I've been enjoying InterLeaves a lot lately. Jennifer's got a great writing style and I love all the details in her entries. Oh, and of course, her son is delicious to look at as an added bonus. Every time I get online and see that she's updated several times since I last checked, I feel disappointed that I can't seem to find the time to write more. Well, here I am. I guess she kicked my butt into gear.

It's beginning to smell a lot like moving around here. The house is strewn with boxes, some neatly packed and labeled, some open and empty, waiting to be filled. David and I have been doing a surprisingly good job and I'm actually very proud of us. I anticipated a lot of last minute panicking, but things are moving along right on schedule. We just finished all of our moving related phone calls: electric company, cable and phone, and David took Jeremy out for a drive and (hopefully) a nap. The few snafus that came up just before we went out of town last week have been resolved, and the closing is scheduled for Friday as planned. It'll be weird to meet all the people we've only dealt with over the phone, like our lawyer and mortgage broker.

Speaking of the mortgage broker, we spoke with him today about locking in the rate. He's a strange one. He has the personality of a used car salesman, which made him amusing to work with on the one hand, but hard to trust completely on the other. From the beginning, he kept pushing this one program on us and while we ended up with a rate of 7.5%, which is pretty good, I kept wondering what the catch was and what was in it for him. It's a thirty year mortgage, but it's adjustable monthly, so it's sort of wacky, but he swears the rate has been at least a point below the average 30 year fixed rate for years. If something drastic happens, we can always refinance so we don't really have anything to lose, but I still think I'm missing something. The way he describes it, it's too good to be true: no payment the first month, 6% the next three months and around 7.5% thereafter. Maybe I should just be thankful that I have good credit, be happy we got a good deal and stop worrying about it.

Our little getaway to Pennsylvania was fun. All the places we ate in had real highchairs, as opposed to the wooden ones we usually turn upside down and put the car seat into, and Jeremy really enjoyed being at the table with us in an upright position. He started officially babbling while we were away and suddenly, again, he's a whole different person. When he babbles, he turns his mouth down in this old man frown and says "Ba ba ba ba ba," or "Waa waa waa waa waa." He smiles at me when I say "Ma ma" encouragingly, but so far, no luck.

I'm not sure when or exactly how it happened, but he started staying up later too. What used to be bedtime turned into an evening nap and he'd get up around 7:00 or so for another hour or hour and a half. He's creeping back to his old, early ways though. He was in bed for the night at 6:30 last night and woke up at 6:00 this morning. Yawn.

Four months has been so much fun. I've probably enjoyed it even more because David's been here to experience it with me. He really is different every day and he's just a happy, fun guy in general.

I can hardly believe it, but I've started feeling, not just thinking, that I'd like to have another. We're planning to have two, but I couldn't imagine actually having another one until now. I saw a commercial last night with a newborn in it and I got this pang. Then, this morning while I was throwing away some old teeny tiny diapers, I got all wistful and nostalgic for the early days.

I'm collecting ideas for the room in the new house that will be mine all mine. So far, I want the multy sofa bed from Ligne Roset and this chaise from restoration hardware. I want the room to be plush and comfortable, spare and light and beautiful. My little sanctuary where I can escape from the world to read and write and daydream. I won't actually have time for any of that, but I'll be able to at least enjoy looking at the room, and imagining doing all those things.