Craigslist betrayal and other small stuff we won’t sweat

I’m feeling neither inspired nor inclined to write a full-fledged blog post today, but here are a few thoughts swirling about in my brain:

I’m nearly 30 weeks pregnant, and I feel pretty darn good. I’m grateful for that; I really am. Sure, I feel big. Well, I am big! But my body seems to be accommodating the extra weight gracefully. My best indication? I’m still sleeping well, a blessing I do not take for granted.

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Little Pearl’s personality is a delightful mix of sweet and sassy. Almost daily, she makes me melt and/or guffaw. A few small examples:

1) Although I think she possesses a fairly extensive vocabulary for a 4-year-old, she still words like fomembo (remember), betuz (because), and lello (yellow).

2) After playing out in the yard for a few minutes recently, she burst back inside, feigning shortness of breath, and exclaimed dramatically: “Mommy! I just saw a bee drinking nectar from a flower!”

3) She is very enthusiastic about becoming a big sister in a couple of months. The other day, I overheard her reflecting to Ben: “Ben, were you so excited to be a big brother?”

Ben ignored her and continued playing with his guys in semi-silence, punctuating the air with laser hisses and battle grunts.

She asked him again, rephrasing: “Ben, were you so happy when you got a baby sister?”

Ben responded this time, indicating slight bewilderment: “What baby sister?”

Pearl paused and smacked her lips, exasperated, then uttered the obvious answer: “Meeeee!”

But Ben did not reply. The truth is that he probably does not 'fomembo' life before Pearl. He was only 19 months old when she joined the family. So, for her, this new baby will be a much more memorable, momentous occasion.

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We have a new couch! This is fabulous, much-needed news. Our previous couch, which I obtained off eBay about 2 years ago, had become hopelessly stained and stinky, written on by a few too many markers and peed on by a few too many napping toddlers. Two years might seem like a short “shelf life” for a piece of furniture, but since we invest so little in these items, I feel comfortable viewing the cost as a rental fee for comfort.

The “new” couch came from a nearby thrift store, following this failed attempt to purchase one off Craigslist: Will had made arrangements to meet the seller at her deceased mother-in-law’s house, but—alas—she called about 10 minutes after he had left for the hour-long trip to collect the couch. She said had sold the sofa to a more expeditious buyer. Since Will lives a cellphone-less life, we had no way of reaching him. He arrived at the house, found no one there, and dutifully waited in the driveway for 45 minutes before giving up on the woman who had betrayed him. He drove the hour home and received the irksome information with characteristic nonchalance: “Oh, really? Well, that’s too bad.” He came home with the couch from the thrift store the very next day. Happy Mother’s Month to me!

(OK, so I lied: This did turn into a full-fledged blog post. I hope you’re not disappointed by my lack of brevity.)