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.