A month later, I reappear. Let's see, what's happened in that time?

First, we packed our boys into my mother's borrowed SUV and hied ourselves up to Yosemite for a semi-camping adventure. Semi in that there were no tents involved - we stayed at Housekeeping Camp. There was a massive wildfire nearby which rerouted us in and out of the park and cast a smokey haze most days, but all of us thoroughly enjoyed the trip. Smoke aside, we kind of hit a sweet spot, going mid-week just after school started back up. I very much want to go back again sometime.

Then we had our trio of September birthdays - Squiddle, Jazzy, and Wonderful Husband - happen, followed almost immediately by all three of them getting taken down by Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease. Wonderful Husband (who has skin problems already) got it bad enough that he was admitted to the hospital for three days. Not fun for anyone! Fortunately for my sanity, my parents were able to have Squiddle stay with them one night. I didn't get it. Don't know why - my mother doesn't remember me having any previous exposure. Maybe it was just the universe being kind and saying "no, the mama can't get sick too."

But now everyone is recovered. Hooray! And this afternoon I took the boys to the Long Beach Aquarium of the Pacific. Since we have an annual membership, why not? That, combined with Finding Dory, and the Octonauts and Finding Dory games Squiddle has for his LeapPad, seem to be fostering an interest. As I rocked him this evening, I got told all about how octopuses and jellies have "tentatles" (yes, that is how he pronounces it) and how sea stars have eyes at the ends of their arms. ^_^

40 weeks today. The turkey-is-done button (bellybutton) has metaphorically popped. Jazzy can decant anytime now. (Squiddle was four days over, so probably not today? I'm hoping for tomorrow, because then later I'll get to tell the story about going into labor on Labor Day.) Everything is ready - even the double stroller has arrived, been assembled, and is Squiddle-approved. (We ended up going with this one, which is the doubled version of the one we've been using for the last three years. Wider and slightly inconvenient, I know, but NONE of the front-and-back strollers fit our two-year-old!)

Yesterday was our family get-together for the holiday weekend. And even though we arrived 45 minutes late (due to me stupidly miscalculating when the bread I was making would be done), we were the first to arrive at my parents'. I got the very nice compliment, when asked if we would be having any more kids and I explained the sharp increase in genetic problems for post-40 moms, that I didn't look 40. Funny thing is, I don't. (My parents both have long looked younger than their younger siblings. Good genes? A more relaxed lifestyle? Take your pick.) Nor do I feel it. I've always, always, been a "late bloomer." In high school I was still referring to my age group and peers as "kids." I quite literally only started dating because of peer pressure to do so.

My late grandmother kept turning 39 every year for decades. I'm not going to do that. I'm going to claim my age. Like a fine wine or stinky cheese, I keep getting better with age. :) But just because I'm 40 doesn't mean I'm going to be, act, or feel like what everyone "expects" 40 to be. As the song says - "Age is just a number. Don't you stop having fun."

(And bonus points to anyone who KNOWS what song I'm referring to and who sang it. '90s pop!)

Today is going to be a day of getting last-minute work done around the house. Including, hopefully, taming some of the sprawled mass of stuff that has somehow engulfed the living room. Some of it's mine, and the fault of my quilting hobby. Some of it's stuff that's gotten pulled down from the rafters where we stored it until the baby came. But all in all it's just too much mess right now, and I'm sick of it.

Another birthday done and gone. I actually couldn't figure out how old I am now until I opened the card from my parents, which gave me the number. I don't bother acting my age, or feeling it, so why should I bother to remember it? Maybe I should just do what my maternal grandmother did, and be eternally 29. Otherwise I get depressed that I'm a first-time mother at my age. My twentieth high school reunion (which I missed, being on vacation visiting friends and family instead) was this year, and I only now have an almost-toddler. Just saying.

In any case, I received some very nice gifts. The Transformers: Animated DVD set, so I can finally rewatch season 3 (and all its Jazz-and-Prowl moments!), the La Mode Bagatelle Regency Wardrobe pattern (squee!), two Guy Gavriel Kay books I've really wanted to read, the 20 years of Dreamworks animated films artbook, and an ableskiver pan (mwahaha... I shall learn to make not merely circular, but spherical pancakes!). Wonderful Husband also took me to see Maleficent before it left theaters. There were some WTF moments ("Um, why is she suddenly wearing a catsuit?"), but some quite good ones as well ("You're my fairy godmother!" "What.") so we both enjoyed it.

Today we went to Ikea to get the second out of three sets of bookcase doors that we need, given Squiddle has now learned both the joy of tearing paper, and the skill of deshelving books. Fortunately he has not yet combined these, so we're attempting to cut him off at the pass. And the Ikea parking lot was about as crowded as I've ever seen it, and we discovered (partly) why. Buy $100 or over of furniture merchandise, and your meal in the restaurant is free. Well, we were buying $100 worth of doors, and had planned to be having lunch there anyway.... And they're repeating this special a few more times this year, and we need to get two more doors anyway. ^_^ So not quite gaming the system, but if they want to feed us for free, fine by us. Lingonberry saft for everyone!

During what is probably the hottest birthday weekend I've experienced in decades, today it hit 93 degrees inside the house. Wonderful Husband and I are drinking lots of liquid (particularly me, as while I am looking forward to Squiddle being an external rather than internal phenomenon, I do not particularly want to share my birthday), sitting under fans, and taking the housework we intended to get done this weekend slowly, bit by bit. And ducking into the shower for a cool rinse-off whenever our sweat tolerances become exceeded.

(Yes, whine whine whine first world problems. This is still the reason we are agreed that we will never move further inland, no matter how cheap housing is in Riverside or Temecula.)

Birthday dinner was at Lucille's. Yummy! Every time we go there, I order a half-plate of fried okra. And every time, I have to remind myself that no, I don't want to grow okra next year. If nothing else, I lack a deep fryer. And I'm not going to get one, either, because that's a slippery slope that leads inevitably to deep-fried Twinkies and other county fair food.

Had a good birthday. Got stuff done at work; my desk is clear for Tuesday. Went to the Lucille's in Orange for dinner; it was closer, smaller, and less crowded than the one in Brea, with well-done 1950s diner decor, but Wonderful Husband and myself both marginally prefer the other.

Spent today vacillating between getting stuff done and trying to figure out what needed to get done. Watered all the house plants and the backyard roses. Transplanted the tangerine tree into the half-whiskey barrel and harvested the new batch of compost. Transplanted the plumerias and aloe plant into 3x bigger pots. Did up pots to try and root the strawberry runners. Massacred the demon bougainvilla again, and cut back some small tree branches that were fouling the skychair's line and/or shading the fruit trees. Weeded a little. Harvested four plants' worth of tomatoes, which filled the big basket; I love the Bloody Butcher variety, as they're so very productive. Need to can those tomorrow. Poked at the 401's tension mechanism, but failed to budge the screw. Smoothed some spackle. Made sun tea, washed dishes. Tacos for dinner.

All weekends should be three-day weekends, because that way I can actually feel like I'm getting stuff accomplished.