In transition

I would be abysmally pregnant the hottest summer in years.

To all the whiners. . .  Just be glad you don’t have your own personal 8lb furnace installed.

Today will be the first time I’ve left the house in days and it’s only because I have to.  The kids may develop scurvy if I don’t get some fresh food in the house.  OK, it’s not that bad, but the fridge is looking pretty sad and we’re out of peanut butter for Pete’s sake. I dread crossing the parking lot and may actually take advantage of the “stork” parking* for the first time ever.

*I usually a park at the end of the row, so I don’t have to worry about car doors or other people waiting for my spot while I deal with car seats.

I think Ivy and I are doing well with Home Ec 101.   Last night we hit a milestone, not too shabby for five months.

jumping on the bed!

I think Aidan may have given me a new tagline for the blog:

You’re driving me cranky!

Last night, in an effort to convince this kid to move, my friend and I took our children to the mall.  My stepdaughter pushed my friend’s toddler in a stroller.  My friend carried her infant in a sling and my boys attempted to stage an interpretation of the Chaos Theory as we strolled along.

A middle aged couple kept pace for a while.  Before we parted ways, I overheard the woman say to the man, something to the effect of “all those teen moms.”

My friend and I are rather flattered, thank you.

According to the story we are told, the babysitter flaked out and that is why the mom had to lock her children in her car on a sweltering July afternoon.

After lying to her neighbor about where she was taking them.  What, her pride was so great she couldn’t beg this person?

After dismissing or never even considering the idea of leaving them alone with a few snacks and the tv on?  Yes, that would make her a really crappy parent, but I’d believe the desperation story a little more easily.

Maybe I’m sitting a little high on my horse, but from up here, things look uglier than I can articulate, Susan Smith ugly.

Dear Baby,

You need to wait a day or two before making your appearance.  Give me time to get over this horrendous cold/stomach bug or your delivery may make headlines.

Mother’s Head Explodes Giving Birth

Clean up expected to take weeks

That’s not how I’d like to be remembered.

Love,

Mom

Tim and I were able to go on a date last night, thanks to some friends who generously offered to watch the boys.

I thought 1408 might be good when the ticket seller mentioned seeing it three times.  We missed the first few minutes due to the website incorrectly posting the showtime and I apologize to the four other viewers for coming in late.  We were fast and attempted to be quiet, but the seat I chose in the dark was broken and dumped me unceremoniously toward the floor.  It is hard enough to be graceful with limbs the length of mine.  Throw in being nine month pregnant and forget it.

Other than floundering around trying to stand up and not make a scene the movie was excellent.  I had heard that John Cusack had done a fantastic job and I was not disappointed.  The movie while not lifted word for word from the story was impressively adapted for the screen.   It has been a long while since I have seen a thriller that didn’t rely entirely on gore or “cat in the closet” scares.

We finished off the evening with sushi (hush, I don’t indulge often) and a ride home through last night’s impressive lightning show.

Thank you to our friends for allowing us this last escape before baby.

We’re ready now.

JAZ from over at Choose Charleston pointed to my little blog when he wrote of Moncks Corner.  I love my not-as-little-as-it-was-town.  Growing up, we only ventured to the County Seat when we had to pay car taxes or -gasp- traffic tickets.

I never got to see a movie at the drive-in which was recently torn down to make way for the East Shore Athletic Club.  Frankly, I’m excited about a new gym.  I belong to the Y, but honestly it has been due to lack of alternatives rather than exciting enticements.

Back in highschool, we used to drive to the Strawberry Shortstop, a gas station on Old Hwy 52 that is long gone.  We had no reason to leave Goose Creek, it was just somewhere to go, back then when gas was $0.99 a gallon it was the drive, not the destination.  We played fox and hounds with CB radios and got lost in the Francis Marion forest.

We’d scare ourselves silly out at Strawberry Chapel looking for Little Mistress Chicken who had been tied to a tombstone as punishment for talking in class.

As a military brat, I spent hours upon hours in the lake at Short Stay, but I had never been to Lions Beach until this summer, where my youngest son is turning bronze and bleach blond.  The other only a slightly darker shade of ecru, he takes after me.

I enjoy how I always need to tack an extra five or ten minutes onto errands, because I am almost guaranteed to run into someone I know.

It’s bittersweet watching the new subdivisions grow.  I love this town and while I’m happy it’s not drying up and blowing away, part of me wants it to stay the same.

I often mull over post ideas for a few days, allowing them to ripen or die on the vine.  I have one rolling around on the concept of splurging at little or no cost.  One of my personal favorites is to tuck the monkeys in bed and soak in the tub accompanied by a good book, a few squares of dark chocolate, and something icy cold to drink.

A blogger buddy of mine probably just had a neurosis based coronary at the thought.  I wonder if the knowledge that the actual toilet is in a water closet will revive her?