Because it is a time of gift-giving... A re-post from my previous blog.

in second grade, mrs. shaw took on a student teacher. he was not only male, but cute. our little desks were set up in a u-shape. i was on the left side of the U which meant that as he passed out papers to the right-side U sitters i had a perfect view of his double plump backside. it was perhaps my first crush on a real man (2nd graders were mere boys). one particular day i had an overwhelming force that lifted my hand off my desk and aimed it right at his bum (i said bum back then). i hesitated as my peabrain processed the pros and cons of what i was about to do. i decided i didn't care. i watched in a trance as my bird boned finger reached forward and bullseyed into his bubbling right cheek, wrinkling his navy dockers. bam! i retracted my arm realizing what i'd just done, what two seconds before i couldn't quite anticipate. i lowered my head and stared intently at the paper in front of me waiting for the inevitable awkwardness. i saw his legs turning and i slowly raised eyes to meet his. embarrassment ensued as i tried my hardest to look casual, my beet face expressing "what are you looking at?" i'm pretty sure i remember a slight smile in response as he turned back around to finish passing out papers.

you'd think that i would have lost interest, or at least learned my lesson. oh no. not me. not emilie martin. when christmas rolled around, i found waiting for me on my desk a zig-zagged edged card with a bit of holly hand-drawn on the front. hand-drawn! inside - "to emilie. have a merry christmas. from, mr ---." (i can't remember his name now. how could i forget his name?) i still have the card tucked away somewhere amongst art work and spelling tests - A+!

valentine's day included this exchange -
peabrain: (with hands behind my back) uh, mr --- ?
mr ---: (turns around) yeah?
peabrain: i have something for you.
mr ---: oh yeah? what's that?
peabrain: (smirking) a kiss!
mr ---: uh... um... huh?
peabrain: (i present from behind my back a giant hershey kiss) teeheehee... it's a HERSHEY'S kiss, silly!"
mr ---: (glances from side to side) thanks, i guess.

i realized too late that i was making a fool of myself. his smile was not flirtatious but evidence of his shock; his hand-made card was not thoughtful, but frugal and probably evidence of a wife at home; and his lack of response to my "kiss" was not because he was flattered into speechlessness, but probably (most definitely) because he was horrified.

he didn't come back the next year. did he not love me? the answer then and now remains the same - no. he did not. but i'd poked his bum and given him a chocolate kiss he'd never forget.

Thinking about water... breaking

Genes

Emilie (Emily at the time) in the hospital at 1 day old...


Nathan at home at 2 days old...


Max...

(photo pending)

Punk.

slow cooker

Today is Max's due date. So far, he's still due. We didn't make big plans for Thanksgiving... just sleeping in, eating leftover turkey dinner, and going to a movie. Here's hoping our plans are ruined.

leaving my mark

I never used to leave dents in plastic pool chairs. Come on, Max. Come on...

Waiting

I finished my last day of work on Monday with a free massage, courtesy of Dr. Jason. I was sent home with a couple gift bags, a box of diapers and wipes from Costco, and "come see us when you have Max!" as the final goodbye from everyone. I was relieved to not have to work anymore, but I'm going to miss those guys. They are good people.

That evening, Nate had his championship games for the Tempe softball league. I made it to the first one but was too tired to stay for the last... which is a royal bummer considering Nate hit 3 home runs. Yes, 3. Two of them were in the same inning, might I add. They won 24 to 22. I was in the kitchen when Nate came home to tell me the news, tossing the game ball in his hands while recounting the game with impressive detail. My man.

I spent Tuesday running errands and had a decent amount of energy, but these last two days have been kinda blah. I'm now 5 days from my due date. I had a little conversation with Max last night, albeit one-sided. "Hey, Max. What are you doing this weekend? Wanna come out?" We'll see what he decides.

In the meantime, Nate got several free movie passes from work, and we still have some restaurant.com coupons. We are trying to stay busy in our free time by consuming food and entertainment when we aren't packing up the apartment. I still cook for us, but I lack the motivation to clean up after myself. I'll be wiping up excrement and spit-up in no time flat, and in my mind that somehow excuses me from my own mess as I wait to clean up Max's. On the other hand, I don't want to bring Max home to chaos and filth, so I guess I'll be cleaning today. When Nate comes home, I'll toss a dirty dish cloth in my hands while I recount my cleaning methods with impressive detail.

Sunny with a chance of Sprinkles

Nate was a bit late coming home from work today. He was taking a detour to buy me these -

Lemon Coconut and Pumpkin



Who doesn't love a surprise cupcake? Or two? Happy Friday to me!

horses horses horses horses

Here I am - single, unpregnant, and making a fool of myself. I love this photo, because it reminds me of when I was skinny and never got charley horses.

It's hard not to count the days in anticipation of Max's arrival. I feel like my life right now is all about that... waiting. I've had a lot of practice at the waiting game, though. I was in a state of waiting in that photo, waiting for my man Nate to ride in on his white horse and rescue me from singledom. The difference here is that I have an estimated arrival date.

I can't say that being pregnant has been a bad experience, but I'm at the point where I want my body back. I want to run up the stairs two at a time. I want to lay on my stomach. I want to paint my toenails and color my hair. I want to hug my knees to my chest. And I want to slouch without crushing another human being. But I also wanted a baby.

I guess all I'm saying with this post is the obvious - I'm ready to be done. I want my baby now, please... that and a body that will fit into my normal clothes again.

are you achin' for some bacon?

Last night while reading a book on writing, Nate turned to me and said, "Emilie, if I didn't play so many computer games and chess online, I'd get so much more done." Duh. What he was really saying was that he is willing to make a change. We then made a pact to spend our "free" time doing something either creative or educational. Nate has been working on a website and brainstorming for a book he wants to write, so this new found zest for being even more productive is supported 100% by little ol' me. Besides, when Nate is productive, he usually brings home more bacon. And I do love bacon, of both sorts.

We also talked about journaling more. Our blog has done an ok job of representing what we do in our spare time, but it doesn't show what we think and talk about on a daily basis... and in essence, who we are. I think in the future we'll be equally interested in who we were as in what we were doing back in the day.

I'm at work waiting for the patients to arrive. Mondays are slow here. One of the therapists just arrived a bit early and asked how my stomach was doing. I said it was big. He said that I am going to be a good mom. I've been thinking about being a good mom lately, as I should be... considering I will be a mom in a few weeks. And holy cow. It's been awhile since I've "been" something new... like a student or a sister-in-law or a wife. Now, it's Mom. While reading "Jesus the Christ" the other day, I started thinking about the similarities between the "suffering" of pregnancy, labor, and giving birth and what Christ suffered for us. I'm not going to get preachy, but it made me consider Christ's attitude toward suffering pain that wasn't His own. His physical suffering wasn't an indication that something was wrong with Him in the same way that my physical suffering isn't and won't be an indication that something is wrong with me. The suffering is a burden He was willing to take on because it was necessary to bring about what He and His father wanted. He suffered because He loved us, and I will suffer because I love Max. Kinda cool. I think the comparison might help me get through the true suffering of pregnancy... when Max comes out. Yikes. And I don't want to get into the whole debate about pain meds during pregnancy or anything... "You don't HAVE to suffer... just put a needle in your spine!" For me, it feels right to try to go natural. With that decision comes some suffering, but I'm willing. We'll see if my will pulls through. Either way, I'll bring home a bacon bit of my own.

let it roll

Nate and I took his little cousins bowling tonight. I watched until I decided to take a turn... during which my mini-heeled shoes slipped, causing me to pull a muscle or two. I was hoping it would put me into labor, but no luck. So I watched Nate compete against kids using bumpers and occasionally took a picture with my phone.

cotton-headed ninnymuggins

Because I have so little time before the kiddo arrives, I might as well get some things done early... like Christmas Eve decorations. Yes, they were on the bottom of a long list of things to do, but they were definitely the most anticipated. Packing up dishes doesn't compare.

The Dunfords love Mexican food... so do the Martins, or more specifically, the Petersons. And so my discovery that the Dunfords celebrate Christmas Eve by making a TON of Mexican food and eating themselves silly was a mouth-watering surprise. This year (and because all of the recipes are near perfect as is), I wanted to contribute by making a little Christmas table decor. I came across the idea on a blog somewhere on the internets and made my own Christmas version... with variations. I plan on adding more detail later... antlers for the reindeer, a flame for the candle, arms for the snowman, a star for the tree, and a loop for the ornament.



I can see why people sell their crafts or gift them as if they are worth something more than cardboard, tape, and tissue paper... because they are. I poured hours of half of my attention into these bad boys (the other half was given to "The Wonder Years"), and I'm going to string them and reuse them until they yellow and smell of mustiness so bad that I can't justify draping them over a lovely spread of Mexican yumminess anymore. And when that day comes, I'll tell Max, "I made those while I was still making you" as a single tear rolls down my wrinkled cheek.

In conclusion, these mini-pinatas now exist because I made them, and Nate thinks I'd "make a good sweat shop worker."