The Joys of Dorkiness

So, I'm pulling out of the Chili's parking lot (the baby was demanding a molten chocolate cake), and I'm imagining telling The Huz about my doctor's visit and having the conversation in my head about what I wanted to tell him about my weight gain and how I'm getting close to my personal limit, and I was getting all worked up about my unhappiness about gaining 3 pounds this month, even though I know it's not that much, and I am totally talking out loud, as if The Huz is there in the car with me, because that's how I roll, right? So, I'm backing up, and I realize all at the same time that not only am I using facial expressions, emphasizing words and USING HAND GESTURES, but I'm also being stared at by a dude with his girlfriend/wife, whom, I realize, has been staring for longer than a second, and thinking that I have lost my damn mind. For some reason, I was so embarassed that I cared what Someguy thought that I TOTALLY put my hand up to my ear, as if I were wearing a Bluetooth, and kept talking, as if I WEREN'T crazy, and had been actually on the invisible phone the whole time and it was all cool and whatevs, dude, so quit staring. I'm pretty sure I even laughed breezily at something "The Huz said". I scare myself. Your turn. Please.

I've been avoiding putting up an update

because not everyone knew about our news! However, my sweet mother is so excited that as of last week, pretty much everyone that would read this in my real life has been informed that we are expecting a third babe, and now that the shock and awe has (mostly) worn off, we are getting pretty excited! The Huz just got back from a three day trip out of town for work, and I got quite overwhelmed wondering how I would handle three small people all on my own in times like that. But, I remember two years ago, being terrified about adding a second child, and wondering how I could possibly be a good mom to two kids at the same time, and my boys seem fairly content, so I keep hanging on to the idea that we'll figure it out the same way.

Since this was quite the surprise, we don't have an exact date for the arrival, like we did for the boys, which is quite the challenge for a person who already struggles with anxiety. It's been a battle to let that go and remember that the baby will arrive when s/he is supposed to, and we do know within a few days, at least, when the conception happened, but I like to know Exactly When That Was, so I'm learning in this journey, too, as often happens. Funny how that is. We plan to find out the gender, but since I'm only 10 weeks along, we have time until then. I've been knitting tiny things like crazy, and my first pair of longies seem giant for a newborn, but may fit a one-year-old, so they may go in the drawer for a long while! Knitting newborn pants is much faster than knitting something for Baby Taz, that's for sure (pictures coming soon to show off my new yarn)!

Anyway, when we first went in to confirm the pregnancy and that it was viable and healthy, and get dates, it was just a few days too early to see a heartbeat, so all we saw was the embryo as a white spot inside of the gestational sac, so baby's nickname became Spot, and has stuck with him or her, ergo, when I reference Spot, it will be the little guy growing in there and making me sick all day long (hopefully not for much longer!). Spot's due on Sir H's birthday, on 12/31, and we'll see how that pans out when we get close, my best guess will be that the arrival will be a few days before that, because I think the conception was actually two days before, and I think I will follow the pattern I've set with the boys: Sir H was birthed at 40w6d, Baby Taz at 40w1d, and I think this one will be either 40w1d or 40w on the dot (or spot, heh).

Feel free to make gender and birthdate predictions, love to hear them!

Yarny Goodness

I'm making some slippers out of this delicious yarn. I'm so not a slippers girl, but I have Reynaud's Syndrome, a fancy name for my-toes-go-numb-and-lose-feeling-at-random-times-mostly-when-cold. So, I fell in love with these little guys. You know you're jealous.

I've finished the actual shoes, and it took me about 4 tries to figure out the attached I-cord, but I finally got it. I ditched her directions and used my own, and we'll see...pictures will come when I am finished!

Stifling One's Laughter In Order to Appear Disciplinary

I just had to tell Sir H to "go back to bed" for the forty-eleventh time tonight, and he walked away, kicked at the floor and muttered, "That's the most ridic-yee-lus thing I've ever heard."

April

So I've been knitting like crazy, it keeps me from killing people. Or poking them with sharp sticks. So far, I have refrained from poking small people (or the large one) with the needles. Cross your fingers that I will continue in that successful vein.

In other news, I took my first pictures of my products for my Etsy shop, which is currently empty, but exists, at henryandco.etsy.com. I'm really looking forward to doing some business again. I've missed it.

Oh, and quick note - Sir H is still royalty, but The Bear has more than earned his new appelation...Baby Taz. As in the Tasmanian Devil from Looney Tunes. He is a whirling dervish, and makes quite the hilarious noises and "talking" that is remarkably like the baby version on the Baby Looney Tunes version.

Well, butter my biscuit and call me Sally...

Uncle R. was only 64. That's just astounding. That's so young! The Huz is in Chicago for the wake and funeral. I was going to go, we were trying to figure out how to juggle the kiddos, maybe take The Bear, since I can still carry him as a lap child, and fly back the same day, but then I found out it was an open casket. *gulp*

I'm not skeeved out by death, I believe in a wonderful afterlife, and that death is merely the beginning of the rest of our eternity, but I'm not particularly interested in sitting in the same room with Uncle R's body for 6 hours for a wake. Uh-uh. That clinched it for me. So, The Huz is there, we're here and missing him, and hoping that the family is able to grieve and find peace in the joy of Uncle R's life.

Rest in Peace, Dear Uncle R.

We lost a wonderful person on Saturday. The Huz's only uncle, to whom he felt very close, and his mother's only living relative besides a distant cousin, died after a few weeks of illness. He has lived for a long time with many different ailments, so his 72 years were truly a miracle, especially that he was able to continue to work, travel and do all the other things he loved. Uncle R. was truly a bright light in the world, and our lives will be a bit dimmer without his presence.

Wherever he went, he left a trail of smiles around him. He constantly poked fun at himself, but never joked at the expense of others. He always had a kind word to say to those around him. I literally cannot count the number of times he said my children were "lucky to have such a wonderful mother". How could you not love him? He was a handsome man, in a goofily endearing type of way. He had white grey hair, with a bulbous nose and a slight lisp, a heavily Chicagoan accent, and shuffled everywhere he went. He was extremely comfortable in his own skin, and it wasn't unusual to hear his feet shuffling into the kitchen at 10 pm for his midnight snack (since he went to bed at 6 pm), sneaking a sugary snack behind his sister's back (his personal food police), and then hearing a fart escape and him remarking, "Hmmm...must have stepped on a frog or something..." and then his feet shuffling back to the bedroom.

He was up for any adventure, and for his 70th birthday, he treated us to a vacation in Hawai'i, where we were able to enjoy a week of Uncle R's presence and geniality and good humor and leave relaxed and refreshed. Watching the close relationship between he and his sister, my mother-in-law, made me long for a brother, and reminded me of the importance to call my sister as soon as I got back home.

He was an avid collector of art, and since he was a humble man, I walked into his 3-story Riverside home, after knowing him for 6 years, to find that his walls were lined with original Picassos, Monets, Cassatts and numerous other works by Huge Names and local artists, just hanging on the wall in a home without any sort of special climate control or lighting. Around every corner was a new find, staying there was like living in the novel From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler for three days.

His life partner, T., not often spoken of in The Huz's family, due to their unspoken agreement to ignore Uncle R's predilection to The Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name, was a kind and quiet man, and the two of them enjoyed decades of a fulfilling life of shared interests while allowing each other freedom to pursue their own travels and hobbies. It was truly a relationship to admire.

We will miss you, Uncle R. We love you very much, and will always remember your kindness, your humor and your smile.