Be NICE

Elspeth's favorite activity these days is playing in a shallow, large bin of beans, which she makes into soups and landslides her little people under. In a bid to gain some peanuts for her bean soup this morning (one of endless "cooking" experiments), Elspeth admonished, "Be NICE," which she has clearly heard us say, as well as "No. I said NO."

I should heed her advice, though, when it comes to my end-of-pregnancy obsession, which is ice-crunching. I dread my dentist's appointment post-Beatrix. But I can't seem to help myself--a freezer door opens and I'm suddenly stuffing myself with ice, crunching down the stuff with dispatch, regardless of my crowned and weak teeth. The smell of our car's air-conditioning and freezer burn sends me round the bend with desire. So far I've suffered from aching teeth and sore cheeks from where I've chomped into my numb mouth. Yesterday was heaven--IKEA has the most wonderful, soft, chewy ice. I walked around the store in a daze, eating the perfect little nuggets like popcorn. Oh, and my hair is getting curlier and I swear it's turning white around my temples. Hormones. What wonderful things.

Well, Merry's recouperating from a cold and besides my mother's much lauded arrival and the fact Martin and I actually went out for a DATE yesterday (and not the raiseny kind, a real one), there's nothing terribly interesting to share this morning except that I finally folded some clean baby clothes for Beatrix--and she must have known what I was doing (and that her grandmother has finally arrived), since she rewarded me with a good set of nice contractions that tapered off as the morning progressed. Surely she's close? It's really a bit of a bore, this not knowing the schedule. I do want to get all the hospital over with and just be back home with our family again. I realized that the excitement of the rush to the hospital, the labor process, the charm and dizziness of having a new baby and nurses and nurseries has paled now by the third. Now I want to just pop in, get the process over with, and get on with life.

Wonderful birds have begun to perch on the bare walnut tree outside my window again--a robin, a blue jay, all soft and bosomy and bursting with spring. Sunshine streams in our windows again, and it is not dark anymore when we sit down to supper. Martin has gone absolutely drooly-gaga with spring fever. Every time we see bricks on the side of the road he all but derails the car from the highway. I will have to post his amazing garden plans soon.

PS. Oh, I don't suppose anyone cares to cook a turkey for me? I have to get the thing out of my freezer; I can barely stand the smell of roasting meat; and I'm half afraid I'll suck the bird dry of freezer burn before I even get it in the oven. We could split the fellow. . .