Bousillage

Mom bought these little dresses for Peachick, and though I initially hung them in her closet, they're so sweet that I just had to pull them out. Every time I walk through her room, I see them and my heart does little flips akin to the ones I experienced when Mike and I first started dating. Maybe this is what life is all about.

Little birds and the poem "All Things Bright and Beautiful," have both become recurring themes in the nursery, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Bousillage (pronounced "BOOS-ee-ahsh") is a Creole word that literally means "big mess." It describes a style of Colonial French architecture in which a combination of mud, sand, horse hair, and whatever else settlers could find was used to make the walls of their homes. It was practical, provided good insulation, and most importantly, was very strong: many Colonial homes along the River Road were constructed with bousillage and are still standing today, despite hurricanes that wreak havoc on the region.

It's a word I associate with Peachick often lately: she's a strong big mess. She must have some Creole in her because she and I both adore spicy stuff. Tabasco on pizza is a particular favorite. She has recovered from her shyness around her daddy and kicks the heck out of me when he's around and she hears his voice. She delights in poking and prodding me while I'm trying to focus on a hard puzzle, and oh my, is she a night owl.

And strong! We had a great appointment with Dr. K last week, and he said her heartbeat was impressive. I passed the gestational diabetes test with flying colors and rather enjoyed the sugar high induced by the glucola. That's the strongest stuff I've had since April, and I can't imagine what a lightweight I'll be come January. Peachick had a party in my pelvis while we worked the glucose off together.

She's quiet during our morning walks with Dante, so I have a feeling she'll enjoy being rocked to sleep, and I can't wait to watch Mike rock her. Dante thinks she's the bees knees. I wish you could see him gently head-butt my belly when we're on the couch together. Then he settles in with his head right against me, just waiting for Peachick to join him in the outside world. I have a feeling they'll be good buddies.

My belly is burgeoning, and we can see her moving around, which is kind of a trip. Mike is having a more difficult time in the evenings finding a spot for his head just before we turn off the light, but somehow we manage it. He can even hear her heart beating just by laying his head against me.

Things are just rocking right along. We're looking forward to meeting this big mess. Our own Bousillage.