The Most Pregnant I've Ever Been, Part II

Thirty-eight weeks!  Can you believe it?  Last week, my midwife was trying to schedule more testing.  I said, "Oh, surely I won't still be pregnant.  Let's not worry about it."  "Ok," said she.  She's going to laugh at me a lot when I show up for my regularly scheduled appointment tomorrow.

See you next week?

The Most Pregnant I've Ever Been

Here I am at 37 weeks pregnant.  Since Frances was born at 36 weeks, that makes this The Most Pregnant I've Ever Been.

We are very excited not to be having a preemie, I must say.  Frances wasn't a hard baby, but I'm looking forward to a baby that wants to consume calories.  Seems like a plus in the weight-gain department.  I'm doing twice weekly tests, either non-stress tests or ultrasounds, and everything looks great.  Basically, it's just a waiting game at this point.

MLK Day at the Museum of Fine Art

The Museum of Fine Art had an open house on MLK Day.  Free admission for all!  We took advantage of it, along with half of Boston.  Mark enjoyed the art, but Frances enjoyed the kids activities.  One activity asked the kids to trace their hands, cut out their hands, mix paint from primary colors to match their skin tone, paint their hands and tape their hands to a mural of the city.  We did our best.

Tracing....

I may have helped with the cutting.

Gearing up for painting...

The step about mixing the paint colors to match her skin color was a little lost on Frances.  Blue it is!

And taping up the hand.  

Frances was pretty sure we were supposed to stop by to pick up her hand before leaving the museum for the day.  Fortunately, she forgot that plan and we managed to leave the museum without having to extricate her hand from the hundreds that were eventually taped up.

After the hand activity, we explored the rest of the museum.  Frances was most taken with this glass sculpture by Dale Chihuly.  Can't say that I blame her.

Here's Frances telling her dad about the big, glass Christmas tree, and The Belly at about 36 weeks off to the left.

Thirty-Eight Months of Preschooler Frances

Here's Frances and her daddy, bonding, on Frances's 38 month birthday:

They were working on perfecting this skill, squinting with one eye, giving a thumbs up and clicking with the tongue.  Valuable life lesson, that.

Frances Fun Facts:

• Frances-isms: "My eyes are blue," said in a sad, weepy voice while getting washed off in the bath.  She means, "My eyes are red because the shampoo is non-tear but still irritates my eyes," but we never correct her because it's so endearing so it may be years before she learns the correct expression. And instead of pronouncing "sure" like "shur," she says "sho-ah" which amuses us so much we repeat it ad nauseum and I think she's starting to catch on that we're mocking her, in the most loving way.
• Best misunderstanding of the month: "Andy Johnson is my parent," declared Frances the other day.  My initial, irrational response was to wonder, "What are they teaching her at that school?"  About two minutes later, I realized she was saying, "Auntie Jocelyn is my godparent."  True enough, kiddo.  Mystery solved.

A Frances First!

Frances produced her first representational drawing the other day!  Unfortunately, she used her erasable drawing board so it's not on a piece of paper I can keep forever.  That means I have to preserve it here, My Preserving Spot, and all you lucky folks get to see it.  That's the three of us.  I'm not sure of the order, but Mark may be the long one on the right.

Turns out all that TV hasn't zapped her creative ability (I'm obsessed with the TV thing, I know)!

Home for the Holidays

We had a very laid back Christmas around here, which was just what the doctor ordered.  The festivities started with our church's pageant on Christmas eve, a very casual affair.  Frances played a star, which she thought was just nifty because she got to wave around a big stick with a star on the end.  (The church has to find roles for about 200 kids, so they get a little creative.)  Frances is one of the stars toward the right of the picture.

The most memorable part for me was when Frances decided she wanted to stand around the chancel with the priests.  Mean old mom was not accommodating, so Frances took it upon herself to throw herself over the communion rail, red tulle dress and all.  She only got one leg over the railing, but it was not for lack of trying.  This was during the pageant, mind you.  

Christmas morning it snowed just a tad.  I had really hoped for serious snow.  I mean, if we're staying in Boston rather than going home to Arkansas for Christmas, we at least deserve a white Christmas, that was my thinking.  I was obliged, but just barely.

Here's Frances, mid-opening.  You gotta dress properly for these things.

Mark and I have been talking about building a gingerbread house since long before Frances was born.  We even drew up plans once.  It has never happened.  This year, Trader Joe's came to our rescue with a gingerbread house kit, a perfect way to kill time while dinner cooked.  Frances helped her dad brace the walls/roof and managed to eat frosting at the same time.  Talented kid.

Here's the finished product.

We were all quite pleased with the finished product.  It took less than 30 minutes to construct, and in the end we got to eat it.  Perfect entertainment for a three year old and her architect father.

Dinner took considerably longer than 30 minutes to prepare.  Mark was most proud of his ham with red pepper jelly - delicious.

I was most proud of a Brown Sugar-Cranberry tart - also delicious, if I do say so, but we didn't get pictures of that.  We were a little negligent about pictures in general, but we were doing a lot of cooking.  The plus side is that we had lots of food to freeze, in preparation for when the next kiddo comes along and no one wants to be cooking!

Barefoot, Pregnant and Purple

I've mentioned before that Frances's Mimi, my mother, has returned to her crafty ways since she's had grandchildren to sew for, but all the offspring have benefited.  One of our latest Mimi-sewn gifts were matching corduroy dresses for Frances and me.  So here I am, barefoot, pregnant and purple with my cheese ball sidekick.

We were quite pleased with ourselves.

Where The Wild Things Are...

...or another dose of reality around these parts.

I'm not sure how this picture came to be.  It might be that Frances and I were playing her latest game, the Falling Down Game, and it got extended.  The Falling Down Game doesn't actually involve too much falling down, luckily.  I sit on the floor, Frances tackles me and we roll around giving big bear hugs.  I'll want to remember that when she's a teenager, I'm sure.  Perhaps we were playing that and then she wanted to read Wild Things?  Not sure, but Mark wandered in the kitchen and found us reading.  Life in these parts.