Friday, I'm in Love. {the Cure}

I don't care if Monday's blue

Tuesday's gray and Wednesday too

Thursday I don't care about you

It's Friday, I'm in love ...

On weekends, our family tries to put the haste of the week behind us.  We linger over breakfast on Saturday and Sunday.  We lounge in our pajamas - a bit longer than necessary.  We may even have a "during-the-week-time-forbidden" snack mid-morning, like homemade chocolate chip muffins. 

Fortunately, I stay home so my entire week is, more or less, a weekend.  Monday to Sunday.  Weekly.   I bask in the warmth of little daughter's laughter, her curiosity, her penchant for busy-ness.  I welcome oldest daughter's arrival home from school.  I am conscious of the "little things".  We go outside for bubbles, or chalk, or a brisk early swim, or a walk to look at blooming flowers (before the tedious homework begins).

But on Friday, when everyone returns home for two entire days - we are in love.  In love with our time together.  In love with our interaction.  In love with "family time".  In love, perhaps, with having no plans except the spontaneous ones. 

Although, there are moments... you know the kind of moments... where you want to leave the house (alone) and return hours later.  Or Monday morning. 

So,I turn my head and delusionally deny the imperfection.  For these are the weekends my children will recall with happiness of their childhood memories. 

It's Friday, I'm in Love!

in denial ...

Reclining in room number 5 of my OB's clinic.  I am admiring the blank monitor as it reads my name and birthdate and baby's estimated due date when the ultrasound tech enters room 5. 

She begins to prep me for my ultrasound to (a.) determine gender and (b.) verify that the baby is healthy.

Ultrasound tech begins to move the wand over my belly, "abracadabra, show me a sign".  "Abracadabra, baby move your legs".

The brain looks great.  The heart is beating at 147 bpm.  There are four chambers, whew.  The spine is good.  The flesh at the base of the neck is in proportion.  Baby is cooperating.  The wand magically sweeps below the bottom and ...
I shout, "IT's A BoY!"

The ultrasound tech did not acknowledge my shout, so I did it again, "IT's A BoY!" 

She responded this time, "Actually, that is the umbilical cord."

You know, I have had so many ultrasounds in all my pregnancies that I clearly knew how to read one.  So I asked her to show me again.  And again.  And again. 

Exasperated, she finally went to get the Doctor.  The real ultrasound reading professional.

Doctor entered the room and waved the magic wand over my belly and declared, "Please give my condolences to your husband.  No single household should have that much estrogen under one roof." 

the equivalent of a litter

Occasionally, I have crazy, non-fantastical, disturbing, lunatic-like, wake up in a sweat kind of dreams. 

My latest nightmare:

I was at the obgyn's office for my first ultrasound because I thought I was pregnant.  "How can that be at my age?" is what you are really thinking!  [perhaps, I have not admitted my real age]  Well, I did fall pg ... and I am sure you all know how that *technically* happens.  And if you don't ... I am sure there is plenty of "how-to" literature on the 'net and blogosphere. 

So, at the obgyn's for the more favorable "check" ... an ultrasound to determine if I am truly pg.  As if the bloodwork is going to lie.  AND, the bloodwork numbers have been extremely HIGH.  Ultrasound tech #1 did the scan and abruptly stopped.  I questioned her reaction.  She reassured me that she just needed Dr. C's second opinion.  So Dr. C entered the room to review the ultrasound machine.  Shortly after viewing my internal baby holding cell, he exclaimed, "You are having the equivalent of a litter!" 

"So was it "SUPER SWIMMERS" or Was it "SUPER OVA"?  I curiously, quietly question.