thoughts at....

I am 30 weeks pregnant and I still don't really understand why we measure pregnancies in weeks. Yeah yeah, weeks are more accurate than months because months don't always have the same number of days or full weeks in them. But when Jim at the office comes up to my desk and asks me how far along I am, and I respond with "29 weeks," I just get a blank smile while his mind tries to do the math. So then I have to try to do the math and end up convincing myself that I'm either having the baby next week, or will be pregnant until the end of the year. Wouldn't that be fun? 

And those are my thoughts at 30 weeks, aka 15 fortnights, aka 1,205 viewings of Lord of the Rings Return of the King. 

........

Harry and I get a little better at celebrating holidays and making a few traditions with each passing year. We could hardly remember our first Easter after we were married, and last year I quickly stuffed some popcorn behind his vinyls for him to hunt for. This year we went to Target because we like to support the local stores the day before Easter and split up to assemble each other's baskets. Our limit was $10 each. We both doubled that. budgeting win. 

Easter morning dawned bright and warm. I awoke to welcome the day and as I pirouetted towards the bedroom door, I beheld a trail of new ceramic measuring cups filled with Cadbury mini eggs leading me on an adventure. At the end of the trail was a basket with two cute new bowls that, in Harry's words, would be "perfect for yogurt."

***real story***
I woke up to the sound of paper and plastic grass rustling from the front room and looked out the window at the frozen land of the north. Groggily I started waddling into the front room. Harry quickly stopped me and demanded that I go into the bathroom and stay there. I sat on the toilet because where else are you going to sit in a bathroom?! for about 10 minutes, and only once I decided to make use of my time and shower did Harry release me from my prison. At that point I opened the bathroom door and beheld the trail of measuring cups and Cadbury eggs. The "perfect for yogurt" part of the story is true, and they are.

Harry is like the character Jack from "This Is Us" which if you are a participating member of society you have seen in that he always gifts better than I do. So while I will enjoy the memory of Easter morning each time I eat yogurt or berries from my new bowls or measure out a cup of milk for cookies, Harry can only enjoy his Easter basket for the amount of time it takes him to drink a bottle of chocolate milk. That time is currently set at about 27 seconds.

Now I'm off to do some snow angels.

peace and public libraries

rrww