It's a ROCK

Jude started drawing people recently.  In this one, he first drew me (the circle inside the circle) and then Daddy (the circle around the circle that is me).  My head is actually inside of Daddy's head, which I found interesting. 

My hair is a blob to the far right of my scalp, and I have two to three eyes.  Daddy has no hair, but he does have eyes (far right).  

I don't know who is represented with the other circle, but whoever it is has earmuffs on, I think.

Here's another.

This was his second stab at portraiture.  It's me again, but with a red mohawk.  I love it.

Right before he drew this one he'd drawn a different one, but he wasn't happy with it.  First he announced he was about to draw me.  When he'd finished a jagged circle for my face, I asked, "Is that my head, Jude?"  He took a step back and said in frustration, "No, it's a ROCK."

Ever since then, if he draws a circle that he thinks is less than perfect, it is not someone's head.  It's a rock.  Remember that. 

The End

My new to-do list

Apparently this is what I shall be up to in the days ahead.  (It was made by Jono.)

Change

So tough.

Change. It's a beautiful word.

I took a phone call from my husband this past Monday.  You know what he said?  I'll tell you.

"I got the job."

Well, first he dilly-dallied around for awhile, asked me how my day at the office was going, blah, blah, blah (I could hear the good mood in his voice, and I know what a tease he is)... but then those words popped out, and I said, "You rascal, I knew it."

When we were hanging up, I said, "I love you.  But I loved you before, too."  He laughed.

This two-year unemployed, underemployed, back-to-school stint is almost over, just in time. 

Starting Monday, October 31, I will be going down to part-time work. I'll get to keep the part of my job I enjoy most: writing and editing a publication for the non-profit I've worked for since 2005.

I already have our first day-at-home planned. We're going out for breakfast. We're going to the zoo. I have a project list I plan to tackle while Jude is taking his afternoon nap. I have our first Real Meal from Scratch planned for that night.

I even agreed to iron Jono's work clothes for him.  I don't think I've ironed a man's dress shirt in my life.

Pardon my euphoria, but I won't be able to help the big fat smile I'll have on my face for the next week.  Or possibly month.  Yay.

Congratulations, Jono, and thanks.  (Love, your family)

P.S. A high five for Grandma Lehman, who donated nine hours a week of free childcare to us for two years.  You're awesome.  Enjoy your new "free" Fridays :)

Apples to Apples

Earth First Farms in Berrien, Michigan

Last weekend, we went to a Harvest Party at an organic orchard called Earth First Farms.  There was live music, free Mexican food prepared by the farm's employees, cider, beer and hayrides.  We picked a few of our own apples, but mostly dug through the seconds crates to find the imperfect ones for making pies and apple sauce.  

Mom and I spent a Wednesday night the following week furiously chopping and cooking apples, then smooshing them into sauce that we poured into old marinara-sauce jars I'd saved.  We froze about 38 quarts, and decided not to try that again after both of us had already put in a full day at the office.  We were delirious by the time we were saucing up the last batch at midnight.  Mom was hysterically laughing while I yelled.

Anyway.  Back to the orchard.

In the second photo, Jude is standing in a field and covering his eyes with his hands.  This was his way of "privately" doing his business.  What, you didn't think no one could see you when you covered your eyes as a kid?   

He met a little friend, too - Abram.  They threw hay at each other on the hayride and had a hat-tossing contest afterward.  When asked what he did at the orchard, he says, "I threw hay."

The weekend after that one we hit up another farm near Cadillac, Michigan with Jono's dad and step-mom, Jan.  Jude rode a pony for the first time and we tromped around in the pumpkin patch for awhile.

Though most of us weren't injured that day, Jan didn't leave the farm unscathed.  First she was bit by a donkey who we thought was trying to cuddle with her.  Even after the bite incident, she bravely escorted Jude into a giant blow-up pumpkin filled with screaming children... twice.

After the second time as the two of them crawled out of the entrance on their hands and knees, I laughed to see her hair flying everywhere and her dislodged headband sitting on top of her head like a crown.  She gets the Grandma of the Week Award, for sure.

You just can't cram in too many orchards and pumpkin farms in October, we don't think.  Especially when it's 70 degrees outside.

Last three photos by Jan Klooster (thanks, Jan!)

He wants to get OUT

Jude and I were reading one of those old Richard Scarry books last night (his greatest thrill is finding Goldbug on each page), and I couldn't help but be distracted by my other young one, who was catapulting himself from one side of my womb to the other.  I paused in my reading.

"Jude.  Do you see that?"  I pointed to my mid-section.

"Huh," he said, glancing in the direction of my finger.  His attention held just long enough to see my stomach sway dramatically from one side to the other like the waves of the sea.

"Oh, I saw him move!" Jude said.  His eyes were big, so I knew he had seen it and wasn't just saying so.

"That's your baby brother."

He took another hesitant look at my belly.  "That baby brudder wants to get OUT," he proclaimed, with authority in his miniature voice.

I pictured Jude picturing a baby boy in there, all smooshed and claustrophobic, and how he must have had a twinge of empathy for him before he made the comment.

It's true, he's already cramped, but not so much that it has been deterring his movements yet.  Lately I've been filming my stomach when he really gets going, and it looks like one of those blow-up castles with 20 children inside.

I remember saying this of Jude as well, but I would guess K2 is even more active than he was.  Folks sitting across the room from me can see my abdomen shifting back and forth.  I've been sitting in staff meetings with one of my arms resting over top of my stomach, and he'll kick it so hard my arm jumps and falls into my lap.  People probably think I have a twitching disorder.

Though I find it hard to concentrate/sleep/ breathe these days with the three-ring circus going on inside of me, I'm hoping it's a good sign he's robust and healthy.  Preferably developing a few leg rolls.  Perhaps a fat bracelet.  I've put in my order for those, so we'll see what happens.  I have eight weeks left.

Considering the advent of Jude "Chicken Legs" Klooster almost three years ago at 6 pounds 10 ounces, I know I can't count on it, but one can dream.  If he's a little scrawny at first, I'll try not to complain if he wants to eat all night long.  (But I probably will, anyway.)

Love,
E.