There is ghost movement that is becoming more insistent, less ghostly. I think I may be jumping the gun in terms of trying to feel it. This afternoon brings a visit to the midwives, and - almost more importantly - a couple of hours on my own, which I haven't had on a regular basis lately (our weekly sitter went on vacation and essentially quit, since Jonah will be in school when she gets back). After my checkup I get to shop for pull-ups. And baby books for a couple of new babies. Maybe I'll sneak in a cupcake.
Jonah's teachers came to our place on Monday for a home visit, something they are doing for all the kids who are new to school. It was wonderful how quickly Jonah warmed to them, and they quizzed him on the finer points of his train set. They asked if he liked Thomas(tm) and I had to step in and explain that he doesn't know who Thomas(tm) is, or really many other Kiddie Characters(tm). They claimed to be supportive of that but I wonder if they came away thinking I'm a crazy, overprotective socialist whacko mama. Perhaps I am. I hope I am?
Today brought my last visit to the botanical gardens with Jonah before the school year begins. We've developed a routine, going in the morning and spending a good couple of hours there, eating lunch in the cafe, then heading home for naptime. I burst into tears a couple of times, among the greenery, while Jonah rode in the stroller. I'll go back there without him while he's in school and with him other times, of course, but not like this. Not just the two of us, mama/baby unit exploring the water lilies and the pinecones together on a quiet weekday morning, with the lovely Irish gardener cooing over what a good, sweet boy he is. And I'll go there with the new baby, sure, as soon as it's warm enough. But I've always been a sucker for mourning and mooning over Last Times, and these crazy preggo hormones are aiding and abetting me.
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