I just dropped a piece of food on the floor, and here is a reenactment of the decision-making process that followed:

“Oops.  Should I pick that up?”

Reasons I should leave it:

1. Was it the last delicious one?  No.
2. Will it stink, melt, or otherwise make an increasing mess if I leave it?  No..
3. Did it land in a place where I can easily reach it once I actually bend all the way down to the floor?  No.
4. Is it in an obvious place, where others will see it and know that I dropped it and left it?  No.  
5. Does being in my third trimester make a good excuse for leaving it?  Of course, silly.
6. Will anyone but God and I ever know if I leave it?  No.

Reasons I should pick it up:

1. Will the dog or another pet find and eat it?  No, since our last remaining dog disappeared a month ago.
2. Will somebody be sweeping this floor soon, and did it land in a place where the broom-wielder is likely to find it?  No.
3. Is there a kid nearby that could pick it up for me?  No.
4. Can I convince myself that I’m not entirely sure I actually dropped it, since I can’t see it from where I’m standing?  No.
5. Will God cut me slack because I’m 9 months pregnant?  Not if  I can still paint my own toenails.

Conclusion:

As you can clearly see, the reasons to leave it outweighed the reasons to pick it up.  The chili-cheese corn chip is still under the front edge of the fridge.  Ok, ok, I’m picking it up…

Tell me if I’m weird.  I hate to make phone calls.  I don’t mean “hate” as in dislike.  I mean it gives me butterflies in my stomach, like when I arrived at the dentist to have my wisdom teeth pulled.  Like when I got pulled over that time I was speeding, and knew it.  Like when the excitement of a new pregnancy has worn off and I realize that I have to go through labor again before I get to meet the kid.

I hate to make phone calls.  My kids hate leaving voicemail, but I breathe a sigh of relief if I make it past the 4th ring.  It’s my Get Out Of Jail Free card.  I made the call and didn’t have to do the conversation.  Now the ball is in their court, and when we talk it will be because they called me instead of vice versa.  I’m fine with that, and I have no idea why.

Well, maybe I do have an idea.  I’m just guessing, but I think it’s because I’m naturally a quiet person.  I don’t do well at keeping up my half of a conversation, and if I’m the one who made the call I feel that the burden is on me to manage the entire call: the introduction (how have you been lately?  how did that thing work out?), the business (why did I really call you today?), the post-business chit chat (now what do I say???), the graceful exit (umm…I see blood, smell smoke, and hear screams. gotta go.)

If I call you, I have to do all this, don’t I?  Isn’t that how it works?  Do other quiet people understand what I’m feeling?  Do talkative people think I’m off my rocker?

After my miserable failure yesterday morning, I let Perry talk me into trying again last night.  I’ve never tried it twice in one day, but I decided to give it a try.  I didn’t expect to do great, but was thinking that if my second time in one day was no worse than the first, that would be a good thing.

So we waited for dusk, and we set out.

I DID IT!  I was hardly even breathing hard when finished, and I could have gone for more.  I was ready for week 2!  I am ready for week 2.

That’s good, because our next workout will be the beginning of week 2.  I can do this.

Perry and 9 of our 10 children have been gone at a medieval festival since 4:00 this afternoon. I think you can guess which child stayed with me. I thought it wise to stay home to rest, and nobody argued with me.

But what did I do?  What do I always do after giving birth when nobody is looking?  When will I learn?  But after nearly a week of rest, I couldn’t resist.  I…

1. Cleaned a very dirty kitchen and washed dishes, drying and putting them away as well.  After all, a mountain of clean dishes is only marginally better than a mountain of dirty dishes.
2. Cleaned the microwave, because ewww!
3. Nursed the baby.  Changed the baby.
4. Took scraps down to the chickens, watered and fed the mama and her 7 chicks, and gathered eggs.
5. Washed and hung 4 more loads of laundry, because the 3 I hung earlier today just weren’t enough to make up for the lack of schedule over the past week.
6. Nursed the baby.  Changed the baby.
7. Put away laundry belonging to me, hubby, and the 3 littlest.  Who wants to look at a mountain of clean laundry in the living room?  Now at least it looks more manageable.  I also put away the towels, which helped shrink the remaining pile considerably.
8. Sorted and folded the clothes in Perry Boy’s drawer.  How else was I going to put away his clean laundry?  The poor kid still had some size 2T’s in there, and way too many long sleeved shirts for June in south Texas.
9. Nursed the baby.  Changed the baby.
10. Started a load of diapers that really should have been washed yesterday.  After a cold pre-rinse, I boiled 3 gallons of water on the stove top to boost our water heater’s anemic performance.  I also filled the diaper bucket with hot soapy water to soak.  Actually I just set it in the tub and turned the hot water on because I was coming right back.  Oh.  Yeah.  That’s why there’s no hot water.  I’ll be right back…
11. Washed the diaper bucket and disinfected the bath tub.
12. Nursed the baby.  Changed the baby.
13. Watered my container garden.  With a bucket and a kiddie pool because I was too lazy to go under the deck and turn the hose on, then go back down again to turn it off.
14. Rescued my Early Girl tomatoes from a dozen huge and creepy caterpillars, some as long and thick as my finger.  There were also some on my 2 remaining cherry tomato plants, the only survivors of the Great Puppy Massacre.  I’m  not sure the cherry tomatoes will survive this attack.
15. Nursed the baby.  Changed the baby.

Now I think I’ll sit and rest a bit…

Are you wondering?  I’ll give you the same hints I gave one of the children:

It’s something we never expected to buy for our household, and even when it occurred to us, we never expected each other to agree that it was a good idea.  That was enough for one smart cookie to guess, but I’ll give you another hint: we knew we could give the kids some serious thrills without filling the house with a lot of new junk, and could use Amazon credits from Swagbucks to pay for it so it cost us nothing out of pocket.

Even now, I keep wondering if it was a good idea.  I still hesitate and blush a little when somebody asks what our kids got for Christmas.  I feel like I should start with the disclaimers before I reveal the nature of the gift:

1. The Gift will only be used with permission.
2. The Gift will only be used in a group setting, as an interactive and social event.
3. The Gift will only be used on weekends.  Special permission to use The Gift outside of the weekend will be rare.
4. Attitude is of the utmost importance while using The Gift.  Users who display impatience, selfishness, unkindness, road rage and other unchristlike attitudes will be swiftly banned.

What is it?  I’m not ready to tell yet.  I just want to say that we would never buy what we did – except that we just did.

And The Thing that we bought to go with it – oh my.  Swagbucks paid again, but is that an excuse?  What have we done?  We have one of Those Monstrosities in our house!  It’s not what it looks like!  It doesn’t do what it would do in an average American house.  Its power is limited.  We can control it.

[deep breath]

Merry Christmas.

Oh, you’re still wondering?  It’s a WII.

…and…

[glancing furtively about]

…well…

[whispering]

a tv to play the games.

Hubby took 8 of the children to work with him today, leaving behind just 1 momma and 1 baby.  Well, if you count the dog there’s another momma and 8 more babies, but this is about me.  I’ll tell you about them another time.

We stood at the door and waved as the van left, and the house has been quiet ever since.  Well, wait.  Quiet might not be the best choice of words.  Bethany has spent a good part of the day standing at the door bellowing for her sisters and brother.  But the house has been still. I even turned off most of the fans to amplify this glorious sensation.  ahhh.  I hear the clock ticking in the kitchen.  A cicada outside, far away.  Chickens scratching in the woods behind the house.  The smack-smack of little feet creeping up behind me to beg for another bite of my lunch.

You might be wondering what was going through my sweet husband’s mind when he decided to take 8 little helpers to work with him.  So was I, but the old adage about looking a gift horse in the mouth came to mind.  I’m just proud to have a hubby who thinks it’s fun.  Yes, he changes diapers too.  Don’t hate me.

Of course I enjoy the company of my family and I miss them when they’re gone.  But I also enjoy a quiet house which looks exactly like it did 7 hours ago, even though I haven’t lifted a finger to clean it.  I’m also enjoying a bit of cookie dough I found in the freezer.  It’s amazing how far a little bit goes when you only divide it 2 ways instead of 10.  [evil laugh]

I’m off to take a nap with the wee one.  In the meantime, who can tell me where the title of this post came from?  Sure, it may be a common phrase, but where did I learn it?

At most of the baby showers I get to attend, we don’t do games.  It seems like most people scoff at baby shower games, or openly dread them. Maybe they secretly enjoy them but they’re too ashamed to say so.

Not me.  I like them.  Except the one where you microwave candy bars, squish them in a diaper, and try to identify by aroma – or taste, if you’re that determined to win.  I’ve heard tales, but never been invited to try that game, for which I am thankful.

I especially like the one where you try to guess the expecting mother’s waist measurement, mostly because I’ve played twice and won both times.  The first was long ago, when we had to guess the number of toilet paper squares to wrap around the guest of honor.  Remember, Michelle?  Last Saturday we used yarn, a more exacting media.  I say it’s a math thing, and if you’ve been here long you know how I feel about math.  Some people think in words or pictures; I think in numbers.  I think English is my second language; algebra was first.

I don’t think the ladies in my church knew this.  There was some joking about disqualifying me before the game started, but that’s just because I’ve been pregnant the most times.  They didn’t see the confidence in my moves as I eyed the victim and wrapped the yarn around my arm the long way, fingertip to elbow.  Twice and a smidge more.  They didn’t know I was thinking in terms of Pi and cubits and – well, I guess past experience did help because I’ve measured my own pregnant belly more than once, but  I knew skinny little Camille was going to come in way below my own measurements.

And so we all cut a piece of yarn that we thought would fit Camille’s bulging waistline.  The pastor’s wife went first. Kathy is the life of the party.  She had cut her yarn far, far too long, getting her first laugh from the crowd.  When she tried in on Camille with 2/3 of the length left over, she got her second round of laughter.  But we Presbyterians know when we’re on a roll, and Kathy didn’t stop there.  She decided to wrap her yarn around Camille’s belly the other way.  Vertically.  Starting at her feet and up around her head, down her back to her feet again.  The crowd roared as the ends met perfectly!

A few more had a try at it, and all were too long.  Not far off – they were good guesses, but Camille is just a little thing, even at T minus 24 hours.  Most of us look like we swallowed a watermelon or two at that stage.  She looked like she has swallowed one of those $5 personal-sized seedless melons.

And then I was up.  My daughter had ridiculed me when I cut my string.  “Mom!  That’s way  too small!  That will never fit!”  At that, I had reluctantly added an inch or two, but I refused to add more before snipping.  Now I stood before her to justify my decision.

It was too beautiful.  It was perfect.  Perfect. I wrapped it around Camille, and the crowd gasped as the ends met neatly.

See?  Who says you never use higher math in everyday life?  I love math, even though they’ll probably never let me play again.