get down with OCD, yeah you know me!

Lately I've been feeling that, should I be so inclined, I could totally get my health insurance to spring for a good psychotherapist. In layman's terms, I've gone a little bit batshit. Seriously. Explanations would take us a little too far into the realm of my actual, non-chronicled life, so they'll stay omitted. But for your vicarious pleasure, I'll submit the following example of life with the loony.

I've been crying over everything. My eyes feel like sandpaper and my makeup has been tissued off by 11am, tops. I choose to blame the pregnancy hormones, but who knows?

Anyway, here's the story. I don't have a whole lot of memories of my childhood. The ones that I do have tend to be pretty vivid, if not very relevant. One thing I do remember well is the distinct pleasures that I had when my mother would buy us new Beatrix Potter soap figurines made by Crabtree & Evelyn. Nora and I were huge Beatrix Potter fans, and the soap was so wonderful. French milled, smelling like jojoba, and pressed into the shapes of Peter Rabbit, Jemima Puddleduck, Jeremy Fisher, and Tom Kitten. Oh, and Alice in Wonderland. Don't know how she fit in, actually. The stuff lasted forever. I loved it.

So naturally, I began to think about buying some for my baby. So what if he's over three months away from entering the world? So what if you don't use actual soap on babies right away? Better to be prepared! I dug up my credit card and headed over to Crabtree & Evelyn where the website promptly informed me that the only children's products currently manufactured by said company was something called 'nursery tales', a brightly packaged collection of balms, soaps, and creams that were NOT TOM KITTEN. I sat at my desk, trying to absorb the fact that the beloved soaps had been discontinued, goodness only knows how long ago. Then I promptly burst into tears.

I mourned the staggering loss for a day or two before admitting my woe to a coworker, who suggested that I look for them on eBay. I've never bought or bid on anything on eBay. And I was highly sceptical that anyone would really be trafficking in baby soaps made over a decade ago. But what the hell.

I was wrong.

One week and eight dollars later, I was the proud posessor of this:
And a few days later, I decided to get him a companion:


Then, there was the deal I couldn't refuse:



And then, things just started to get out of hand:
I was finally able to admit I had a problem when I emailed someone in Great Britian to ask about shipping charges for a Jeremy Fisher soap. Must. Get. A. Grip.

But this baby will be so very, very clean!

yes, I'm still a knitter

recently completed:

It's a baby, stupid!

There's a new gourmet deli/bakery in town that we're real happy to have. They've just opened, so a lot of items aren't available yet. Still, we want to give them lots of support so they'll stick around. It would be nice to have a Boar's Head option instead of only Shur-Fine, you know?

I happened to be in town this morning, so I stopped in before work to see if their antique hot cocoa machine was operational yet. Imported chocolate and all...mmmm! The owner/barista was sorry to report that it wasn't. I patted my (very protruding) belly and said, "Well, I'm kind of limited in what I can have, but I suppose a single latte will be okay."

He starts to makes it, and then pauses to look at me. Then he says, "You know, those hot chocolates aren't low-calories or anything."

Ouch. I've never identified with James Carville so much in my life when I stared at him and said icily, "It's a baby, stupid!" Okay, I didn't say that, exactly. I only said the stupid part to myself.

How humiliating in a tv-sitcom kind of way.

Letters to my Baby Boy - Week 21

Hello Sweet Potato,

Yup, we're back to the wonderful world of edible euphemisms for your size! But that's ok, I like sweet potatoes.

Your dad is off in Pennsylvania this week on his annual deer hunting trip. He keeps saying it's the last one, but I doubt it. Truth be told, I'm really enjoying the solitude. I played hookey from work yesterday to get some much-needed house cleaning done. There was so much to be done in preparation for winter, especially outside. So we hauled and put away and cleaned up and organized, and by two o'clock, I was totally out of steam. It's hard to remember sometimes that I can't just go and go and go like before. So we took a nap with the Woobie and Lola–well, I took a nap. You did gymnastics. It's nice having the bed all to myself. I've been experimenting with all those pillows I'm supposed to sleep on, and it's doing nothing.Nadaa. I'm not more comfortable at all.

How are we physically? Pretty darn good. The insomnia has let up, and I'm a lot more used to getting up frequently without really waking up...a good training habit, I'd think. I still have two complaints. My feet are KILLING me. My poor arches have collapsed again and it's really hard to spend more than an hour on my feet without pain. But that nothing compared to thesciaticc nerve pinch from Hell. Thank god it's not all the time. Like right now, at my desk at three in the afternoon? I'm just fine. It's only when I get up from sitting on the couch, or, worse, get up out of bed. Then I look like a crone hobbling towards her gingerbread oven. Owweeee. So, I'm going to try some prenatal massage therapy. Doesn't that sound good? Mmmm-mmmm.

Let's see. I've decided to decorate your room in "Starry Night" which is a really cool ark full of animals on a nighttime sea. It's made out of denim and I really like it. So naturally, it's on closeout, and I have to scramble to get all the pieces I want. There's this small-person-sized rocker that makes me want to weep, it's so cute. But at least it's forcing us to get a move on with your room. That will be so much fun. Except I can't paint, grrr. I bought a bunch of pieces and registered for the rest. Fingers crossed.

You and I went to have dinner Monday with the excellent Briggs/Heffernans. We talked garlic and babies and books. Nora and Briggs are feet taller than last time I saw them. They were very excited about you, and they've given you most of their baby furniture collection, which I could not be more grateful for. I'm most excited about the Pack'n'Play with a bag full of accessories, and a really nice swing and a crib! And that was only half the booty. Hurrah for Barbara and company. We love them.

I'm going to fess up to one of the more bizarre things I've done with regards to your upcoming arrival. I'm really wanting you and Murphy to be friends right off. Around small people, Murphy seems to be happy, but he got pretty anxious when he heard a friend's infant start to cry. So today I went online and downloaded a couple mp3s of babies crying to get him used to the sound. You might as well know right off that your mother tends to think too much.

Bringing you to work with me is still under discussion. The word is that people are 'getting used to the idea.' Apart from an outright go-ahead, this is about as good as we can hope for. I'm still very committed to the idea, and so I'm going to get back to work now. Besides, it's too hard to concentrate on this letter with you beginning your afternoon stroll.

Love you to pieces,

Mama