Fashion police

One of my mild worries about going through the whole pregancy/childbirth/breastfeeding cycle again was that I was going to backslide into living in the town of Frumpville again.

Now, I don't regret my days there, as when you have lots of little people with lots of very intense needs, anything beyond basic grooming and just getting dressed and showered in the morning is gravy.

But I've had a good four years of indulging in a higher level of self-care, including eating very well -- and dressing well (for me). And that has been nice, too. I'm a lot healthier, and my husband is happier.

Since I have teenagers, though, even once the baby is here, I probably won't be able to slack on the self-care as much as I had in the past. At least, not without getting a bunch of crap.

The other day, late for the doctor, I needed to find something that a) fit and b) was clean. So, I dug into a bag of my hand-me-down maternity clothes, many of which I haven't worn -- for size or style issues.

I found a big, longish, sleeveless jumper-type dress, which I threw on over a shirt. I knew it wasn't a particularly great outfit, but -- heck -- how much do I really care at this point?

When I got home, my 13-year-old told me I looked just like a pregnant Michelle Duggar. Now, I think Michelle Duggar is sweet, but she's no fashionista. She has modesty standards that far exceed mine.

So, clearly, when I visit Frumpville from now on, I am going to hear about it. I have Fashion Police now.

Carmelized cauliflower

Here's one of my favorite (and easiest) recipes:

Take cut-up cauliflower and put in on a cookie sheet or roasting pan. Mist or dip in olive oil.

Sprinkle cumin or chili powder (optional).

Cook at 375 degrees until the cauliflower is crunchy and blackened and carmelized. (It will reduce by more than half.)

39.5 weeks

I'm still pregnant, still feeling good and still very happy with my OB.

She offered to check me this morning, which means give an internal exam, but it's pretty clear the only reason she offered it is that a lot of women want it.

She said that the only way it would help her would be if it turned out I was in active labor and should go to the hospital. Otherwise, it doesn't tell anything about how soon this baby will come. So I passed.

Ms. Empathy

Paul's latest complaint is how it seems like he's going to the doctor and dentist all the time.

I, of course, have absolutely no sympathy for the Old Man. Between me and the four kids -- braces, pregnancy, etc., etc., I am really there all the time.

Food

I had a great score on the clearance rack of a nearby grocery store yesterday, so I'm cooking up a storm. The 13-year-old's recent vegetarianism poses very few cooking challenges because I've been vegan and vegetarian before myself. It's more logistics. I hope to have a bunch of things prepared -- or close to it -- before baby arrives.

These cannot be my children

My 13-year-old and I made chocolate chip cookie bars to take to a church event this evening.

She did most of the work, but I put everything in the pan. Which meant getting batter all over my hands. And smelling the vanilla. And butter. And sugar.

When I was done, I had a bowl with the remnants of the dough in it, as well as a wooden spoon.

I went around the house, asking everyone if they wanted to clean out the bowl for me.

I got exactly zero takers. That to me is some small sign that my food issues have not been passed down. I would never have turned down cookie dough as a child, young adult or obese woman.