Happy Times

Good times this week! I won't complain about how having a holiday off in the middle of the week threw off everyone's rhythm and made us all a little crazy. Sometimes crazy is good. Believe me, if someone offered to let me have Wednesdays off for the rest of my life, I would not hesitate for one second.

We'd been talking up the fireworks thing for a couple of weeks with Arlo, because this year was his first fireworks show. I remember way back when (2001?) my sister's little boy, Michael, then three, experienced his first (I think) fireworks display, and he did not like it one bit. I remember Michael crying and holding his hands over his ears. But then, his mom and dad had just moved him overseas from Denmark to the States, and they'd only arrived (in Florida, in the insufferable July heat) the day before... so you can't call his reaction standard, necessarily. And you certainly couldn't blame him.

We weren't sure how our boy would react--but, true to Arlo form, he embraced the experience with rapt wonder, and general enthusiasm. He stayed up way past his bedtime, with the only noticeable (and possibly unrelated) effect being a temporary dip in his potty-training progress.

Even three days later, while we were driving in the car, he burst out with a spontaneous "BOOM! Crackle, crackle, crackle!" from the back seat. These were sounds we practiced in preparation for the big show, in my attempt to make him understand that it would be very noisy and FUN. Apparently it was a successful tactic.

Saturday was Mara & Rockne's annual Pig Roast--an event that seems to get better with each passing year. That's where the photo above was taken, by the hostess herself. Big fun! You can see more pics right here on Mara's flickr page.

Last week my regular obstetric visit to the doctor yielded a troublingly high blood sugar reading, so I had to go back to the lab on Friday for additional testing, to diagnose or rule out gestational diabetes. And by additional testing, I mean a grueling morning with no food except for a bottle of hell's own nectar (the glucose solution they make you drink on an empty stomach), and hourly blood draws for three hours. Did I mention I wasn't allowed to eat?

NOT EATING is my number-one least favorite thing to do in the morning.

All in all, it actually was not as miserable as I expected (if you ignore the fact that, after my morning at the lab, the car wouldn't start and I had to get it towed... but anyway). In fact, it ended up being a pretty tolerable morning involving a LOT of knitting, and catching up on some podcasts that I'd been saving for a rainy day.

The best part- I finally got the call from my doctor's office this morning, and I do NOT have gestational diabetes! Though it would have been completely manageable and temporary if I had been diagnosed (it goes away when the baby is born), I would have had to go on a very strict diet, and possibly deal with insulin injections and such. Not to mention worries about the baby's health, and the micromanagement of every morsel of food I would consider allowing to pass my lips.

But HA! Keep the ice cream coming, people. I dodged a bullet this time. Pass the brownies, please.