Truant

This morning, I am skipping church. My sweet husband and Ms. Bee are dutifully making their way the four blocks, while I am still in my pajamas, curled up, or given my current condition you might say wedged, into an easy chair.

I went to bed early last night, because I was feeling very pregnant, and slept in (although that is a relative term) until the deliciously ungodly hour of 7:45 am. I am not being sarcastic, that is nearly two hours of extra, delicious, much needed sleep.

When my daugher finally came in to wake me up--and she did it very nicely except she switched her instructions from "Go give Mommy kisses and then turn the lights on," to "Turn the lights on in all their blazing glory and then jump on Mommy and give her affectionate kisses"--it was almost time to leave. Bee put her arms around me and very sweetly said, "I love you Mommy; you're a little bit smelly." I was thus excused.

So now I am eating cinnamon toast with cream cheese and having fruit tea, and contemplating the day ahead. It's cold outside today; autumn has finally arrived. While I may not be sitting on a pew this morning, I most certainly am counting my blessings.

Child's play

So I found myself playing "barfing dollies" this evening. It consisted of Bee having one of her dollies, Maggie, throwing up on herself (imaginary vomit, thank goodness) and then needing to have her clothes changed.

My job was to pretend to wash and iron the soiled clothes. I much prefer to make believe I'm doing the laundry than actually do it, so I was happy to oblige.

I am glad that Bee's experience with getting carsick on herself during our trip in the mountains has provided her with this new creative outlet. I am, however, not hoping for a live repeat performance.

Sunrise

Sometimes, I think that it is impossible to know how wrong things were until they start to go right again. I have had a few days to recover from all the excitement of having guests and traveling around the country. We have gotten back into our family routine.

When I think back to two months ago, which were so fraught with worry, I realize that I have spent much of the summer in a haze. A funk. A depression. A worry. I don't know what is the right word is for it, exactly, but maybe a better way to put it is that I have been focused completely inward, which is not, on the whole, a very healthy way to be.

Something happened on Friday. The veil lifted. I began to feel, for the first time in a long time, much more like myself. Or at least someone a bit happier than before. Maybe it is the excitement of potentially buying a house. Or just that fall has come. Or that I will be headed home soon. Or that with every passing week, my little kicker is getting bigger. Whatever it is/it was/will be, I think I'll just enjoy right now for a little while.

I love Saturday

Waking up and not having to go to work is always such a pleasure. Not that I was pleased when Bee started hollering that it was "morning time" at 5:20 am. We pulled out her book basket and sent her to her room to read by herself for a while. This worked splendidly until about 6 am when she came roaring back into our bedrooms, ready to start the day.

And why not? I have never been a morning person, but always manage to feel very accomplished whenever I get up early on the weekends and get things done. While Bee was busy playing "grocery store," We baked some fresh cinnamon rolls. We made them from scratch about a month ago, but it made so many that we froze half of them unbaked. All we had to do was let them defrost in the fridge overnight, and then pop them in the oven.

I took Max for a walk, was followed by a pair of very disreputable young men until they realized that I knew that they were following me. I made a beeline for the American Ambassador's residence and the guards that stand post out front. They declined to follow. It is a real shame that my neighborhood, which is very nice for Bucharest, is becoming less safe.

While I was out, my dear husband scrubbed Her Royal Highness's car seat for any last traces of last weekend's unfortunate carsickness adventure. After I returned, he took the car to be washed and vacuumed and got his hair cut. I did a couple loads of laundry and spent a lot of time playing "doctor" with Bee, and had all my toes bandaged. Fortunately, my role as a patient meant that I just had to lie on the couch and by then, I was tired.

Later on we went to the farmer's market and then to the mall and drank Starbucks and then I had the delight of 15 minutes of solo uninterrupted window shopping while Bee and her father sat by the fountain in the atrium. I will admit, I was fingering all those tiny newborn clothes.

Back at home, we had lunch and fought over every slice of the leftover pizza from last night's dinner. Then I fought with Bee about taking her nap, but guess what? I won. She is asleep. My husband is asleep. And right now, I have nothing to do but contemplate the rest of my busy day: make stock for soup, make soup, make bread, go to a party tonight. I love it. I love Saturday.

Romanian countryside

Bringing down the sheep

One of the pleasures of driving through the Romanian countryside this time of year is watching the shepherds bring their flocks of sheep (or goats) down from their high summer pastures. A shepherd's life, while much romanticized in folklore, is lonely and hard. I think they must be glad to be headed home.

Behind the times

I have certainly not lacked things to write about these past few weeks. What I haven't had a lot of, however, is free time. We have had a wonderful full house since mid August, a rotating succession of family and friends, constant entertainment for Miss Bee, long meals at restaurant and over 1,000 miles of travel, all over Romania. No more travel in Romania for us for a long while.

While the house is quiet again, but our lives are anything but. We are having a baby, trying to secure our next job assignment, buying a house. Bee turns three in October and we want to have a Halloween party for her. So much to think about. My mind is honeycombed with: "We need to. . . " "I must remember. . . " What if. . .?"

Despite all the constant buzzing of future plans and contingencies, the months of the year are sneaking past. September is well underway. October is looming. November, I fly home. In December, I'll have another little daughter for Christmas. There couldn't be a sweeter end to the year.