March Time

Time is messing with me this week.

 

I want it to hurry on, so Patrick will come home, and Jack will remove his bulky squirming mass from my straining abdomen.

 

I want it to slow down, so I can savor my remaining childless hours, and the waning months of my 20s, and the last few weeks of having my son ALLLLL to myself.

 

It marches on, oblivious to my wants.  Convenient, since I can’t seem to make up my mind.

 

Oh, my mind.  It is unhinged, of late.  I tell you truly, there is nothing that more effectively destroys a perfectly sane person’s, uh, sanity, than impending motherhood.  Well, that’s probably not even remotely close to true.  Some perspective is called for, but I have hormones, so you can’t make me have perspective.

 

Easter weekend was actually quite wonderful.  It began with my boss coming into my office on Friday at 1:30 pm.  "So, what are you working on right now?  Is it really important?" he asked me.  Hmmm, I thought, I wonder what job he’s going to give me.  "No," I said aloud, "not too important."  "OK good," he replied, "so go home."  I went home.

 

That night I hosted a Stitch n’ Bitch – and it was really pretty fun.  I invited some girlfriends over with their bags of crochet and knitting and cross stitch, hoping for company and also to force myself to get my baby blanket complete and ready to go before the baby it belongs to is complete and ready to go.  Getting out early on Friday allowed me to make a leisurely drive home to my town’s Yarn Store, where I picked up the powder blue skeins I need to finish my blanket . . . and my town’s  Wine Shop, where I bought a bottle of red wine with a pretty label . . . and Food Lion, where I found the supplies to make mini pizzas and strawberry shortcake.  Once home, I slipped into the tub for an hour or so of soaking my aching feet and back, before hopping up to tidy the house and prepare the pizza toppings.  Chop chop chop, and into little bowls went green and red peppers, onions, garlic, tomatoes, portabella mushrooms, olives (black and green), Canadian bacon, pineapple chunks, pepperoni, and sausage that I cooked up just before they arrived so that the house smelled fantastic.  I chopped up a basket of strawberries while my sister (who had arrived early to help) greeted the girls as they arrived.  One of my friends brought a spray of tiny red roses.  Others brought wine, cookies, desserts.  Green candles burned around the room, and I kept the doors open to the balmy night, and we made and ate mini pizzas and drank wine and when we were done with that, we ate strawberries and cream and the coffee ice cream that one of the girls brought.  Then we pulled out our bags of yarn and began working, admiring one another’s skills, sharing knitting needles and tips and compliments.  It was a warm, enveloping, female evening, and I enjoyed it very much.

 

I slept deeply and long.  For the first time of this whole pregnancy, my frequency of, er, potty breaks has really slowed down, allowing me to sleep almost the night through (I only get up twice or three times now).  It is wonderful to get all of this sleep, knowing the sleep deprivation that lies ahead in my near future.  Anyway, at 9am on Saturday morning, I opened my eyes to see a pair of brown puppy dog peepers looking right at me.  He was right, it was time to get up already, and so I let him out and then searched for baby announcements online for a while, and began preparations for the wedding shower we are hosting in late June.  Midday I went to a local Fun Park where my sister and some friends celebrated her 26th birthday by playing video games, eating hot dogs, and mini golfing.  It was 80 degrees, and I got a sunburn and had my first pregnancy swollen feet experience.  I felt like I was walking on a couple of boats, so after our 18 rounds of golf I went home to put them up and rest.  Rest I did, and then returned, with puppy in tow, to sister+friends, who had moved the party to her boyfriend’s house.  We had grilled hamburgers and hot dogs (two hot dog meals in one day – oh dear), and they all drank beer and I had a Coke, and Virgil ran circles around the tree he was tied to.

 

Sunday was a day of measured but steady activity.  I woke at 9 again – two days in a row! – and bundled the dog up for a long walk at the Community Center Park nearby.  It’s a 3 mile loop trail, and we took frequent rests to be sure Mama doesn’t break her water early, and Virgil met all kinds of dogs and people and just had a wonderful time.  I stopped by Wal Mart on the way home to pick up baby shower Thank You cards and various other household necessities (shampoo, dish detergent, fun stuff like that), and I found it impossible to walk by the plant nursery with an empty cart.  Oh, we have to bring Jack home to a porch bedecked with flowers!  I allowed myself to buy 5 pansies at 88 cents each, and one packet of wildflower seeds for $3, and I think that was very restrained.  Once home, I made the tastiest BLT in the history of lunch, and then Virgil and I worked together to transfer my new purchases into my pots.  I discovered that my little hand trowel has gone missing – most likely dragged under the shed by the dog – and so I improvised with a stick and the cat litter scoop, and also dug my hands down into the cool soil to turn it.  The pots are lined up on the porch steps now, waiting to meet the new King of the Castle.

 

On Sunday evening I made myself an Easter dinner of steak (I found a $2 sirloin, and it was actually tender and tasty!), a baked potato with loads of butter, and asparagus.  For dessert I had shortcake and cream with frozen blueberries.  I even nursed a glass of red wine over the course of about 3 hours, the last remaining glass from the Stitch n Bitch.  I spent the rest of the evening trying desperately to digest my huge meal before bed (or heartburn would have murdered me), stitching away at Jack’s blanket, thinking of how this is probably the last Sunday I will spend completely alone for a very long time.  And not minding too much about that.

 

And that was Easter, 2008.  Next year we will dye eggs, even though Jack will be too young to do much more than make a mess.  The Easter Bunny will visit.  We will go to church as a family.  Maybe he’ll wear a little suit.  Holidays have a different, more exciting flavor to me when small kids are involved, and I can’t wait to spend the next several holidays watching Jack learn all about them.

 

The first holiday that Jack, Patrick and I will share . . . will be mother’s day.  And doesn’t that just bring a wistful tear to your eye.  It does to mine.