It must be this crazy weather.

We had a bit of a rough evening here. Gabe did that awesome toddler thing where he would intentionally create a small disaster, and then while I was cleaning it up, he would relocate and create another small disaster. For example, he refused his dinner in a definitive manner (he threw part of it on the floor), then while I was cleaning up dinner, he got into the pantry and managed to create a small shower of Rice Krispies in one corner of the kitchen. Then, while I was cleaning that up, he got a mostly-empty Diet Coke can out of the recycling bin, some orange peels out of the trash can, and combined the two decidedly icky items to make a very sticky art project in the opposite corner of the kitchen floor.

Wheeee.

Just when I was feeling super exhausted and approaching the end of my rope (and huge to boot - I look like a cartoon character with my ginormous belly), it was bedtime. We did our normal bedtime routine of milk and stories and rocking, and then I dimmed the light. We cuddled in the rocking chair for a few minutes when Gabe suddenly hugged me very, very tightly and said, in his sleepy voice, "I got you. Doan worry. I got you."

Much to my surprise I felt tears in my eyes. (Damn pregnancy hormones.) I hugged him just as tightly and said, "I got you too, baby." Then, after a moment or two, I settled back in the chair to rock more easily.

He was not having that. He grabbed my wrist and placed my hand on his back, where it had been during the hugging a minute before. "More hand, Mommy. More hand."

"Of course, baby," I replied, tears blurring my vision now. "Of course." He nuzzled his chin into my chest, curled his body around my belly as best he could, and thirty seconds later he was fast asleep.

Orange peels, Diet Coke, chicken, Rice Krispies all on the floor...all forgotten. It sometimes astonishes me how very much I love that little person.

Books, etc.

I keep seeing all these blog posts where people have committed to reading 50 books in 2010, or even 75 books in 2010. I could get that done no problem, assuming "Meet the Gabba Gang" with Yo Gabba Gabba counts towards my total. If you count "Professor Wormbog and the Search for the Zipparump-a-Zoo" then I am well on my way to 100 books and it's only January.

(Off-topic note: I went on Amazon.com today to try and buy a copy of Professor Wormbog for a friend's child, only to discover it is out of print and worth $125.00. One hundred twenty five dollars, people. Clearly I should not let Gabe be touching our copy with his grimy applesauce hands, ever ever ever.)

So I rule at reading books. I kind of fail at blogging though. I kind of fail at a lot of things related to motherhood these days, including:

• Uploading/organizing Christmas and Hanukkah pictures. I have not done any of this. I haven't even looked at them to delete the bad ones. Instead, the approximately 658 pictures we took throughout the holidays are merely cluttering up every single one of our memory cards, thus ensuring that if Baby #2 decides to make an early arrival there will be absolutely no way to document the momentous event. MEMORY CARD FULL, you know. That's what we will tell her.
  
• Organizing Baby #2's room. This one is not strictly my fault, as we are waiting on some minor construction on the condo to be finished. It's scheduled to wrap up January 25th, which gives me five full days to assemble the baby's room. Don't say I don't plan ahead. Because clearly, I timed this one with excellent precision.
  
• Convincing Gabe to brush his teeth in any sort of effective manner. I live in constant terror that he's going to be the only two-year-old ever with cavities. The toothbrush spends approximately twelve seconds in his mouth, and then twelve minutes "cweaning walls. I cweaning." It's gross.
  

In better news, here are some things I am good at:

• Having heartburn.
  
• Growing a really gigantic baby. Seriously, at my 35 week appointment last Monday the ultrasound technician told me the baby was estimated to weigh in around 7 pounds, 3 ounces. Dr. M predicts a nine-pounder if I continue at this rate. (!!!) Then he laughed heartily about how her head was measuring huge and I was lucky I was scheduled for a repeat c-section. Ha ha.
  
• Throwing up. (Sorry. Pregnancy is not pretty, kids.)
• Frantically trying to wrap up projects at work since this Friday is my last day before maternity leave, several of which I am behind on because I have spent too much time at work staring out the window and daydreaming about/mooning over upcoming baby. (Not doing anything practical like ordering newborn sized diapers or onesies, mind you. Just mooning.)
  
• Laughing until I cry when Gabe says "Peace out, friends" and flashes a peace sign at his teachers and classmates as we leave daycare. (I have some stellar video of this action, but putting it into this post would of course involve me actually, you know, uploading some video, and clearly that's not going to happen tonight.)

OK. Must go to sleep now. Will try to do better. I probably won't, because of the newborn coming to live at my still-under-construction house, but I promise to try. Peace out, friends.