Both of my mothers are right (refer to comments). Being in the same country WOULD help. Mothers ARE necessary for a good life. And I have been daydreaming wistfully of taking my children to my mother’s house and plopping on the couch for an hour or two a day. And I’ve been dreaming (literally) of going to South Africa.
Maybe we should all live in the same place. Now the only question is WHERE. South Africa? Southern California? Guam? 21st century migration surely has it’s downfalls.
I haven’t replaced my blog banner with a picture of us (despite Debbie’s pointed request) because we don’t have any pictures where all four of us are looking in the same direction. But I have now found a way. Family dog pile in front of a mirror with a camera on a timer. The only problem is that everybody likes to make faces at the mirror. But at least we’ll be looking in the same direction.
Had my first midwifery appointment today and all the kids (mine and Karen’s, whom she’d brought to play…much to Lia and Amelie’s joy and delight) came downstairs to listen to the baby’s heart beat. Karen says she often has a hard time finding the heartbeat with her little doppler until even 16 weeks sometimes. But immediately you could hear the little da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum. There IS a baby in there!
Spent a few hours in the garden this morning whilst Devo played tennis. Some days I think it’s cute that I have to plant extra of everything because my children (particularly Amelie) picks and tastes everything. Some days it makes me want to sit down and cry when my few green tomatoes have been picked and my new cabbage transplants uprooted and toted across the yard like baby dolls. (Is that where the idea for Cabbage Patch Kids came from? A frustrated parent?)
I was gratified, however, that she could not pick our only blooming rose because of the thorns. I’m thinking about putting in a bunch more roses.
I have this (pipe) dream that Devo is going to take off a bunch of time this week so that we can recover and recharge. Like tomorrow morning AND parts of the afternoon (he’s welcome to work while we’re napping). And Wednesday morning AND evening. And Thursday morning AND evening. And Friday afternoon AND evening. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll back out of the potluck on Sabbath. Oooooh.
But I haven’t told him this yet. Luckily he reads my blog. Hooray for clear marital communication!