Rainy days and pomegranates.

Today is so, so, so, so rainy.  Like typhoon rain maybe?  I’m not actually sure what’s going on but the winds and rain all night long have blown down all of our leaves–you can’t even see the driveway.  It is positively covered in leaves (I feel like that sentence should be said with an English accent.).  And this is day two (or three?  They’re all blending together.) of rain.  It’s only 9 am and Parker has done painting, play dough, and a tackle-session with Steve who has since rushed out the door to work.  At 7 when Parker cuddled into our bed, it was nearly pitch black outside.  What is happening?  Steve said it’s “apocalyptic”.  I’m not apt to generally believe his nonsense, but he does teach religion.  So maybe he’s right.

The days lately have been easy, aside from the occasional lethargy one feels at the end of their pregnancy, I guess.  Parker and I have a really nice thing going, on the nice weather days especially.  We head into town, he plays on the playground, we look at the Halloween decorations, maybe grab a coffee for me or a yogurt for him, chat about “our baby.”  We go to the library, fill our book bag.  It’s been smooth and simple and I’m really enjoying it.  I’m not overdoing plans.  Is this what hibernating looks like?  

Most nights, as long as they’ve finished their homework, William, Lindsey, Steve and I watch an episode of Modern Family.  We only recently introduced William and Lindsey to it and they think it’s hilarious.  Phil, mostly.  Cam too.  While we’re lounging across the couch, me taking more than my share of space, I beg for foot rubs, even pay William $5 to scratch my back.  It’s pathetic.  We eat some Haagen Dazs ice cream, cereal, or pomegranates.  The last one is mostly for me.  I am obsessed with them this pregnancy.  Like I dream in pomegranates.  The other day I opened one up, foolishly, while Parker was awake and sort of needing my help?  I was like, “Kid, you are on your own for the next hour.  I just opened a pomegranate.”  Do you remember the skit Ellen does with the go-gurt?  I always think of that when I have my pomegranate, split in front of me.  But, unlike yogurt, pomegranates really do have you down for the count.  I come upon them in their enormous cardboard box at the grocery store like they’re surrounded by angelic light and singing to me.  I just love them.  I have to end this post so I can go eat one.

I spent most of last Saturday unpacking Parker’s clothes and baby clothes.  I have the closet organized now now, each shelf with some rhyme and reason, and can sleep a little better at night.  This baby’s onesies will not be quite as white as Parker’s were (breast milk spit up really does a number on things) but he will not go naked!  I’m glad to have gotten that out of the way.

*pictures of Parker and I torturing each other while he watches Sprout.  His eye contact is barely broken with the television, despite it.  Such determination!  Now I’m going to go take a cue from yesterday’s post and do something with my face.  Black and white filters can only do so much.