the busy heart

This morning I was thinking about yoga. I was thinking about prenatal yoga, and how I had planned to do it while pregnant. I was thinking about this because my body hurt, and for an instant I thought, "Maybe I could do yoga," and then I remembered that I couldn't. Which led me to thinking, again, about the plans I had for this pregnancy, about how I thought it was going to go, and how few of those plans are actually playing out. Here's what I had in mind originally: I had a midwife at a birth center, and I really liked her, and I was excited about a semi-granola birth, a valiant attempt at doing it "naturally." I envisioned laboring in the bathtub and in the birth center's garden. I wanted to learn hypnobirthing and find a really good birth class. Before then I would do yoga, and I would take long walks, and I would eat a lot of green healthy things and plenty of good protein and I would be lean and lovely as a pregnant lady--you know, like a q-tip w

Sometime back I realized that those weird shelves of trashy knick-knacks in thrift stores are actually a gold mine if you have the right eyes. Almost any of the tacky little ceramic figurines you find there can be beautiful, given a little love and a coat of spray paint. I found these three little snails awhile ago, and fell for them. They were a dollar a piece. And I knew they were meant for baby. I took them home, and eventually got around to getting a can of gold spray paint, and one evening, after a long day of bed resting, I took a very brief excursion out back to the parking lot behind our place so I could oversee the painting of the snails. I remain deeply in love with them. Someday, when this kid's nursery actually comes together, they will be a sweet addition to that space.

The only way I'm staying sane lately is to make objects for baby. At night when I can't sleep, I imagine her nursery in great detail, and then I send Sam to the fabric store (what a hero, no?) and in the evenings, after I've worked from home, I turn on Netflixed sitcoms and make whatever has struck my fancy. One morning I woke up with the idea to make the baby a stuffed monster. Sam and I dig those Ugly Dolls . You know the ones? (I think you either get them and love them or you don't ... we love them.) And we've talked about getting her one. But it occurred to me I'd like to make her one, and this was the result. Sam loves the monster, and was soon very excited about her photo shoot. He wanted a picture of her everywhere, as you'll see. (She was loosely inspired by these monsters , which I found whilst Pinteresting, of course.) Her mouth, eye, and hair are all felt. Her legs are orange on the back and yellow on the front. I hand-sewed the whole thing

Some time back I began to experience angst about how hard it is to find modest dresses. When I got pregnant, I developed an instant aversion (okay, inability) to wear anything aside from flowy and loose dresses with leggings, and it began to just irritate me that everything I bought had to be paired with a tank-top (because it was too low-cut), a sweater (because it was sleeveless), and/or leggings (because it was too short). Quite often, I had to add all three, and I began to just be annoyed as I put on all of those layers of clothes. The point of dresses was to be easy ; the point of dresses was to have nothing touching me. Wearing a dress andandand missed the point. And really, while I don't generally get indignant about this stuff, I began to wonder what is wrong with this world that I can't find a dress that doesn't expose my goodies. I mean, I confess my aim for modesty is related to my religious tradition, but it also it just seems like I'm a grown woman , you