I’m 37 weeks today, so I’m no longer considered pre-term if I went into labor. So bring it on! I think we’ve got all the essential “baby stuff” we need to get started. I’ve got things packed as much as I can, and the few things I can’t pack yet are on a handy list so I can grab them at the last minute.

While I’m ready for Anna any time now, she and I are also getting along just fine the way we are. I’m very grateful that I still feel good, have no problems, and can continue about my normal activities for the most part. And I still have plenty I can do to occupy myself the next few weeks. So while it would be great if she came, say, tomorrow, I’m also fine waiting a bit, which is a good thing, since that’s more likely what’s going to happen!

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I had a hard time coming up with some of my quirks, but Sasha’s come to mind easily. Probably no one else cares about this, but it’s still fun to write.

1. She doesn’t like trailers, or more specifically, any vehicle pulling something along behind it, whether it’s a boat, U-Haul, flatbed trailer, whatever. She goes nuts barking at it.

2. She’s scared of things that beep, like digital thermometers, watches, and other electronic things. Even if it’s a very quiet, not-at-all-annoying beep, it still freaks her out and she starts pacing and trembling and wants to jump on the furniture. I would give anything to know what she’s thinking. (I tried to “desensitize” her to beeps once by beeping something as I was offering her a treat. All I did was make her afraid of treats for a few days. She kept shying away from them. Dog biscuits can be so unpredictable, you know.)

3. She doesn’t like the camera. (This is a shame because she’s so cute! It’s hard to get a good picture of her.) When we get the camera out, she tries to hide from it, and she sometimes even has the same jumping-on-the-furniture reaction that she has to beeps and thunder. She can even tell when we’re using our cell phones as cameras. We can talk on our cell phones with no reaction whatsoever from her, but if we try to take a picture with them, she knows.

4. Most dogs roll in stuff. Thanfully, Sasha doesn’t like to roll in gross things; she prefers fragrances and household chemicals. When we’ve just put on something scented, like my perfume or David’s aftershave, she wants to roll on us. When I spray air freshener, or spray Endust on a cloth and a little residue gets on the floor, she goes crazy rolling around all over the carpet. You should see her with Febreeze.

5. Every time I play the piano, she gets her toys out of her basket and starts playing with them. Every time. She really doesn’t play much on her own, I’d say just a couple of minutes a day, and that’s usually when David comes home. But somehow the piano triggers something in her mind that tells her she’s supposed to play with her toys.

6. She doesn’t like it when we sneeze, particularly David. If she’s lying near him, she gets up and moves away. If she’s somewhere else in the house, she gets up and goes to him. She just has to move somehow, and she seems somewhat annoyed that we’ve disturbed her and made her get up.

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Ok, it seems like everybody has posted about their quirks but me, so here you go:

1. I don’t like chocolate. I’m not allergic to it, I just don’t like it. It tastes yucky to me for some reason. And yes, I try some every now and then just to see if I’ve grown out of it. I haven’t. The only exception to this is those packaged ice-cream sandwiches from the grocery store, because I don’t think the cookie part really tastes like chocolate.

2. I’m weird about my fingertips. I’d much rather have blood drawn out of a vein in my arm than have my finger pricked. In fact, when I have the baby, I’m kind of dreading that clippy thing they put on your finger in the hospital.

3. I have to re-tie my running shoes several times to make sure they’re the exact same tightness on each foot. If they’re not, it really bugs me.

4. I’m pregnant and I’m freezing. Aren’t pregnant women supposed to be hot all the time? I’ve always been cold-natured, and pregnancy doesn’t seem to have changed that one bit.

5. I like to do laundry. I hear people talk about laundry piling up and how overwhelming it is, but I don’t seem to have this “laundry problem” that’s plaguing the rest of the nation. (I know it will be harder with a baby, but I still don’t see myself getting buried in it.) I find laundry to be one of the easier household chores—they make these machines that do it for you! Doing laundry gives me a sense of accomplishment without my having done any real work.

6. I just can’t jump on the flip-flop bandwagon. Cheap plastic flip-flops are for the beach or the pool or around the house. I just can’t wear them out in public—they’re not real shoes. I can wear sandals without a back on them, but they need to be made out of leather, or some material other than plastic, and come in a shoe box.

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Ok, I admit David’s sign tops mine, but I still had to capture this:

So how is this a rollback, exactly? I guess they’re just hoping you won’t notice.

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In various pregnancy books, web articles, childbirth classes, etc. they discuss the role of the “support person” (husband, boyfriend, significant other, etc.). Apparently this person is supposed to do things like comfort the laboring mother with gentle touch/massage, reassure her with encouraging words and tell her how great she is doing, remind her of what she’s learned about breathing/relaxation techniques, provide emotional support, blah, blah, etc., etc.

Well, this just didn’t seem like it quite covered it for me, so I came up with my own set of rules:

• Don’t touch me unless I ask you to.
• No fussing at me, about anything, for any reason.
• Just do whatever I tell you to.
• No “cheerleading” during delivery. (This means yelling things at me like “atta girl, you’re doing great, honey!” and things of that nature. Seriously, I’ve heard people say “atta girl” on TLC’s A Baby Story, like you’d say to a six-year-old who just scored her first soccer goal.)
• As soon as I’m allowed to eat, get me a snack already. Like, yesterday.
• Keep visitors out of the room unless they’ve called ahead of time and arranged to come by.
• As much as possible, go wherever the baby goes, if she has to be taken away for some reason. And make sure it’s a good reason.

Well, I think that pretty much covers it. Oh, and I reserve the right to amend these rules at any time without explaining myself!

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I had a pretty big weekend—an Irish house session on Friday night and Anna’s baby shower on Saturday.

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On Friday night, some gracious friends of one of our ACMS musicians hosted a party. They invited musicians to play, dancers to dance, and many of their friends and neighbors to listen and watch. They have a great old house with plenty of room for everyone. It was a wonderful evening.

These photos were taken by Mark Wagner. You can see all 151 of them, if you choose to, here.

Judi and Cory on fiddle:

Joe and Peggy on bodhran:

Dancers from the O’Donovan School of Irish Dance:

Me, to prove I was there:

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Anna’s baby shower was held at my church on Saturday. Thanks to all our friends and family who came to help celebrate, and thank you Emily, Kim, Bonny, Rae Lyn, and Tanya for putting this together!

The cake was made by a sweet lady named Susan, who generously donates her time and talent to make the baby shower cakes for our moms-to-be at church:

Me and the moms—mine on the left and David’s on the right:

Me and my little helper, who always made sure I had just the right present to open next:

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This is a great easy dinner idea. The recipe came from a Southern Living cookbook. You’re supposed to marinate your chicken (and/or beef), grill it, cut it into strips and make fajitas. This is quite good of course, but if you’re not planning on firing up the grill, do what I usually do—cut the raw chicken into strips, toss it with the marinade, and cook it in the Crock Pot for about 4 hours.

Chicken Taco/Fajita Marinade

• 1 cup Italian dressing
• 2 Tbsp. chili powder
• 2 tsp. ground cumin
• 1 tsp. brown sugar
• 1 tsp. pepper
• 1/4 tsp. salt
• 1/4 tsp. garlic powder
• 1/4 tsp. ground chipotle (optional, but if you don’t have some, get some!)

Half of the marinade recipe is plenty to do about 4 chicken breasts, so I usually make the whole recipe and pour half in a jar (before it has touched the chicken, of course) to use next time.

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WARNING: This post might give you the heebie-jeebies.

8:00 P.M.: David and I are sitting on the couch, watching some stupid TV show, both so sleepy for some reason we can barely keep our eyes open.

8:45 P.M.: I see something dark moving around inside the kitchen light fixture. As much as I hate bugs, I really hope it’s just a big bug. No, David says, that would be a mouse. Adrenaline rush follows; sleepiness disappears.

8:46 P.M.: I make the wise decision that this event definitely needs to be documented on camera.

9:15 P.M.: Still formulating a plan, after dismissing several ideas. The only way to get the little sucker out of there is to take the cover off the light, which runs the risk of the mouse jumping out and getting who-knows-where in the house. That definitely won’t work. After all, we’d like to go to bed at some point tonight. Maybe.

9:30 P.M.: Plan formulated; mouse-catching contraption begins to be erected:

9:45 P.M.: We give Sasha a rawhide chew and shut her in the bedroom, just in case this doesn’t work. She’s now oblivious to what’s going on.

9:47 P.M.: We both get up on a stepladder at each end of the light fixture. We take the cover off (through the plastic bags), tilt it down towards David’s end (isn’t he gallant?) and the mouse slides into the trash bags. Good job, David!

9:48 P.M. David twists up the trash bag and is about to cut it off with scissors; I say, “Don’t you want a twist-tie first?”

9:55 P.M.: David rolls the big green trash can (with mouse inside) out to the curb a day early. He’s not about to take any chances.

10:55 P.M.: I’m almost ready to go to bed; David is still sitting on the couch, occasionally letting out involuntary shudders.

11:37 P.M. (I think): David finally comes to bed.

A final interesting note: It just so happens that today is the Chinese New Year, and it is the year of the rat. Coincidence? I think not.

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Even so, I managed to make my own crib bedding—a dust ruffle and bumper pad! And it even looks like… well, a dust ruffle and bumper pad! I wasn’t really expecting anything different, yet somehow I surprised myself when it came out looking like actual crib bedding you’d buy in a store. Here’s a pic (no sheets yet though, and the pad isn’t tied on everywhere):

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Today I made some spinach dip for a get-together tomorrow night. As I finished, I got out a pretty crystal bowl to put it in. Then the thought came to my mind, “There’s gonna be little kids there, running around and getting into the food.” So I put the crystal bowl back and reached for a cheaper Pyrex glass bowl. Then I thought again, “There’s gonna be little kids there, running around and getting into the food.” I put the glass bowl back, reached in the bottom cabinet, and grabbed an ugly utilitarian plastic storage container.

Sigh… so long for a while, crystal.

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