The kitties are in for a surprise

In our childbirth class the other night, someone brought up the subject of pets. When asked collectively if our pets had any idea what was coming, the dog owners nodded heartily and told charming stories of dogs turned protective or sweet or jealous or weirdly intuitive. I can back this up – the first time I visited my parents after finding out I was pregnant, their German shepherd followed me around and nosed my belly like I was concealing a raw steak in my waistband.

The cat owners, on the other hand, scratched their heads and looked around blankly. A consensus was reached that the cats hadn’t noticed a thing.

A excellent example of just how little our cats have noticed presented itself this afternoon, when I curled up on the couch with Sparrow for a nap. Sparrow jammed herself around my couch-hogging belly, pressed one cheek against my belly button and began to doze off, just as the baby kicked her three or four times in the face, vigorously enough that the cat’s head actually moved with each kick. Sparrow didn’t stir or blink or squint at my misbehaving belly, but instead twitched her whiskers once and conked out.

Not even an assault by an unborn child was enough, apparently, to disturb what promised to be a good nap.

The Care and Feeding of Pregnant Ladies

Dear readers, I have a confession to make. Remember when I said that my Internet wasn’t hooked up yet so I couldn’t post but that I would be right back the second it was, fresh-faced and fortified with cookies? As it turns out, that may not all have been a lie, but a lot of it was: our internet was hooked up officially a day or so after that last post, but I found that I liked the sudden absence of the imagined pressure to return emails and check various profile accounts compulsively so much that I kept up the ruse and just didn’t read or return anything.

My reader filled up with unread posts. My inbox overflowed with emails of varied (and neglected) importance. (“Not having internet” makes an excellent excuse for not opening forwarded emails, by the way. Excellent.) I quite enjoyed the rest.

But I’m back! And what do I have to say for myself?

I did finally get to bake those cookies, in a brand new oven, because we tried and failed several times to connect with the grumpiest appliance repair guy I’ve ever met (though I admit that I haven’t met many), and by the time he did actually arrive at our apartment while one of us was home to receive him the oven began leaking gas, so instead of fixing the oven, we had to shut it off, which made me realize just how attached I am to the notion of providing warm, home-cooked meals for our wee family. Hanging my head in dismay – for we had neither a microwave nor a toaster oven to see us through the crisis – I was forced to use my five-year-old slow cooker for the very first time. Fortunately, the new oven arrived the very next day.

Moving was an adventure as well, but we’re pretty decently settled these days, with enough things unpacked to make us feel “unpacked” while still keeping our tupperware collection in a box on the living room floor and our aluminum foil/plastic wrap/parchment paper/etc. in a heap on the dining table.

Though initially traumatized, our cats have finally settled into a comfortable routine that seems to include a periodic showdown with what we’ve take to calling “that cat at the end of the hall” but that is, in fact, the mirrored doors of our linen closet that lives -you guessed it – at the end of the hall. Occasionally some aggressive-sounding feline chatter emanates from the hall, followed by the sound of a charging, full-grown cat, which is in turn followed by a startling but no less amusing crash as cat makes contact with mirror, paws first.

And how is the baby? Just fine! Unstoppable! Bigger every day and keeping me company in unexpected ways! I’ll be minding my own business when suddenly what was recently my belly button will streeettch outward as a little foot or fist tests the boundaries of its environment. When we poke my belly these days, it pokes back, which is an extraordinary amount of fun. We’ve hit the third trimester, folks, and we are getting excited to meet this kid.

Speaking of exciting, Mitch is gearing up to graduate next month with a full-fledged degree, and he just received his official offer for the job he’ll start immediately after graduation. He’ll be a “software design engineer,” which sounds very adult and mysterious to me, but I’m not sure I could be any prouder of him (or happier to have him back after loaning him out all these years to homework and stuff). He’s worked pretty darn hard lately, that’s for sure.

What else have I been doing? Knitting up an obsessive storm, attending prenatal yoga classes, fasting for Lent, reading illustrated books on childbirth (yikes), basking in the flawless spring weather we’ve had this last week and, of course, not checking my email. I’m off to do that now, actually. The sun is setting, dinner’s not quite started and my place is marked at page 236, “Advice to Husbands on the Care and Feeding of Pregnant Ladies,” but the email demands checking and I’m back in the swing of things, so I must obey.

I have a very good excuse, I promise

If you don’t hear from me for a bit, here’s why: we’re moving and my laptop is hidden away in a box in the hall. Our internet is (mostly but) not (entirely) hooked up yet.

Our oven still doesn’t work.

But don’t worry – I’ll be back soon with a wireless connection and freshly baked cookies.

Do you remember long ago

when I said that we’d be moving? Well, finally, after a lengthy delay, an illness or two and a missed connection with the oven repair guy, we have the keys to the new apartment in our grubby little fingers and have actually moved some boxes from one apartment to the other. If you know me, you know which boxes we unpacked first: the books and the kitchen stuff.

I spent the better part of last week in bed with that hideous flu that’s been going around (the fever, the coughing, the sheer exhaustion) and I’m just now beginning to kick it, so I suppose that, yeah, you could use the word “feeble” to describe me if you wanted to. My pride would probably be okay with that.

In between naps and hour-long sessions of knitting while watching Arrested Development, I managed to move some kitchen stuff next door, two canisters at a time. Then I came back and took another nap. And watched some more Arrested Development.

But then my mom and step-dad came over, and between us we packed up the entire kitchen and shuttled it down the hall and unpacked it and oh, my goodness! It (almost) all fit into the actual kitchen! This is more than can be said for our current kitchen.

Tomorrow, we tackle the rest of the place with the help of some really, truly, awesome friends who have been practically begging us to let them help us move (odd, I know). We’ve promised pizza. Actually, if you want some pizza, you could come by around lunchtime and we’d trade you – one slice for every two boxes you move. Sound fair?