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Anne's Pregnancy Journal

22 weeks 5 days
~ Crazy productive

Today I had another totally nurturing prenatal appointment -- all is well, as usual! AND hubby Matt was able to come along. The midwives had been noting that they didnít really know him very well, and I thought it was time for him to hear the babyís heartbeat via fetoscope. Karen and Christy very patiently assisted him in acclimating to the subtleties of listening through fetoscope, and after some gentle adjustments, he got to hear our Smallumusí little heart thumping away. * sigh * Life is good.

Weíve had a busy week. The hardwood floors were indeed rid of their paint drips, with much scraping and scrubbing (thank you Beth, for the time spent on your knees helping with that). Our floors, at least in the painted areas are now extremely clean! Part of the prep for painting had been to move things that had been in the babyís room into the guest room, which had been temporarily divested of a bed. Well, my friend Robin from Minnesota arrived for a visit today, and he needed a place to sleep. That meant getting everything back out of the guest room and setting up a bed in there again.

We had intended to spend Sunday working our buns off again, but by the time Sunday came, we were toast, so we opted for a day off, catching up on our Friday night Sci-Fi habit (Stargate SG-1, Stargate Atlantis, and the best show on TV now, Battlestar Galactica). And we napped. Most of the day. It was good.

Anyway, you donít really want to know all the stuff we did this week, so suffice to say, we found a new level of efficiency in ourselves. Now, I should tell you that we were toast on Sunday because on Saturday, we had a rocking good time! Mattís aunt Carol is turning 50 this September, and her family and friends planned a surprise party par excellence. She and brother Joe (Mattís dad) are going on Safari next year together to celebrate her 50th year, so the party was safari themed, except for the band.

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The band. Mulch. Yes, thatís the name. With that name goes the tag ďIt ainít topsoil, baby . . . ď Very cute. And good! Anyway, Mulch practices in our basement every Friday night (that means we tape Sci-Fi). Why at our house? Because Matt is the drummer, thatís why. And, we bought a house with a finished basement so the guys would all have a place to play -- itís a great party zone, too! So, Mulch learned an entire Beatles set for Carolís party, because she LOVES The Beatles. What was even better is that she had no idea that the party was happening. Well, she suspected, but Matt lied to her for the first time in his life, and he told her he was going to be going to Denver this weekend for a Sierra Club meeting. She bought it totally, and the first 15 minutes of her surprise party, she walked around with her mouth hanging open dumbfounded. Hee hee! Now thatís a successful surprise party!

Why tell you about a party? Well, the music was really loud, and I got be the tambourine girl for ďDrive my CarĒ and ďDaytripper,Ē and I was certain that practicing with the band and playing with them, standing three feet from the kick drum, that Smallumus Kicksabunch would live up to the name. Not a peep, not a twitch, not a tickle. I donít know if this kid slept through, or listened intently, or was just pummeled into inactivity, but that baby didnít move a millimeter. Iíve heard stories of women getting their guts kicked out around loud music, but this one just quiets right down. Must be because daddyís a drummer!

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