Gestational logorrhea: 24 weeks

I am now housing a baby the length of an ear of corn (or, given my propensity to gestate giants, perhaps an ear and a half). When it moves, sometimes I can see it, as well as feel it - comical little burbles under the skin of my bump. All is good and happy in Bellyland, from what I can tell. I'm in the sweet spot of the 2nd trimester, not yet worried about swelling ankles or decreased mobility or killer heartburn.

The week in Toddlerville has been less serene. Monday morning, on my way back from dropping off some paperwork pertaining to Jonah's evaluation (a complex process with tight deadlines, which has to be complete in a matter of a couple of weeks), I got the type of phone call I'd been dreading since he started school, notifying me that he'd gotten his thumb pinched in a door and they weren't sure if it was broken. I went right over and found him bawling, his wails the only noise in an otherwise silent classroom, all the other kids staring at him and me. My heart hurt - he'd never gotten such a bad injury, and I wasn't there to try to prevent it. All part of the normal process of letting him grow and learn on his own, to be sure, but a goddamn painful part of that process. After I got him out of school, he was calmer, happy enough to eat a chocolate chip cookie from his favorite cafe... but then we had to go see the doctor.

He does well in the waiting room, of course, because there's a train to play with, and books. The moment he steps into the exam room (or really, the moment they call him in), he is like a demon spawn. Which was OK when we went to get his H1N1 vaccine and Josh was there to help me, but on this day I was solo, increasingly protruding belly, and a flailing, wrestling, screaming, injured boy. The nurse attempted to be helpful by taking him from me, but then she told him he had to be careful or he'd "hurt the baby." She also threatened that if he didn't cooperate he'd have to go to the hospital. Neither of which were particularly helpful statements to make, nor did they do much to calm Jonah down. Finally the doctor came in and Jonah's screaming became more of a wail, but at least I was holding him again. He was still uncooperative, though, so we got referred to a specialist in Chinatown (the nearest place to go that day) for an x-ray. Another bright spot - the subway ride. And Josh met us at the specialist's office so I didn't have to go it alone, also helpful since due to my condition, I couldn't be in the room when they did the x-ray. No crying, screaming, or carrying on, and best of all, no broken bone. The rest of the afternoon was spent either napping or whining, but I tried to cut him lots of slack given the trauma he'd been through.

Yesterday, after school (never a good time to do anything, since he's usually exhausted and in need of a nap), I had to take him for an audiology assessment, which I presented to him as "a listening game inside a phone booth." He was intrigued, until we got to the site, staffed by a number of enormous Orthodox women wearing all black clothes. He took a look at them and was immediately terrified, but then, he was terrified of the slim, attractive receptionist as well. It took some doing to get him into the booth, but strangely enough, once the door was shut and he focused on the toys in there, it went very well. And there was nothing at all wrong with his hearing. He fell asleep on the way home in the car, so I parked and let him nap, which was great until some asinine middle schoolers walked by screaming their heads off. He woke up in a foul mood, and I'd parked a distance from the house, so he walked home crying in the rain in his red rain boots and oversized yellow slicker, bruising my already broken heart.

The payback for all this was yesterday evening, when the stars aligned, we all ate dinner together, and Josh assembled Jonah's new big boy bed. We'd mentioned it on and off for weeks, and it turns out Jonah was quite excited about the prospect. He even bounded over to Josh during the assembly and said, "Can I step on your workspace?", an appropriation of school jargon that he'd never used at home. Jonah wanted to get into pajamas immediately and read books in his new bed, and he went to bed easily, and even did reasonably well for a first go at "sleep without bars." All of this was arnica salve on my soul, an ice cream sundae in my belly. Sweet relief.

Gestational logorrhea: 23 weeks

OK, after that lull in posts I'm sure my readership has dwindled down to the bare essentials. (Oh wait, it was there already.) A lot has happened lately. I got over my sadness about the need to evaluate Jonah, temporarily went insane observing his aberrant behavior (because once someone spots something, suddenly you think everything is amiss), but got over it in time to enjoy our trip to San Francisco more than I ever thought possible. Travel with a toddler is exhausting, and while Jonah's head didn't literally explode, I think we overwhelmed him with so many activities in such a short time. He only talks about one or two of the things we did, not all 8,000. Which is fine - you don't travel with a 2-year-old and expect them to remember everything, or else you'll go mad. Even though we had no means of going out alone in the evenings, it was just as well, because by 9 p.m. we were done for and ready to sleep. We ate and ate, drank good coffee, and enjoyed many scenic uphill and downhill trips in the car.

The baby is starting to get more assertive, now that it is the size of a large mango (or thereabouts). I can feel it moving on a regular basis, and there are certain stimuli that consistently rouse it to move: loud music, loud older brother, or other voices nearby. In the morning I like lying in bed and feeling the kicks, goofy grin on my face. But I am not yet able to visualize this thing emerging from me, or where we are going to put it, exactly. However, I am pleased to report that I (and it) are now vaccinated against both H1N1 and seasonal flu.

After the trip I spent about a week recalibrating my system, and then suddenly my nesting instinct kicked into gear (which it never did with Jonah). I actually made a to-do list this week. And I actually did: go through Jonah's closet, empty a very tall & dangerous shelf in his room that we need to get rid of, sort through baby clothes (where did all the staples go? looks like I just kept the "cute" things), and did some research on which mattress to buy for his Big Boy Bed, which we're buying tomorrow at IKEA. I'm apprehensive that his sleep will go to shit once he's in a bed that he can climb out of, but he's much too tall for the crib and it's getting a little treacherous when he doesn't want to be there (e.g. at 6:15 AM). I also hit the gym twice this week, and did yoga today. I cooked a fabulous dinner which yielded two days worth of leftovers. I made contact via Facebook with an Italian author whose work I have long admired, and hinted that I would love to translate his work. I'm exhausted just thinking about all I did, and wondering when this energy is going to dissipate.

During the round robin at the start of yoga class each woman tells how many weeks she is, and any aches or pains she's having. Knock wood, no aches/pains here (save for gym-inflicted ones), and thankfully, no swollen ankles yet. I hope this blissful injury-free state isn't going to change on a dime.