There’s an expression in Israel that gave me a chuckle the first time I heard it: “Every child is an angel from 7 to 7″. Well, in my kid’s case that is definitely true. He’s a precocious, sweet-natured troublemaker during the day; at night, fast asleep, he looks like the poster child for childbearing. I was just upstairs checking on him, after which I planned on doing a little straightening up while I had some time to myself. The air blew out of that idea pretty quickly, though, when I remembered that I am eight months pregnant with an energy expenditure of 98% by 9 a.m. I drag through the rest of the day on fumes, trick mirrors and “Elmo’s World”. So, I decided to come downstairs and write to all of you lovely people, seeing as it’s been almost two weeks since my last confession.

We’re finally back at the Cape after our three-week adventure around the Tri-State Area. It’s been mostly uneventful here since we got back (that’s actually a good thing), but I have had a couple of spells of extreme exhaustion as well as a dramatic dip in blood pressure that required my husband to almost carry me up the stairs to bed. Becca, my midwife has upped my sodium and encouraged me to get some more Vitamin D into my system. She also wants me to eat more Vitamin K/Chlorophyll because it helps with blood clots (in hopes of preventing a post-birth hemorrage). I keep forgetting that I’m not the single, unattached 124-pound sprite I was at this time four years ago, when I could leap out of bed at 5 a.m. and charge like a locomotive through my day, which typically ended somewhere between 10 and 11 at night. Aside from work, I could do what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it and not think twice. I think I’m finally starting to get that those days are over, for a while, at least. Nowadays my schedule is dictated my the moods, whims and appetite of a certain little Bug, and the marrow-draining growth of a certain little Bean. But as my friend Devorah, a powerhouse mother of six, says, “Of course, we’re not complaining, are we?”.

The latest question up in the air is where I will be spending Passover: at my in-laws’ in New York or here on the Cape? Between the extreme exhaustion, the five-hour drive, the Braxton-Hicks contractions that have started coming regularly and the fact that I will be almost 37 weeks pregnant (considered full-term) when the holiday rolls around in two weeks, I am inclined to stay put and do the Seders with my family, who will all be coming out for the occasion. The sticky part is, we’ve spent the last three Passovers with my family, the first when we were still engaged, and the following two because my mother was diagnosed with, and later, dying of, Cancer. So this year is really my in-laws’ turn. While I am a big believer in the Oxygen Mask Theory (also known as “Take care of yourself so you can take care of others”), family politics are never an easy ride. In the next couple of days I will have to make a decision. Amazing how a holiday that celebrates our redemption can get me into such a bind.

I’m on the market for a double stroller and need recommendations. I want something lightweight, user-friendly and easy to fold up. I like those cute little side-by-side jogger guys I see being pushed all over Manhattan that look like chic little wheelbarrows and cost more than my car; I’ve been combing through Craigslist ads to see if I can find one second-hand. If people have any ideas (or a stroller to get off their hands!) I am open to all possibilities.

On the kitchen front, I’ve been whipping up some fun soups thanks to my handy-dandy new immersion blender (Thanks, Shuie!). This weekend I made what I call the “Broc-Cauli Adventure” and today’s delight was Carrot and Parsnip with Tarragon (delish…email if you want the recipe). Soups rule because they’re a meal in a bowl and I can sneak all kinds of veggies into my kid without him chucking them at me, along with his new favorite word, “No!”. Plus, you walk away feeling super-full and super-warm without feeling like one of those blimps from the Macy’s Day Parade. I also made sugar-free chocolate muffins that even Yonah passed on, which, despite myself, I took personally. Luckily, my husband will eat anything I put in front of him, so they are slowly disappearing…

Off to spend a little time with Shuie before the fumes sputter out for good. Shout out to Ceasar on this most tragic of days: Brutus done you bad, dude.