What a difference a year makes...to my waist.

In this hot weather I find myself thinking a lot about last summer and how big I was getting by this point in July. Every time I climbed a set of stairs I half walked, half hung by the railing. I always got a seat on the T. I could send Scott off to the store for any food I could think of, and he'd go fetch it for me. (He probably still would, but this would be more of a shrewish thing to do now that I am not pregnant.) When I got out of bed, from sleeping on my back which was the only possible position for sleep, a would totter back and forth like a weeble before I got my balance. And there was always someone swimming right underneath my ribs who would sometimes raise a foot or a hand out where I could feel it for a second. I still kind of miss being pregnant, a special citizen, a great big bus of good will every where I went. I miss-- I admit it-- the attention. There's plenty of attention for Audrey but I feel less like I can claim her as my own accomplishment. I say "thank you" when someone says "cute kid!" but it's sort of like taking credit for the weather.

There are things about this summer that I feel a certain nostalgia for already. In particular, I am smitten with the sight of my adult-size swimsuit and Chickpea's little tiny swimsuit drip-drying side by side. For some reason the sight of my slightly dowdy Speedo and her little pink suit lined up there together makes me feel very officially someone's mother.