Gestational logorrhea: 31 weeks

I thought of changing the format of my post titles to a negative countdown, but given how these things go that's a little, um, premature? (Sorry.) I have no way of knowing if I'll give birth right on time, or if this baby will sit tight for two weeks past the due date, disqualifying me from the birthing center and driving me insane with its reluctance to leave the womb.

This week has been a crazy quilt of birthday celebrations (mine, which I unsuccessfully tried to sweep under the rug, and Jonah's, which culminates in a crazy kiddie party at our house on Sunday which we're nowhere near ready for), and Chanukah. This has been the longest Chanukah in memory - it seems to have lasted a month. Now that Jonah is in school with Jews the holiday is even more heightened. But I was glad to hear from his teacher that when they polled the kids about what they liked about Chanukah, Jonah did not mention presents - instead, he mentioned Chanukah-specific foods, latkes and jelly doughnuts (neither of which he has ever actually tasted since he is finicky beyond belief). But yes, nice to hear that the presents are not the focus for him. We are awash in presents here and his big birthday party hasn't even happened yet.

I've floundered this week between complete sloth and frenetic running around trying to hit my marks (getting the party favors bought, balloons ordered, to do lists drafted and revised). I tried hitting the gym on Wednesday but it left my butt so sore I don't know whether that is something I ought to do on a regular basis. My checkup this week showed that I gained 9 pounds in two weeks, which I do not doubt given the preposterous eating I've been doing. Going to try to reign it in a bit, now that the festivities are abating.

I bought a childbirth book, Ina May's Guide to Childbirth, written by the sacred cow of midwives, Ina May Gaskin, who operates from a commune in Tennessee. I'm finding it hilarious and informative, with chapters entitled things like "Sphincter Law." Let's say that this book is going to prepare me for childbirth, even though nothing you read really can, and even having been through it before doesn't help, since this is a different baby. The midwife felt around and said the head is down, which is encouraging, because I don't expect this very tall baby to have much room to turn a somersault at this point. She also told me not to worry about birthing a big baby, because my pelvis has been "tested for nine pounds." Makes me sound like a piece of precision machinery.

I really don't want to post anymore broody chest-beating stuff about being the mom of a 3 year old, but it's inevitable. I think the Terrible Twos moniker was probably invented by the same branding firm that decided Greenland would be a great name for a solid block of ice. It's Three that you really have to watch out for. As a mom on my online forum said recently, the problem with three is that they can sound so rational. So far Jonah seems to be approaching 3 by regressing to 1, getting in a tizzy because he "can't!!!!!!!!" take off his pants (even though the vigorous flailing around he does while saying this usually does the job for him) and absolutely doesn't want to go to school, and doesn't want his diaper changed under any circumstances. We've never gotten into any real jam with him - not like some parents I've heard who have to take their naked children out into freezing temperatures to convince them to get dressed, or whatever - but I guess we're spoiled, so the small stuff makes us sweat.

There are always rewards, though - this morning I almost had to wrestle him into his clothes, making threatening noises about how he'd miss his birthday celebration at school if he didn't get dressed. But when he was all ready to go, he reached for me and pulled me into the most fabulous hug and murmured what he usually does when he's being affectionate: "I'm holding you!" Oh, to bottle that up for the lean times.