ALERT: Jackspeak

Just before naptime, after finishing another reading of Where the Wild Things Are . . .

Jack: "Mom, I think Max didn't know where he was going in the boat."

Me: "I think you're right. He didn't know where he was sailing, and he just sailed and sailed until he ran into the wild things. I would be a little scared if I ran into the wild things, all alone in my boat."

"Yes. I would be a little scared, too. But Daddy wouldn't be scared."

"I bet he wouldn't. He would know just what to do."

"Yes. Daddy would know just what to do. He would kick their butts."

The nine-month birthday bash

This may be the last birthday cake I buy. Until it's someone's birthday, anyway.

Everyone's heard about pregnancy cravings for pickles and ice cream. Now, 38 weeks into baby growing, I wish I had longed for those two items along the way. Compared to eating a store-bought birthday cake a week (give or take), the pickles/ice cream calorie count is similar to consuming seaweed.

But that's exactly what I've been doing. Eating a store-bought birthday cake a week (give or take). The boys have helped a little. But not much.

I start each fresh, new birthday cake by carefully cutting a medium-sized slice, putting it on a plate like civilized people do, and eating it. By the time half the cake is gone I've succumbed to the eating habits of an animal on the African plains. Just leave the thing dead on that slab of golden cardboard and let me have at it. (In my defense, however, I do use a fork. Every time.)

My pregnancy with Jack was no different. I did the same thing--downed about one birthday cake a week. Back then, at a La Leche League meeting, I admitted to having an insatiable craving for store-bought birthday cakes. The meeting leader said the craving was probably my body and my baby telling me I needed more fat in my diet. I felt so validated. Then she gently reminded everyone that there were lots of fats out there to choose from that were much, MUCH better for you.

Hmm. Hadn't thought about that. But the "fat" from an avacado just doesn't cut it when your tummy is telling you to feast on frosting. Pink! Yellow! Purple! Blue! Orange! Frosting!

I'm ashamed to admit how many times I've tried to grab a birthday cake from the store bakery on the sly, only to have a bakery employee catch me and ask, "Do you need me to write something on that?" Each time I've said, "No, thank you. It's just for me." But don't think for one minute I haven't considered dreaming up an extra-long first name just to get a bit more frosting out of the deal. (Jack's latest made-up superhero name, "Elektrasenity," comes to mind. Happy Birthday, Elektrasenity!)

Brett bought the last birthday cake, above. He even called me from the grocery store to explain what kind of frostings were available so he didn't bring home the wrong thing. Even though he's seen the beach balls that now make up my behind, he bought me a birthday cake. I feel so loved.

So soon, very soon, I will say goodbye to birthday cakes. GOODBYE. When our family of four begins its first day together, I will break free from your sticky, sugary hold on me. I WILL.

How will I do it, you ask? I'm sure it will be easy, as long as I keep this in mind: between family, friends, neighbors, acquaintances, and celebrities, there's always another birthday just around the corner.

A special note: Thanks to those who entered this little contest to win a free copy of The Little Box of Baby Quilts! The winner is Denise from Warminster, Pennsylvania. Thank you, Denise, for your kind comment--hope you enjoy the patterns!

ALERT: Jackspeak

At dinner last night . . .

Jack: "Mom, we should get maca-green beans at the grocery store."

Me: "Huh?"

"Maca-green beans."

"What are maca-green beans?"

"They look like green beans, but they taste like macaroni and cheese."

Superheroic stitching

It took me just about a month (!) but, while waiting for our Tie-Dye to arrive, I finally found some see-it-through stamina to start and finish something by hand. The idea started here. In the end the project turned out like this:

The arms of Jack's hand-drawn superhero were too wide to fit anywhere on his feety jammies, so we came up with the jeans idea instead. Jack chose the colors of perle cotton to use. He now believes it's better to grant special powers to his DAYTIME clothes instead of his sleeping clothes, anyway. He no longer has to limit his save-the-world abilities to home or to nighttime anymore. He'll get to save the world at preschool and the grocery store, too.

Jackman with Batman and the Joker.

And just in time to save us from yet another attack of cold-weather cabin fever, our local library recently hosted a very special night: "A Night of Superheroes." That's where we picked up the downright creepy mask featured in the photo above. You might think Jack looks happy in the picture--but check out how ecstatic he was to be at the library on that special night:

Airplane jammies, my striped winter gloves, the handmade cape, and a new mask. For my boy, life just doesn't get better than this, folks.

The superhero sewing may be the last crafty project I tackle before the baby is born. I'm happy with it. It's like a little makeshift heirloom to smile about a few years from now, when Tie-Dye wears them for the first time. (I can hear myself in three years: "Yes, it's a hand-me-down, Tie-Dye, but it has special hand-me-down powers!")

I'm guessing Tie-Dye will love the power boost he'll get when he puts on these pants in the future. If only I could fit in them, too . . . I could use a power boost of any kind these days.

ALERT: Jackspeak

Walking out of the sun and into the shade of a two-story Toys 'R Us store . . .

Jack: "Ooooh, Mommy. It got cold. It's cold and windy."

Me: "Yep, the shade makes things a lot colder, doesn't it?"

"Yes. It's really, really cold. It's like where the penguins live."

Still pregnant. Still whining.

After ten days of me, my son, and my husband taking turns being sick, I've decided that this pregnant thing is getting old. There is still the one joy to look forward to--the baby--which keeps me upbeat enough to endure. But I am ready to be done with the rest of the experience.

The rest of the experience includes:

1. Making mammoth efforts to pick up things with my feet when I drop them to avoid bending over. I drop a lot of things these days. I can pick up socks, wrappers, superhero figurines, envelopes, magazines, kitty treats, pens, and shoes with my feet. I cannot pick up bottles of lotion, bananas, cameras, my purse, hardcover books, or water bottles with my feet. Not for lack of trying.

2. Sharp, shooting pains to . . . everywhere. Accompanied by grunts and groans that would annoy a gorilla.

3. Bouncing Jack's poor little head off my belly like he's the tennis ball and I'm the racket. It happens whenever we are standing a few inches away from each other and we're both trying to get from a point A to a point B. He's the perfect height to ricochet off my tummy several times a day. Sorry, Jacky McBoing Boing.

4. Desperately wishing that I won't, but knowing in my gut that I am going to hit 200 pounds before this baby is born. I'm wearing my wedding rings on a chain around my neck. I've outgrown my maternity clothes twice. My SOCKS feel tight. If I'm wearing jeans and I'm walking fast, I'm afraid I'll start a friction fire. My ears have gained weight. A few weeks ago Jack touched my emerging third chin and asked, "Mommy, what IS this?" You get the idea.

5. Uncontrollably peeing my pants every time I cough, sneeze, laugh, or make any other sudden moves. We were recently visiting our new niece at the hospital and Brett said something that started me laughing. I couldn't stop. I peed my way from the hallway to the nearest bathroom. I dropped my purse OUTSIDE the bathroom door and shed my coat on the bathroom floor to make it to the potty on time. I did not make it on time, however. I had to sit on said coat for the duration of the drive home to avoid more of a mess. Kegels have been a bit of a help, but they did nothing for me that night. Ever had someone ask you what your most embarrassing moment was? This one ranks pretty high on my list.

Two weeks left? Five? Seven? Who knows? Tie-Dye, you go on and choose your birthday. Heck, take your time. I'll wait. But you've got to know something about your mama, straight out of the gate. I'll tolerate just about anything. I just won't tolerate it quietly.

Go on, ask Daddy and Jack. They'll tell ya.

Details, details . . . and a contest to boot

I think it's time to offer another contest to win a copy of my book (but actually, it's a box), The Little Box of Baby Quilts. You might recall my first giveaway post here. Today's little contest is much the same--superhero style. I say, why not keep up the theme? It's obviously a daily topic at our house.

Jack's latest creative endeavors involve conjuring up his own superheroes. He calls them "different superheroes." He gives them "different" names like Conky and Chawa and Booly. I don't recall what name he ended up giving this creation, but he asked me to take a photo of his first costume draft:

A "different" superhero for sure, but it wasn't quite right . . .

Jack looked at the photo I took on the digital-camera screen, and then quietly disappeared into his bedroom. He returned with two slight modifications to his costume:

Aaah, yes--see the confident swagger now? The latest superhero look is complete!

So, the contest questions are:

1) What superhero accessory did Jack add?
2) What superhero accessory did Jack change?

Leave your answers in a comment by Sunday, March 16. I'll print them out and Jack can choose a random winner from the entries received. If Jack chooses your comment, I'll send you a signed copy of the "little box" as a thank you. (If you like, I can even slip in a drawing and a note from Jack. But be warned--they will likely be superhero, not quilt, related.)

If you'd like to see some of my quilt designs from the "little box," you can view several in this photo gallery. Happy superhero searching and baby quilting, everyone!