This baby likes:
- The citrus genus.
Especially the really easy to peel ones that are all over Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s this time of year, because you can rip through five or six of them in under a minute.
- Disco.
Plus, the UPS guy keeps bringing these tiny, vintage polyester pants to my door. The only possible conclusion: my daughter wishes to spend her childhood dressing like Barry Gibb on a date.
What would be terrifying full size and in the wild is adorable in miniature, kind of like…bears. Or the baby possum that kept trying to live in our herb garden last spring.
- Entertaining my irrational expectations of personal autonomy come summertime.
Late at night, Bill and I have deep, earnest discussions about how maybe we shouldn’t plant so many tomato plants this year because who has time to put up 200 jars of sauce with an infant wanting to hang around with you all the time. I am stubbornly undaunted—surely not the first or last nulliparous assumption that will leave me sheepish and weepy in August.
Whatever. Everything is possible. Human nature is entirely perfectible. We should also not forget to plant the tomatillos and habaneros for salsa.
When I was preggers with Womb Fruit Boys, I craved Chicken {mostly sandwiches} and Lemons {mostly Lemon Meringue Pie, although Lemon Ice cream would do in a pinch}.
With Womb Fruit Girl, it was Lamb Curry and Chestnuts,……go figure.
Lots of cheese toast with all!
Love the Disco Ball ~ all my kiddos were and are being raised on Disco.
You. Are. Just. Awesome!!! You will have the kind of baby that will happily hang around your chest while you can 200 jars of sauce. I can just feel it. and when it comes to kids (I have 4) Whatever, is the right attitude! Don’t forget the Cilantro! <3
Ugh! Your tomato plants put me to shame. I only just started my seeds last Sunday!
That heeler snout is precious. I’ve got two and they are just a bucket of fun.
This is going to be the Summer of Tomatoes, the Summer of Babies (both marsupial and hominid).
Catching up around here and sending you huge, huge hugs, dearest Bethypantz. xo from a displaced desert girl.