the home stretch

Today I have completed my 27th week of pregnancy, and according to most calendars I have seen, this means I am beginning the third trimester. I can't believe we're in the final third already — although I have to say, my body is feeling it. It's harder for me to lift Daniel for long stretches of time; I get out of breath walking up the basement stairs; my lower back is chronically sore, and I've got something wierd going on with my right hip joint that makes it even harder to get around, especially with a 22-pound load in my arms. I've been to the chiropractor twice in as many weeks, but it's not helping. Oh well ... just three months until we get to meet this little guy! I won't be toasting that thought with champagne tonight, of course. I'll be lucky if I'm still awake at midnight.

feast and family

This year, we had two Christmases — the big family gathering at Steve's dad's place on Christmas Day and a small family gathering of just the three (well, four) of us at home on Christmas Eve, when we opened our presents. Someone else is usually in charge of what we eat at the big feast, so even though Steve and I usually bring something to contribute, I don't really get to participate in the fun (and energy) of planning out a meal. I miss that sometimes — dreaming up side dishes to go with the ham or the turkey, mulling over cookbooks to find creative ways to do sweet potatoes or green vegetables. So this year, Steve and I began a Christmas Eve tradition of having our own private feast, just for the family. It doesn't have to be huge or perfect — just fun and delicious and maybe a little adventurous. To get in the spirit of it, I turned to one of my favorite cookbook authors, Nigella Lawson, who manages to be laid back about cooking even while she's passionate about it. For Christmas Eve, I browsed through her Feast and decided to go with sausages with onion-cider gravy and a mashed potato dish that also incorporates apples. That, and the Brussels sprouts cooked with pancetta and chestnuts. It was delicious; I nearly literally swooned when we finally sat down and started eating. For dessert, we just had a few slices of chocolate loaf cake that I'd made over the weekend (from Nigella's How to be a Domestic Goddess). I've baked several batches of it throughout the fall, and it's my biggest addiction at the moment. I cannot stop at just one slice and sometimes have eaten half a loaf in one sitting. Let's hope I don't get gestational diabetes.

If Nigella Lawson is relaxed and laid back in her attitude to cooking, my other favorite cookbook is the opposite and appeals to an entirely different (read: obsessive) side of me. It's The New Best Recipe, by the editors of Cook's Illustrated magazine. These folks will test a recipe down to its bare bones before settling on the very best combination of ingredients and cooking techniques. It's fascinating and sometimes pretty funny to read their process as they haggle over the minutae of a recipe, often making it dozens of times and having testers taste each permutation. For sweet potatoes — which is what I made for the big family gathering yesterday — it was all about whether to boil the potatoes or bake them to get the best flavor out of them, and whether to cook them whole and scrape them out of their peels once cooked or cut them up ahead of time. Their conclusion: Cut them up raw and braise them in a pot with nothing but a small amount of butter and cream, thereby letting them cook in their own juices. (I used a variation with ginger and brown sugar.) This way, they say, you get the full-bodied sweet-potato flavor without watered-down mushiness. And what do you know? They were right.

In the picture: Here's Daniel, the youngest of the 12 cousins (so far) on Steve's side of the family, with the oldest cousin, Beth, who is a junior in college and studying to be a teacher. He loved her. All the cousins but one were together yesterday, which was a rare achievement. It was a beautiful day — snowy but not too cold — and all the kids were red-faced and sweaty after coming in from ice skating on the pond outside the house. It was nice and relaxing, a very good Christmas.

the empty nest

As I write, Daniel is taking his nap — in his own bed. For the past two days and two nights, he has been sleeping on his crib mattress, which we moved to a corner of our bedroom about three feet from our big bed. And he loves it! Not once since we made the transition has he seemed unhappy there or asked to come to our bed, and even when he's not sleeping, he likes sitting on his "big boy bed" playing with his stuffed animals and books. He even fell asleep on it today for his nap, with me lying beside him (tighter squeeze), which is really something. I thought it would be much harder to wean him from our bed.

Now, for me, it's been a little tougher. The first night, I missed him so much I felt empty inside, and a little anxious, and couldn't get to sleep. I miss feeling the warmth of his little body next to mine. I miss the way he wakes up in the morning, sits up between us and says his big, dramatic, "Hiiiii!" and then leans back down against Steve or me and cuddles for a few more minutes. But he doesn't seem to miss the cuddling too much. He knows we're close, and he seems to sleep more soundly without two bodies rolling around on either side of him. Steve has been sleeping next to him in a sleeping bag to comfort him if he wakes up and make sure he doesn't roll off the mattress, but as soon as we think he's used to the transition, I'll have my husband back, too, and I sure am looking forward to being able to cuddle up against him again.

This all was triggered by something scary that happened last week. Well ... it's true we'd been debating what to do about our "family bed" once the new baby comes, but we hadn't made any decisions. Wait and see. But last week, I happened to be napping with Daniel on the big bed, and somehow (mother's instinct, maybe) I woke up just in time to see him sliding head-first off the edge of the bed. He must have been half asleep still because he knows how to climb off the bed feet-first when he's awake — it seemed like it was happening in slow motion. I grabbed his ankle and stopped his fall, but his head was only inches from the floor when I caught him. I know lots of kids fall out of beds, but usually not head-first. If Daniel had landed on the top of his head, I don't know what kind of hurt he would have been in, or if it could have damaged his neck. We were both pretty freaked out, and he cried for a little while as I held him.

At that point, I knew something had to change — whether it was developing a better system of blocking the edge of the bed (better than just pillows) or moving him into his crib or something in between. I talked with Steve, talked with a friend whose toddler also sleeps in their room, and stayed up late a few nights researching options online. I checked out toddler beds, bolsters and bed rails, and this is what we ended up. Steve and I spent an hour or so Saturday moving a bookshelf, dusting the floor and talking up the new bed to Daniel, who, as I've said, took to the idea like a duck to water. And I think it's a good next step.

my year in movies

Let it not be said that having a baby puts an end to movie watching! True, I only saw four movies in a theater this year (two with Steve, one with a friend, and one by myself), but a perusal of our Netflix rental list shows that we checked out somewhere around 100 DVDs in 2007. Here, in no particular order, are my favorites ... and the biggest disappointments.

Favorite (OK, only, but they were all good) movies seen at a theater:

• The Queen
• Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
• Once
• Juno

Favorite English-language films (not including the four above, which would be on this list had I not listed them in a separate category):

• Mrs. Henderson Presents
• Sweet Land
• Knocked Up
• Dreamgirls
• Little Children
• Gideon's Daughter
• Little Miss Sunshine
• A Crude Awakening: The Oil Crash (documentary)
• The History Boys
• The Departed
• Notes on a Scandal
• The Pursuit of Happyness

Favorite foreign-language films:

• The Lives of Others (Germany)
• Volver (Spain)
• The Chorus (France)
• The Valet (France)

Favorite TV series on DVD:

• Big Love: Season 1
• The Sopranos: Season 6: Part 2
• Entourage: Season 3

Biggest disappointments (movies I expected to like a lot, given all their hype, but really didn't):

• A Mighty Heart (Loved the book about journalist Daniel Pearl's death, think it's cool that Angelina Jolie and Mariane Pearl are friends in real life ... expected much more from the movie.)
• Babette's Feast (Dreary!)
• Into Great Silence (Heard raves about this mostly-silent documentary about the inside life of a French monastery, but couldn't stay awake for an hour, much less the full three.)
• Babel (This was nominated for an Academy Award?!)
• Borat (It seemed like a string of Borat sketches from Da Ali G Show; the TV sketches were funny, but this movie got tiring.)
• Pan's Labyrinth (I can't stomach films that show fascist brutality in so much detail.)
• The Aristocrats (I've heard about the near-cult following this film has. What on earth is the big f*&%ing deal?)

And my top favorites?

I really loved a handful of these — The Queen, Gideon's Daughter, Mrs. Henderson Presents, Little Children, Juno. But the one movie that made me turn to Steve as the credits rolled and say, "This is the best film I've seen all year," was The Lives of Others, which won the Academy Award this past year for best foreign-language film. It's about a government worker in Eastern Germany during the 1980s who is assigned to spy on a couple of artists. I know ... it doesn't sound hugely compelling the way I describe it ... but I loved it. It was gripping, human, sad and uplifting; and, unlike fellow nominee Pan's Labyrinth, it managed to portray the scariness of a horrible government regime without making me have to throw up or avert my eyes.

first haircut, in pictures

Before (I used to love sweeping that long hair behind his ears.)


During (Abby at Kids' Hair did a great job, and they saved some of his hair in an envelope for me. Daniel only cried at the end, when she took the electric clippers to him; I should have warned her that would scare him. After that, there was no consoling him except to take him down from his seat.)


After (He looks like such a boy. So cute, though I kind of miss the long hair. *Sigh.* My baby is growing up.)

random thoughts and photos

I missed a hair-cutting appointment Saturday. Just completely blanked out. It was in my Filofax, but not on the big wall calendar, so maybe it was reasonable that I'd forget, but it felt like a pregnancy-brain thing to do. Now I can't get in until Jan. 5, but it's OK. I can get through the holiday season without a trim.

I'm 25 weeks pregnant now — about five and a half months — and I've really popped in the past week. (See photo ... and click here to see what I looked like when I was this far along with Daniel. I seem to be carrying this one less all-over-the-belly, or something; my bump is all in one place. Are you impressed that I'm still able to hold Daniel on my hip? So am I ... though it's getting harder.) I've been wearing last year's winter jacket so far, and zipping it up has been no problem ... until this weekend. Now it's a really tight squeeze. Fortunately, I had a maternity coat lying in waiting, and I've graduated to using it most of the time. It's actually even kind of cute — a brown, down-stuffed, Old Navy number that I found at a consignment store this fall for $30.

Mom and Dad gave us a membership to the Minnesota Children's Museum for Christmas, and I have to say, it's one of the best gifts ever. We got our membership cards Friday and took Daniel Saturday, and he had the best time — running around the "Habitot" room, pushing the button that makes the timberwolf howl sound, and sliding down the sloped, carpeted ramp. He hit paydirt in the Sesame Street room, though: computers. This boy adores computers with a single-minded fascination that makes him very persistent. I can't keep him away from ours at home, and he knows where to find all the computers at his school each week. He breaks away from me when I'm taking off his jacket and runs in to grab the mouse and turn the screen on. Today, Teacher Jill stood guard in the doorway to her computer room when she saw him coming! So ... at the Sesame Street exhibit, he had a field day with the interactive Elmo program. Not that he has a clue who Elmo is, which is fine with me. The Santa at the mall tried to tease a smile out of Daniel by waving an Elmo doll at him, but he got nothing.

Speaking of pictures with Santa, I did end up succumbing to that highly overpriced temptation this year at the Mall of America. It was a couple of weeks ago, when the weather first turned cold, and I hadn't been planning more than an escape from the freeze (and a chance to get out of the house) when I dressed Daniel in the casual (and, ugh, mismatched) outfit he's wearing. But the line was short, and Santa looked friendly, so I thought Daniel might enjoy the experience. As it happened, he refused to sit on Santa's lap for even a second. We did manage to get a cute picture, though, with him in the rocking chair and Santa cozying up behind him. Would you believe Daniel has no idea Santa is there? He's smiling because the photographer was waving a stuffed moose in the air behind the camera. Do I feel better having gotten this obligatory picture taken for posterity? I guess. :) It could be fun to do it every year and see how he changes from year to year. Besides, next year there will be two of them, and that could be cute ... unless we have to fit both of them into that rocking chair.

someone get this boy a bib

Remember how I mentioned, in the post before last, that Daniel's teething causes him to drool all over the front of his shirt? This is what I mean. Here he is with some of the girls from play group last week, looking kind of like an old man in his high-riding sweatpants and wool socks, and of course the drooly shirt. My boy knows how to impress the ladies!

Fortunately, this latest round of teething seems to have subsided, and we are all getting a good night's sleep. For now. He still has five molars and four canines to go.

littlest one

You and I, we have kind of a relaxed, unspoken thing going on, don't we? I don't obsess about you the way I did with Daniel. I don't look up how big you are every week on Baby Center.com. I don't rush to Google to ask whether it's OK to drink chamomile tea or if it's bad if I wake up at night lying on my back. I drink coffee every day and eat the occasional tuna salad sandwich. I even had a glass of wine with dinner last month (oh, how I miss red wine) and sipped some of your dad's Chardonnay at Thanksgiving. I don't worry so much, and it's kind of nice. Maybe part of it is that I've been here before, so I know the ropes a little more. Or that you survived early on, when I thought you might have died, so I know you're a survivor, and the midwife says you're doing fine. Or maybe it's just how busy I am day to day, taking care of your brother (whom you are going to love, by the way). Still, we have our moments together, don't we? I felt you kicking in class this morning, and I put my fingers on top of you and felt you dancing around in there. I would have said hello, but we were in class, and it wasn't a good time to talk. Don't worry ... I'll check in with you next time you're awake. We have a few more months together before we meet in person. It's cold outside, but you don't have to worry about that. I hope you're comfy and warm right now. By the time you're ready to come out, the earth will be thawing, and we'll have a lovely spring and summer ahead of us. Until then, keep on kicking. It's always nice to hear from you.

shoes, spoons and poetry

Daniel has been getting his first set of molars in the past month, and it's meant a few sleepless nights for all of us. I can't imagine how painful it must be for those giant mountain ranges of teeth to push through his raw gums. And the drool this produces is soaking his shirts on a daily basis. I change him into a dry shirt before we go outside for fear of a deep freeze against his chest. The other night, he was waking up intermittently, crying and struggling to sit up, throwing himself against our bodies until we were awake enough to hold him. Usually, just sitting up in bed and cradling him in my arms helps him go back to sleep, but it doesn't help me sleep, and boy does mama need her sleep these days. We ended up spending most of the early morning hours snoozing in a spooning position, his head on my shoulder, his little body curled into a fetal position and tucked up against mine, my free arm draped over his leg.

This story and these pictures of Daniel trying on our shoes are just filler, really. This week has been unusually contemplative for me. There's so much of myself that I could spill onto this keyboard, but it's hard for me to do that when I'm immersed so much in my thoughts and reflecting on things to the point where I just need quiet and space to let everything simmer. I don't know if it's my upcoming 40th birthday causing me to evaluate my life, make plans, claim my dreams; or the author of Eat, Pray, Love being on Oprah and prompting me to think about what I "really, really, really" want; or the fact that every day something triggers my wondering if I am going to live long enough for my sons to know me, for me to be able to watch them grow up. It's not fear or anxiety that occupies my mind at those moments, but a certain sense of sadness and and urgency and awareness that I don't know the hour nor the day — that none of us do, really — and we'd best live with a sense of purpose, of what is important to us, not superficially but deep down.

My friend Johanna posted a poem on her blog by Mary Oliver that ends like this:

"Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?"

Our wild and precious lives, indeed.

snow lover ... or not?

Ah, how young begins the Minnesotan's love-hate relationship with winter weather. Today, after our first real dumping of snow for the season, we bundled everyone up and took Daniel outside to explore the white stuff.

"You want me to what?"


"Hey, why do I keep falling down? This is cold."


"Waaaah ... I want to move to Portland!"