Sundries

The nausea continues, though it has already begun to merge with the heartburn of the second trimester. I spend much of the day interrupting my tasks, or interrupting the children’s interruptions, to lie very still and hope it passes.

I feel a growing sense of despair about the house. It will never be ready to show. We have been working on it during the moments the girls allow, but I do not have my usual energy, and nothing is done. Almost nothing. Az hates moving, and hates disturbances to his nest, so he is a reluctant and grudging worker. I ask him to do very little for the house; it just makes him too miserable. Instead he watches the kids so I can accomplish something (when I have the stomach for it), a necessary but familiar task that doesn’t ruffle his feathers so much.

My mother is a loving woman, but full of energy, and utterly lacking an internal censor. She has shifted into efficient control mode, which does not bode well for our living together. She calls me with lists of things she wants me to do, for the house, for school, for moving. It simply does not occur to her that she should not share with people her helpful ideas for their life. I find this exasperating and feel myself sinking back to the uncharitable sullenness of a teenager.

So I am nauseated, despairing and sullen, but my children are delighted with life. JellyBean has become very snuggly the last few weeks, and happily climbs into bed beside me, pulls the covers up around her and announces, “I am snuggling Mommy.” She has learned to use the words “love” and “beautiful” appropriately. Last night she walked up to Az and said, “You have a mustache. Daddy’s mustache is beautiful.” He melted.

It almost makes up for her frequent and public announcement that “Cookie monster ice cream cones make my poop blue!”

Sweetpea learns new words every day, her favorites currently being “spoon,” “door” and “boom.” She calls windows “bang-bang, ” because she gets to bang on them when Daddy comes home from work. All animals are “bunny” or “cat-cat,” and ketchup is “kabba-kup.” She gives the best nose crinkles when she is happy, and she has learned that if she stays awake during her sister’s nap, she will get mother’s exclusive attention. It’s tiring, but awfully cute.

Now I have to check the laundry. I am in that awful in between size of pregnancy, and have only two pairs of pants that fit, and they are both in the dryer. At least I can change out of my pajamas soon.