Little Things

There is a lot on the brain of Amelia right now.  I could write about it all in one post, but I think that since it is Saturday morning and I consequently have some time, I'll break it up into Little Things and a Major Thing.

The weather has been overcast and gloomy for close to two weeks.  When it isn't raining, there is a sloppy wet snow, or just dark grey clouds producing nothing at all.  While I generally like melancholy weather, the extension of this gloom is making me increasingly morose and majorly less energetic.  I really have been attempting to get through a day this week without crying, but it hasn't happened yet.  Would it be possible for us to live in England someday?  Or would we turn into the Brontes?

According to various and sundry bits of Baby-related literature, the Baby Rodgers is going to be on a weight-gain spurt for a while.  This is proven by the insatiable hunger that has been dominating my life for the past week.  I wake up: "Sorry, Steve, I've got to get up and eat something...now."  Steve comes home from work: "Hi, Steve, but I'm starving and we need to eat supper...now."  I eat about five meals in the morning, a normal-ish lunch, a substantial snack in the afternoon, a healthy helping of supper and a snack before bed.  And I'm never "stuffed."  Yesterday was a big kicker: a bowl of oatmeal with peanut butter, two eggs and an apple, and a Totino's Party Pizza.  All before 10am.  I know this won't go on forever, but it is amusing for a person who was rarely to never hungry before becoming great with child.  Steve says that now I know what a teenage boy feels like.  Wonderful.  It is comforting to realize that I'm never over-eating and that I am burning a ton of calories between being very active at work and around the house, in addition to doing rigorous exercise 3-5 times a week.

The living room is re-arranged.  Moving furniture and creating a different "look" for living spaces thrills me to to end (even when the furniture in unexpected places does scare me when I bumble around in the wee sma's).  It's definitely an improvement to sit on the couch and look at a lovely little bookshelf and out the window at the Catholics instead of the pile of laundry in the bedroom and the (sometimes) full sink of dishes.  Tee-hee.  Florianus, however, is not as impressed.  He thought that the furniture belonged to him and that he was entitled to sit upon it at will, jump on the backs and look out the windows and bark at the Catholics.  Now it is arranged so that he can do nothing of the territorial sort.  But we discovered this morning that when he sits on the back of the couch he is eye-level with the dining room table and can look longingly and pathetically at the plates of food.  I also discovered that when I leave the room for a moment, I will lose whatever is left of my french toast.  Drat that dog.

Okay.  Moving on to A Major Thing.