Soon after Charlotte arrived, I began to wonder if she might be pregnant with twins. I mean, she was due after Emma, and yet she looked so much bigger.

Charlotte’s third pregnancy was twins (she miscarried them when she was about six months along), and when some quick Googling revealed that about five percent of dairy cows give birth to twins (which is about three times more often than beef cows), and that cows are more likely to have twins if they’ve had twins before, I reasoned there was a decent chance she might, in fact, be carrying twins again.

So I set up an appointment for the vet to come out to check her. I wanted to get a more exact due date, find out how many calves we might be dealing with, and stock up on any emergency birthing supplies we might need. But when I told my husband, he said, “What’s the vet gonna tell us? Either Charlotte’s carrying twins or she isn’t.” 

I texted Charlotte’s former owner. “She’s a wider cow than Emma,” he texted back. “She looks pregnant even when she isn’t.”

So I canceled the vet appointment and dropped the issue. But then just a couple days ago, Charlotte’s former owner swung by. “Oh,” he said, when he saw her. “Um, yeah, she’s huge. She might be carrying twins.”

The earliest Charlotte’s due is (was) September 20, but since that date came and went and she’s still showing no signs of bagging up, I’m thinking her due date is more like October 15-20. That’s a few weeks yet, but even so, I’m edgy. How much bigger can she get? 

My husband lays eyes on her every morning and evening, but is he really looking at her, I wonder? So this morning when I noticed she was parked like a tank on stilts in the pasture up by the chicken coop, I ran down to check on her. She looks healthy and acts normal — she’s eating well, she’s alert, she’s curious — but I just can’t get over how big she is! I doubt she could squeeze through the door of the milking shed, and I’m almost positive there’s no way she could fit in the milking stall. 

I snapped a whole bunch of photos, trying to capture the enormity of her, but it was only later when I was back in the house going through the photos that I realized how lopsided she is.

Her left hip is lower and more apple shaped while the right side is higher and dramatically pear-shaped. What does this mean? Any experts out there who know how to interpret a cow’s pregnancy just by looking at her?

Anyway, we’re all making guesses as to how many calves are inside her. I think two. Wanna place bets? 

This same time, years previous: wedding buns, church, the quotidian (9.28.20), for my birthday, hey-hey, look who’s here!, you’re invited…, welcome home to the circus, the myth of the hungry teen, the quotidian (9.29.14), chocolate birthday cake.

The other day at kickboxing, we got on the subject of nighttime peeing and I learned that some people sleep the whole night without getting up once. I was flabbergasted. A whole night without a single trip to the bathroom? I can’t even begin to imagine!

I get up to pee at least two times a night, but some nights it’s three or four. (Last night I only made a bathroom run at 1:30, but that was because I was dehydrated and had taken a tylenol pm that knocked me out. The night before, I got up three times: 11:30pm, 1:00am, and 4:45am.) 

Is this a perimenopause thing? I wonder. A female-who-gave-birth thing? An age thing? A strictly Jennifer thing? Why is it that some people can go all night and others can’t?

My brother says nighttime bathroom trips are a sign of sleep apnea, but I rarely snore and I’m not sleepy during the day so I don’t think that’s the problem. I simply wake up and then, because it’s hard for me to fall back asleep when I have even the slightest bladder twinge, I always run to the bathroom. If I don’t go pee when I wake up, then I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep only to be awakened shortly with a pressing need to pee, thus interrupting my already too-interrupted sleep. It’s a vicious cycle.

To keep my bathroom runs to a reasonable minimum, I try not to drink much after 8pm, which is hard because I get wicked thirsty around suppertime, mostly because I don’t drink much during the day because I’m not thirsty. Probably, I should set a “drink water” alarm for 4pm and then knock back a quart or two. . . but do I? No.

The other solution? Potato chips. The salt soaks up all the water in my body and then I don’t pee as much. 

Or at least that’s what I tell myself at 9:30 at night when I get a case of the munchies.

This same time, years previous: three days of birthday, the quotidian (9.28.20), evening feeding, the soirée of 2016, getting shod, pointless and chatty, 37, peposo.

Good morning!

This is the time of year when I often find myself asking, What month are we in again? because fall feels like spring, or mid summer maybe. It’s confusing, but in a benign and kinda comforting sorta way. Anyone else have this problem?

But moving on. Right now I am…

Celebrating… the start of sweater weather. I love cold weather, wool socks, toasty fires, and hot chocolate. And speaking of cool weather, I’m gearing up by. . . 

Ordering… these slippers! (Because it takes me forever to make footwear decisions.)

Rewatching… Ted Lasso. It’s funnier the second time around, never mind I’m still missing a good 10% of the dialogue. (I’m looking at you, Jamie Tartt.) 

Waking up… earlier and earlier, which makes no sense since it’s so dark in the morning and I’m still going to bed at the same time.

Drinking… coffee three times a day instead of two. Because: see above. 

Organizing… my life. I just ordered spiral-bound folders for all my random projects and a single notebook in which I intend to keep track of myself, à la a bastardized version of bullet journaling, which a friend recently briefly summarized to me and I realized I could probably benefit from. Any bullet journal fans out there?

Teaching myself… some (very) basic graphic design via Canva, a ton of YouTube tutorials, and loads of messing around. Canva has so many more options than Snappa (which is what I’ve been using for my YouTube thumbnails), plus Canva is much more intuitive and cheaper. I’m actually enjoying myself, which says a lot since I’m not that keen on techy stuff. 

Wondering… how long it will be until my toenail falls off? I don’t remember getting injured so I imagine I was probably cleated in Ultimate a few months ago. The nail is almost entirely a mottled purple, and there’s a new one growing in under it. Mostly, I don’t think much about it (keeping it painted helps me forget about it), but last Sunday when I was playing Ultimate, my toe was too tender for cleats, so partway through the afternoon I had to take them off and play in bare feet, which felt much better but was also terrifying, thanks to the way-too close proximity of everyone else’s cleated feet, eek!

Asking… “How’s Charlotte’s backside look?” a couple times a day whenever anyone comes in from the field because I’m determined not to miss this birth.

Struggling… to get my next batch of clabber going, what the heck? All it involves is setting milk out. How is this not working?!

Eating… not enough vegetables. I’m craving greens and sweet potatoes and big salads. I could solve this problem, I suppose…

Strong-arming… my husband into making me a floating hideaway desk so I can have a two-monitor office in the main part of the house without having a pair of large blank screens staring me down when I’m not working.

Eagerly anticipating… getting the call from our butcher telling us to come pick up our pork. My husband took Fern and Petunia in last week and they will return to us as a variety of ground sausage, bacon (both Canadian and traditional), and a few butt roasts and hams, plus all the lard and bones which I’ll spend hours rendering and processing in the coming weeks. I can’t wait to find out how much each of the pigs weighed.

Waiting… to see how the slow-growing pigs taste in comparison to fast-growing pigs before we decide which kind of pig to get next. Because according to moi, having pigs is mandatory if you have a milk cow.  

Bottling … my sour cherry mead, or at least I will be as soon as I can convince my husband to help me. I am so excited to have it in easy-to-access bottles for sipping and sharing.

Wanting… a good memoir to read. Something thought-provoking and well-written and attention-grabbing. The last good one I read was Take This Bread by Sara Miles which hit three things I care about: Nicaragua, food/cooking, and hard theological questions. Plus, the cover always made me pleasantly hungry. Suggestions?

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (9.26.22), Italian chopped salad, a bakery shift, what we ate, evening feeding, the quotidian (9.26.16), home cut, the run around, a jiggle on the wild side.