we don't do normal

This is the post in which I reveal just how quirky I can be, and how bizarre things can get around here.

A couple of mornings ago Nathan was getting ready to leave for a class, and I was still lying in bed, slowly waking up.

And I said to him, joking of course, "Will you come lick the morning crusties out of my eyes like a mother cat?"

And he replied, "No, I don't have time; I'm running late."

Like my request was totally normal. (It wasn't.)

Like we do that kind of thing around here all the time. (We don't.)

Like if he hadn't been running late, he would have gladly obliged. (I hope not.)

Maybe he was being funny.

Or maybe he hadn't been paying close attention to the nature of my request.

We may never know.

But in the meantime...

Every time I think about this scenario...

I laugh until I cry.

It just cracks me up.

{But as we know, everything cracks me up these days.}

Okay, so we're pretty weird. But we like it that way. We think "normal" people are, well, a little boring.

24 weeks

Dear friends, I should mention that if you say anything along the lines of, "You're getting big," I might punch you.

You may, however, say, "The baby is getting big." That is allowed.

A very important distinction. Consider yourselves notified.

ten little life things

ONE

It snowed last night! This has been a super unusual Boston winter so far, with this being only our second little snowfall, at least of any amount that really counts.

TWO

Earlier this week we witnessed quite a spectacle at the mall. This kid, maybe seven or so, was having a tantrum because the cookie his mom bought at Panera wasn't the kind he wanted. He screamed, he ran in circles, he tried to run away from her, he tried hiding around corners, and eventually he threw himself down and made a dead weight of himself while his poor mother, no doubt mortified, finally just dragged him by the arms, screaming, out of the mall and to the parking lot. And we could hear him screaming all. the. way. to. their. car. Oh man. Nathan and I were trying not to stare, and kept looking at each other like "Wait, we're having one of our own? What have we done?!"

THREE

It's kind of a relief to be past the point where I could even think about wearing my regular jeans. I hated that awkward, in-between stage of being thicker around the middle, feeling like I swallowed a cantaloupe whole, yet still being able to technically squeeze into my jeans. I didn't look pregnant but I sure did feel fat. I think that most people are probably just so used to feeling guilty and badly when their clothes get a little too snug, that even if one intellectually knows that this time it's for a good reason... well, for some reason it still made me feel badly about myself. And I didn't need that in my life.

So these days I embrace my pregnant pants.

And I find myself wondering why people don't wear elastic waisted pants all the time? They are comfortable. It's like wearing pajamas all day, and who hasn't wished they could do that?

FOUR

Aren't these earrings cute? But I am not buying them. Behold my restraint. Earrings are nice, but a baby will be nicer. And that baby will need diapers and things, so you know how it goes.

FIVE

It is time. School is back in full swing and I must get a good practice regimen going, seeing as how I have to give a master's degree recital this semester. Violin, you and I will be spending some quality time together. We can do this! {That's me trying to be motivated. Was it convincing?}

SIX

Hey Boston area friends who are pregnant or may become pregnant! Check out the livingsocial deal for Mighty Aphrodite, a maternity consignment shop in Salem. I went there a few weeks ago with Nathan and I can tell you, any more maternity clothes I need to buy will also be coming from there. Cute clothes from designer labels without the high price tag. And if you're not expecting, but you know someone who is, you can also buy the deal as a gift! {And oh hey, if three people use my link, I get mine for free. So do it.}

SEVEN

Want to know something sad? My husband just doesn't get instagram. I keep trying to show him how fun it is that you can make a picture look a dozen different ways with a tap of the finger, but he remains unimpressed.

He's like, "Oh nice, so you ruined the color in the photo and made yourself look all washed out."

We've been known to fight about it.

And then I have to take instagrams of him and ruin his coloring for revenge, obvi.

EIGHT

Restful sleep is hard to come by these days. I have never minded sleeping on my side, but now that it's the only option {they say you're not supposed to sleep on your back when you're pregnant, and the stomach sleeping is out for obvious reasons}, I find that I wake up throughout the night with my shoulders all compressed in towards each other and it's quite miserable. After Baby makes his or her arrival in May, I am going to relish sleeping on my stomach again.

NINE

I found out late Monday night that the three rehearsals and two concerts that I thought were next week had been, unbeknownst to me, moved to this week. So I had to rearrange my schedule really quickly, and I'm cramming to get a few tricky passages of Shostakovich, Arensky, and Mendelssohn learned.

TEN

I think I need an exercise buddy. Someone who understands how hard it is to get your tushie out the door for a jog when it's below 20 degrees, but will do it with me anyway. Any takers? {Meeting at the gym for an indoor workout would also be acceptable.}

I'm linking up with Elizabeth from E TELLS TALES. Head on over there and check out her ten little things, and lots of others, too!

breakfast in bed

This morning Nathan had an early-morning breakfast appointment.

And by "early," I actually mean 8:00, but when you can't sleep on your back or your stomach and your body is achy and you had to get up five times in the night to use the restroom, 8:00 can seem sort of early, okay?

So, I stayed in bed.

And was still in bed, reading, when he got back at 9:30.

(If you read my last post, now is when you're beginning to conclude that I'm the laziest person in the world. Whoops, so much for putting my best foot forward for the blog.)

Anyway, Nathan returned home and placed this in front of me on the bed.

A chocolate chip bagel!

(Maybe you thought it looked like a cinnamon raisin bagel. And maybe I should have let you think that, because that would have been healthier, wouldn't it? So now you know I sleep too late and occasionally eat refined carbohydrates with chocolate for breakfast.)

I ate my bagel in bed, and it was then that I decided that I probably have the best husband in the world.

the beginning of the end

Today marked the first day of classes for both Nathan and me... the first day of our last semesters of grad school.

The time has really flown by. Compared to four years of undergrad, two years of a master's program feels really short.

Nathan had an 8:00 am class.

So naturally, I got up early to make him breakfast.

{Nope.}

Naturally, I was still snuggled in bed when he left at 6:15 to drive into Boston.

I had class at 3:00 pm. Much more reasonable, don't you think?

I may not have made breakfast, but I did make dinner for the two of us. Garlic basil linguine from Trader Joe's with alfredo sauce! (Which, by the way, is so easy to make that I never understand why people buy the stuff in a jar that has like twenty unpronounceable ingredients...)

His version:

Her version:

Mmm.

In four months, if all goes according to plan, we'll both be masters.

And parents!

Yes, big things ahead for us. May should be an exciting month.

a big self-esteem boost... or not

The following story has not been altered in any way for dramatic effect. These statements are recorded exactly as they occurred.

~~~~~~~~~~

young Montessori class violin student: Oh Sarah, seeing you today just reminded me of a scary dream I had last night.

me (laughing): Oh no! Do I look that scary?

violin student: No, I just mean, because you're an old lady and my dream was about an old lady.

me: ... this is not making me feel any better ...

~~~~~~~~~~

Kids. They're downright charming.

23 weeks

'

The Tormented Student

Oh, the funny things my students say and do.

A young student recently brought her practice chart to her lesson with a little note, scrawled in righteous indignation no doubt, written across the top.

Such dramatic language from an eight-year-old, right? I love it.

What she means, of course, is that her parents make her practice an acceptable amount, and sometimes withhold her current novel until she is finished with her practicing. The little bookworm has a hard time putting down a book to do much of anything else of her own accord, from what I understand.

Of course, this is the same student who gave me the cute Christmas card telling me how much she loves her violin lessons with me! Poor, tormented little student that she is, deprived of things and forced into violinistic slave labor.