't remember this

Today your first injection,
and tonight you cry, your thigh
throbbing. Now you have fallen
asleep on my left shoulder,
lying across my heart.

you won't remember this

You don't want to go
to day care today; you weep,
you cling to my leg,
you roll your eyes:
oh no oh no; all the sorrows
of my mother in my daughter.

you won't remember this

I hear a moaning from upstairs;
slowly you descend--whooo whooo whooo --
over your head the nibbled blanket;
on the last tread trip, topple
--oops! oops! --
and I gather up my ghost.

you won't remember this



It's a phrase and a poem that often comes to mind in this first year with Gus and now with this second pregnancy. So much of our early lives is gone to our memories, but so much of it is formative, I think. Attitudes about food, about life, and love - all these feelings and learning about life are being formed now, while he's only so wee.

Last night, standing in the kitchen. He'd kicked out of his pants and his shirt was half undone. Standing, throwing the tupperware over his head, I couldn't help by think " you won't remember this." Oh, but I will sweet one. It's moments like these I hope I never forget.

so cold

Normally, I'm not one to complain about the cold. Really - I like winter and I like living in Minnesota in the cold months. I get annoyed when long time residents complain about the weather and generally think - if you don't like the cold, then move. But this? Well this is just something else.


That's right, it says "Pipe-rupturing, battery-draining cold" and above, it says today's high will be -5 , and will feel like -30. That's just outright insane.

This column tells me today is the coldest morning in the twin cities since January 30, 2004, which blows my mind a little bit. 5 years ago we were living in the little house without a furnace, and Dave was leaving for work at 6 am. I don't remember it being this cold, so the heat of new love must have been keeping us warm.

The thermometer on our porch only goes down to -10. This morning it looked like this:

Yowza. Don't worry. Gus and I are still planning to walk to our class this afternoon. It'll be warmer by 1:00, right?

16 weeks

I know, this post needs a photo. I do not have one. Rest assured that I am indeed showing already, and I have not felt the baby move yet. According to babycenter.com, the little one is the size of an avocado this week. I was shocked to weigh myself at the gym (yay me! I went to the gym!) last night and find out that I have not gained any weight. Apparently my belly is sticking out, I feel bloated and huge, and I weigh the exact same as I did 10 weeks ago. Pregnancy is weird.

I was looking back recently, seeing what I posted about this early stage of pregnancy with Gus. I really enjoyed reading those old posts, and I'm looking forward to reading more. So far it seems as if things are just about the same as far as how I'm feeling and what I'm doing. A little less conscious of what I eat, a little more lax about the whole working out thing, but for the most part the pregnancies are similar so far.

In other news, it was a busy weekend. Gus went to both an art opening and an art museum, yet we did not bring the cameras At the museum he saw a string quartet, which was pretty neat. He got a visit from his grand-dad, and got to eat a delicious blueberry pancake at Al's (he gets to do that most weekends). We both got to see our midwives and that's always fun. They love seeing Gus, and I appreciate that they come to me this time around. Not exactly relaxing, but definitely a lot of fun.