Tummywatch Tuesday: 28 Weeks
First of all, 28 weeks isn’t as bad as I make it look here. I was just impatient because it was a little cold out. Plus we still haven’t gotten a decent camera, so we’re using the one on my nearly two-year-old phone, which is something like 72 in phone-camera years. It’s curmudgeonly. You press the button, and it captures the scene in front of it as soon as it’s good and ready to capture the scene in front of it, missy. Maybe that instant. Maybe 10 seconds later. Depending on whether or not its sciatica is acting up or something.
Actually, I am feeling better than any other time in this pregnancy. The massage last week really did the trick, so I’m getting another one this week, followed closely by a chiropractic appointment, which I’m imagining will act as the one-two punch that zaps my rib and lower back pain once and for all. That’s the plan anyway.
Plus, I think the energy boost that typically arrives during the second trimester was just running a little late. I flit about last week in a way that I’ve been unable to do for, oh, six months or so, the highlight of which had to be a four-hour dinner with visiting friends at a delicious restaurant. I love such leisurely dinners. It made me feel connected and fun again. Not that it magically erased the previous 150 evenings wherein I was fast asleep and drooling on the couch pillows midway into any given evening’s “Law & Order” theme song, but it reminded me that there is hope. There will one day be life after 8 PM.
So take the fact that I’m feeling spry, add my inordinate amount of story deadlines and the fact that we’re knee-deep into the foyer renovation project, barely poised to finish it in time to host 20-plus people for Thanksgiving, and what do you think happens? Today, I get The Call from daycare. Roy’s got a fever of over 104. So of course I dropped everything and picked him up, then spent the bulk of the afternoon cuddling on the couch reading books and playing trucks. Which really isn’t a bad way to spend an afternoon, especially since he was in a surprisingly good mood. My favorite part was when Clint called on his way home, and the sun was setting, and Roy said, “Pink sky, Daddy,” and held the phone up to the window so Clint could take it in, too. That little guy loves his moon phases and sunsets. And, of course, his daddy.
His sister is now the size of a head of iceberg lettuce, according to Parents.com’s week-by-week babytracker. I can’t wait to welcome her to the chaos and to see what it is she has to bring to the table. Roy’s so relatively calm and thoughtful, I have a feeling we have a spunky one getting ready to make her debut.
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