71 Weeks

I have been pregnant for 71 weeks of my life. Lord. It’s enough. Still, I’ll be going for nine more. I like a nice, round number and a nice, round baby.

Friday I went for my checkup and my OB asked me what I was thinking about birth control. I looked over at Damon and said, “I’m waiting for him to get his vasectomy because I am DONE.” (An original declaration from a woman in her third trimester, I know.) She seemed unconvinced and asked if I was really sure. That surprised me, considering that I’m 38, which I believe conventional maternal medicine views as approximately ‘late for the crypt.’

I asked her how long past the actual vasectomy we’d have to wait before we could consider ourselves good to go for repercussion-less sex and she said, “Well, it’s not so much a matter of time as number of ejaculations. You have to clear out the storehouse. So, it could be very fast or it could be months. It depends, you know…” She seemed truly entertained when I said, “Honey! You could knock it out in a week if you really put your mind to it!”

It’s all academic, because right now you could easily get me to promise that I’m nevernevernever having sex again. (Another fresh angle from the late pregnancy perspective!)

Alden was captivated by hearing the baby’s heartbeat. When the doctor took the doppler away he went over and touched her leg. She looked down at him he said, “Brother? Go get?” (He talks like Yoda these days.)

I’m typing this while I watch the finale of American Idol. From this year. Really. Don’t tell me who wins! I heard the rumor that Danny Gokey may be on Dancing With the Stars next season. I can’t tell you how happy that would make me.

The saga of the cinnamon roll:

We went to our favorite family restaurant this afternoon — The Tomato Head. I spotted fresh, from-scratch cinnamon rolls on the menu and ordered one right up. It came along with our lunch and to save my life I could not wheedle, trick or compel Alden to try it. He put one finger on that sticky icing and said, “Nay!” I spent the whole lunch darting my hand in to rub icing on his lips, eating bits myself and miming rapture, waving it under his nose for the cinnamon scent… My low point was when I ripped it up to look just like the tofu cubes he was scarfing and when that failed, I tried putting it on his pizza.

I don’t know what my problem was.

Cinnamon rolls are just SO GOOD. I couldn’t let it go.

Finally, finally, at the end of lunch, after he’d eaten every black bean on the table, he tentatively popped a little piece in his mouth. His eyes got bright and wide and he excitedly bit down, without taking his finger out of his mouth. Many tears followed and we all agreed to just go home and take a nap.

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10 responses to this post.

  1. Tell the man I got my nads snipped a bit after the boys were born, no muss, no fuss. Dental work is much worse.

    Reply

  2. Tell the man I got my nads snipped a bit after the boys were born, no muss, no fuss. Dental work is much worse.

    Reply

  3. I, m’self, wouldn’t mind if you had three or four more, since the one you have already is so cute.

    Reply

  4. I, m’self, wouldn’t mind if you had three or four more, since the one you have already is so cute.

    Reply

  5. Awesome, thank you. I will share that, exactly.

    Reply

  6. My mom says if I’d started earlier I’d be one of those women with six kids. Mayhaps. Alden thanks you for the compliment.

    Reply

  7. Tell Alden I said quack quack ding ding.

    Reply

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