"Childbirth classes neglect to teach one critical skill: How to breathe, count, and swear all at the same time." ~ Linda Filterman

First: the baby update. Saw the doctor yesterday, all seems well. We spotted the little bean with its itsy-bitsy heartbeat – even with the crappy office ultrasound machine - although since I am not sure about the dates, the doctor thinks I am actually due later in February than we originally thought. Since I have had three normal, uncomplicated pregnancies, they are not as concerned about my “advanced maternal age” (God, how I despise that phrase!) as they might be if it were, say, my first. Now H and I are trying to decide when to tell the boys. Preferably sometime before I file for Social Security benefits and my AARP membership comes due.

Second: the RSS feed update. David, did you get the whole post? Lemme know.

Now, the book update:

I finished Baker Towers last night, and I have to say, I LOVED this book. Thanks for the recc, Gina. I enjoy complicated family sagas, and this one was a goodie. It reminded me a bit of Rebecca Johns’ Icebergs although the actual plots and geography differ greatly. They are both books you can get lost in, if you like. While H took the kids to his mom’s for the fourth time in five days (I don't even want to see people I LIKE that often), to play baseball with their cousins, I stayed home, finished off my book, and ate cheese, pretzels, and chocolate for dinner. (What? Chocolate and cheese are dairy! Calcium and protein, my friends. Calcium and protein.)

I then started Ian Sansom’s The Case of the Missing Books, which is going to be an incredibly light read but most entertaining. Israel Armstrong completely cracks me up, and I can’t wait to see how he resolves the issues with which he is faced. The scene in which the locals give him directions to Balleymuck via Balleygullable made me howl. It might help him if he grew a backbone, but the story wouldn’t be nearly so amusing then.

Due to the general Internet disgust and confusion over the movie version of Susan Cooper’s The Dark is Rising, and Lazy Cow’s indignation more specifically, I am about to check this book out of the library and read it tonight.

So the project to read down my TBR shelves is coming along swimmingly: both Baker Towers and Missing Books hail from TBR Land; however, I can anticipate having to buy the next Ian Sansom, which will shoot my intentions straight to hell. And after all the light fiction, I may be in the mood for something like The Children’s Blizzard next, or maybe some nice Russians. I’ve never read The Brothers Karamazov, and it IS sitting on my shelves.

"As in thy arm ready to wield the sword, So also is it ready to carry the cross." - English translation of French lyrics for 'Oh, Canada!'

I ducked out of the house this afternoon with the intent of dropping off some almost-overdue library books and heading to the coffee shop for lunch.

I wandered around the adult shelves for a while – picked up Val McDermid’s The Grave Tattoo which Gina liked, and which looked really good, but I decided I didn’t want to rush the reading of it. I couldn’t seem to settle on anything – and I couldn’t seem to remember any of the books which at some point I had looked up and been surprised to find that my neighborhood branch held. As I am happily tandem-reading Miracle in the Andes and Baker Towers, with Tracks and Tractors picked up when the mood strikes, I may just stick to concentrating on reading down my TBR stacks.

While I was at the library, however, the heavens opened and didn’t close for quite some time, and then I got soaked running to the car. Plus, my stomach was actively rebelling at the thought of a nice turkey panini and side salad.

(Q: How can I tell I am pregnant? A: The only thing I can possibly think of putting in my mouth is McDonald’s French fries. Sad but true. And hey, it’s worked for three healthy babies so far.)

So I went home, ate my French fries, and took a nap instead.

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Books I brought home for Primo:

About the B'Nai Bagels – EL Konigsburg.
Primo read From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler and loved it, so I thought more Konigsburg, one of my favorite quirky kids’ authors, was called for.

Danny, the Champion of the World and Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator - Roald Dahl.
The last two Dahl kids’ novels he has left to read.

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz - L. Frank Baum.
I think the movie would freak him right on out, but the book, he might enjoy.

Encyclopedia Brown and the Case of the Secret Pitch and Encyclopedia Brown and the Case of the Disgusting Sneakers - Donald Sobol.
A few weeks ago I brought home from the thrift store a carton of books, about fifty total. Some were picture books for Seg and Terzo, some were classics I thought the boys might like to read aloud (Call of the Wild, Rats of NIMH), and some were books I remembered enjoying from my childhood. In the box was the first Encyclopedia Brown, and Primo really liked it.

The Talking T. Rex and The Runaway Racehorse.
Primo likes the A to Z Mysteries, and these are the next two he hasn’t read.

Captain Underpants and the Big, Bad Battle of the Bionic Booger Boy, part 2.
I don’t hate these books as much as some people seem to. I think they’re funny and harmless, and I love hearing Primo’s big fat belly laugh when he’s reading one.

The House with a Clock in its Walls – John Bellairs.
Illustrated by one of my favorite illustrators ever, Edward Gorey. And if Primo can read and enjoy Dahl, he can certainly read and enjoy Bellairs.

Marvin Redpost: Is he a Girl? - Louis Sachar.
Do I have the faintest idea what this book is like? No, none, but I figured why not give it a chance? It looks funny and Sachar writes good books for older kids.

Me oh Maya! and Oh say, I can't see - Jon Scieszka.
I tried to get Primo interested in the Time Warp Trio books after he’d read all the Magic Treehouse Books. Since he very knowledgably explained to me the battle of Trenton last night after the fireworks (what is it with boys and wars?), I thought he might especially enjoy the Revolutionary War one.

Asterix and the Falling Sky - Albert Uderzo.
Primo had read all of the library’s TinTins?

Oddly Normal. Volume 1 - Otis Frampton.
No idea, it just looked fun.

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Lazy Cow mentioned that she is reading The Hobbit to her children, a remarkably brilliant idea and therefore not something that would have occurred to me in a thousand years. I thought I’d give it a whirl for Primo and Seg. Seg can take it or leave it; his current reading love is the adorable and clever Magic Hockey Stick, but Primo has asked for it even when he gets to pick the night-time reading.(The first night I told them I was reading them something I wanted to read, and then I’d read their picks. After the first ten pages of Hobbit, he picked the next ten for his choice, and there has been no looking back.)

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We took the two older boys downtown for the fireworks last night. Seg really really wanted to go, and Primo didn’t want to miss out on something Seg got to do, so he sucked up his natural disinclination to deal with loud noises and came along. The fireworks were fine, the boys had a good time, and when we got home and I put them to bed, they made me sing “The Star-Spangled Banner” to them. (Don’t tell John Ashcroft, but then they made me sing “Oh, Canada,” too. (But not the French part – I don’t speak French. Or sing it, either.))

"So tired, so tired, so tired, so tired, so tired." - Ozzy Osborne, "So Tired"

I am so tired.

I could write a post about people who plan adult birthday parties for weeknights when they are on vacation and others are NOT, and yet others are obliged to attend. But I am too tired to be bothered.

I could write a post about how much my mother-in-law annoys me, with her constant need for validation for every little thing she does and says. I’m sorry, the pasta was inedible and I am too tired to lie about it. And if you sprinkle crushed Ritz crackers and shredded Velveeta on top of broccoli, you have rendered unpalatable a perfectly fine vegetable.

I could write a post about patrons who incorrectly impugn my considerable abilities as a research librarian. But frankly, I am too tired to politely point out the error of their ways and content myself with snarking to you about it.

I could write a post about the squickiness level of the research I am doing for a freelance assignment. But I am too tired to figure out what my non-disclosure agreement covers, and what it doesn’t.

I could write a post about how if *I* had spent thousands of dollars on a boob job and tummy tuck, I would eschew Peter-Pan-collared gingham shirts with Winnie-the-Pooh appliqué, and high-waisted, pleated shorts (let’s face it, I eschew all these things anyway). I think I am too tired to consider what I would wear, other than Old Navy’s low-waisted cargoes.

I could write a post about how my six-year-old is driving me absolutely batshit with his mouthiness and whining and neediness, and how my four-year-old needs a volume control, and how I think The Baby may have roseola. But I am too tired to do much other than throw waffles at them for breakfast and push them outside to play.

I could write a post about how happy I am that my big brother is coming to visit over the holiday. I am really too tired to cook for him, but fortunately he really won’t care.

I could write a post about the war of words waged on the neighborhood email list, regarding whether or not children and dogs should be permitted to splash in the park fountain. I am NOT too tired to point out that we all survived fountain- and pond-splashing, tree-climbing, bike-riding without helmets, and playing Jailbreak in the street till after dark.

At least I appear to be too tired to bother being nauseated, so that’s something.