'That pretty dress'

This morning, I was reading the paper while finishing my coffee at the table and Rye was munching a granola bar across from me.

We sat mostly in silence but then Rye said, "Why are you wearing that pretty dress, Mommy?"

It was about the nicest thing I could hear.

Because, being 35 weeks pregnant, I feel about as far from pretty as I can get.

It's not actually a dress, but the shirt is nicer and could be mistaken for a dress if you couldn't see my legs, which he couldn't.

Most of the time, this past week, I feel like I'm just trying to hang on to my sanity and a little bit of self esteem until this baby comes out. I'll never understand those women who say they like being pregnant.

But anyway, Rye's comment this morning helped. Even if he is biased.

Six weeks

In six weeks, I should have a baby.

Or at least, please, God, let me have a baby. I do not know how women cope with their due date coming and going sans baby.

I alternate between feeling relatively fine and borderline miserable. It's strange - sometimes, even this far along, I sort of forget I'm pregnant. And I'm, like, really pregnant. Other times, even moving is uncomfortable.

Today so far is OK. But it's just beginning, isn't it?

Overall, this pregnancy has been better symptom-wise than the first. I've also been distracted with life and not so intently focused on the little girl growing inside. That's got to have made a difference, too, I think.

Last night, I was carrying Rye upstairs to bed and he said, "Where is your baby?"

I told him he was my baby, and he said, "No, your new baby."

I'm not getting a new baby, I told him, not wanting him to feel replaced, just another one. You'll always be my first baby, I said.

But she's still in my tummy, I reminded him.

I was thinking, as I looked in the mirror in the upstairs bathroom: How the heck could you forget she's still in my tummy? Look at it!

This must also be the point in pregnancies when random strangers feel compelled to ask when the baby's due. It happened twice yesterday - once in the elevator at work and once at the gas station after work. I know people are well-intentioned, but I'm not big on small talk and I also really don't want to talk to strangers about what's in my bulging tummy and when the ordeal that is labor is scheduled to begin. Ah, well. It's also not that big of a deal.

I've gained 25 pounds so far. Ahem. This is hard for me. I'm hoping to not gain more than 30. With Rye, I gained 35, I'm pretty sure. I also lost it pretty quickly. I'm hoping for that again as well.

And my goal is to run a 5K in early July. Even more reason this baby girl needs to come when the gestation calendar says she should.

Happy Easter

Rye and I went to two Easter egg hunts today.

The first one, though, we missed the hunt. I know. Nice job, Mommy. But thankfully, several nice kids gave Rye a few of their haul, noticing we'd arrived as just about the last egg was picked up.

We actually had fun anyway. The hunt was at a park by a really nice lake, so we played on the toys and by the water for at least an hour. For the last 20 minutes or so, it was just us and some squawking geese on the water in the late-morning sun.

The afternoon hunt was more bountiful, as you can see in the photo, though it wasn't much of a hunt. The eggs were ready for the taking in an open patch of grass at a Catholic high school in town. But afterward, you had to turn the eggs in. In exchange, Rye got a bag of candy. I think he would have rather had the eggs.

I shoved four of them in my pocket.

Nice job, Mommy, right?

In my tummy

Rye and I got a Max and Ruby DVD at the movie store tonight. While putting it on for him just now, I skipped a Blue's Clues preview.

Rye said, "That's Blue's Clues."

I said, "I know. I like Blue's Clues. Do you?"

Rye: "Yeah. That's Leona's favorite show." (Leona goes to daycare with him).

Me: "I used to watch it when Ashley and Justin (my brother and sister) were little. I used to live with them."

Rye: "Oh, and then you got big and moved to our house. Right?"

Me, smiling: "Right."

Rye: "But I was still in your tummy. Right?"

Me: "Uh, right."

Rye: "I was still in your tummy, Mommy, right?"

Me: "Well, we hadn't made you yet."

Rye: "Oh, so where was I? Was I in a different country?"

I laughed.

And then we watched Max and Ruby.

NKOTB, part two

So Donnie totally kissed the girl next to me.

Yep. I'm not burying the lead, to use a journalism term. I'm getting that detail out of the way first thing. Because that is undoubtedly what I'll remember most from the New Kids concert in Des Moines on Monday.

I didn't even know about the show until the middle of last week - how I let that happen, I'm not sure. But I decided if I could get a decent seat, I should go. How could I not, right? This is the band, after all, for which I basically lived -- for, oh, I don't know, three years.

So I totally scored a fourth row seat for less than I would have paid for the ticket from the box office. Thank you, craigslist and overeager New Kid fan who upgraded her original ticket and had an extra.

Even better, though, was that I was on the end of the row on the left side of the arena. This normally would mean nothing. However, as my kiss detail may have led you to guess already, this meant everything to those of us on each row's end BECAUSE the New Kids walked right past us.

Yep. That meant touching. And, like, sharing air and being closer to these guys who I realize now are really just regular people than my 11-year-old infatuated self ever could have imagined.

Their trip down the aisle was a result of a three-song set the guys did on a small stage near the back of the arena. Afterward, they passed right by us to get back to the main stage. We knew it was coming because a line of arena security guards came and stretched a theater-style fancy rope between us and the aisle. As if all of us 30-something rabid New Kids fans were going to attack them or something. (Especially this gigantic, eight-month pregnant one).

Anyway, the girl in front of me, who when turned to face the aisle was actually next to me, is an almost-31-year-old stay-at-home mom of 8-month- and 20-month-old
baby girls. (She also has two other children including a 15-year-old, who she had at 16. And her husband has three kids from a previous marriage.) She had made these green and white Boston Red Sox caps for herself and her sister by gluing tiny rhinestones one by one onto the hat's front in the shape of the Red Sox's "B." She had also made green T-shirts that said "Face Time" on the front and "Round 4 - Tulsa, Omaha, Moline and Des Moines" on the back. This was obviously the fourth time they'd seen the guys.

This story is getting more detailed than anyone really cares, right? Sorry. I really liked this girl in front of me. She was super nice and chatty and just cool, and if I could look like her after I have this baby, I'd be way happy. If she didn't live in Manhattan, Kan., I'd have asked her out. Kidding.

So Jon came down the aisle first, offering high- (more like mid-) fives. I got one.

Then Joe came and then Jordan. Pretty sure I touched Jordan's arm.

Danny came (meh, who cares).

And then Donnie, who appeared to be walking down the aisle like everyone else. When he got to us, though, he stopped, sort of pushed the security guard aside and gave this girl a chocolate-brown hand towel he'd been using and kissed her. On the lips.

It was incredible, mostly because it was so unexpected. And it happened right there. And to a girl I sort of knew.

She screamed. "I got a smooch!"

I remember yelling, "Oh my God!"

Her sister gave her a hug.

Though it was weird - and it probably sounds weird to everyone who is not and never was a true New Kids fan -- this was a big deal. Those of us around her, I think, were genuinely happy for her. I was at least.

The concert continued, and it was all good. Jordan sang "Baby, I Believe in You," his shirt blowing in the wind of a fan, and the guys (like they were when I saw them in Omaha in November) were appreciative and happy and enthusiastic and genuinely seemed to be having a good time up there on stage.

I think performers don't do that enough these days.

So was a two-hour drive each way worth it?

Absolutely.

And I'm contemplating figuring out how long it would take to drive to Wichita this summer - the next time the boys from Boston will be nearby.

Super hero day

How can you not love this costume?

The Star Wars shirt with the knight's mask and a cape that I'm pretty sure was made to look like dragon scales. Great.

Rye is in super hero mode right now, and I must say I'm liking that better than the Star Wars fascination that came before. He still likes Star Wars, he tells me, but just not as much. At least all those action figures won't go the way of the Thomas the Tank Engine trains just yet.

So never the one to deny anyone their object of obsession, I suggested we go to "Super Hero Day" at the Lincoln Children's Museum yesterday.

The coolest characters there weren't Batman or Spiderman. They were the Storm Troopers from Star Wars. They looked so real, they were almost intimidating.

The place was crazy, of course, filled with kids dressed up like their own version of Superman and Batman. Little caped crusaders running recklessly everywhere.

We were there about two hours and that was plenty for me. Rye said several times afterward how much fun he had. So that made the effort worth it.

We ate at Valentino's beforehand:


And here they are with the Storm Troopers: