Misdiagnosed

I think I'd better share with everyone the happy news of my misdiagnosis.

I am still pregnant (they were right on that account, and still right, as the kicking within asserts).

I do not, however, as far as midwife #2 and I can see, have PUPPPs. Only incredibly dry skin. Hallelujah. So everyone may now cease feeling pity for poor me, since I am not poor at all but own lots of Twinings English Breakfast Tea.

I have a sort of frenzied energy still, but in spurts, an energy that led me to reorganize kitchen cabinets and pull off pieces of wallpaper in our "butler's pantry" today. (Thinking it might be nice bright, traffic-cone orange.) Also I've taken to eating two smallish but not modest bowls of ice-cream every night: one dreamsicle orange and vanilla, one Dutch chocolate with peanuts. Martin kindly inquired whether I'd care for two spoons, but I limit myself to one. One spoon, two bowls.

My children are happy and sweet, Beatrix kicks but is not a nuisance, we read newly found Shirley Hughes books from the library all day and did not fall on our icy front steps. Looming recession or no, clementines were on sale and the tea kettle's water is almost free. The creek is frozen white, books fill our house, the mice are absent. I have, at the moment, no complaints at all. I hope you too enjoy all life's small happinesses this evening.

PS. Yes, the Elaine Society (our chapter, the only chapter named thus) has been officially launched. It is tons of fun and only goes to prove there is great strength in numbers (at least of people who like, for the most part, to be positive). One meeting down and a blog launched, we are on our way to tapping into the great energy which so often alludes full-time parents but which we all dream about and in our better moments achieve.