That La Kid

wishin' an' hopin'!

cloudy: another rant

I read somewhere that artists are prone to being over-sensitive and depressed.  ::shrug::  I don’t know… I guess it’s just one of those days.  I’m apprehensive about everything that motherhood entails.  I’m making mountains out of molehills.  Tom asked me today, “what’s wrong?”  And I said something about a college fund.

I just can’t seem to get my head on straight.

I feel bad for letting people down, for not being giddy all the time.  I was already a worrier, already anxious.  Now there’s all this extra hormonal stuff going on… I feel out of it.  I feel like a disappointment.  I feel like everyone’s stoked about the fact that there’s going to be a baby in the family, but they’re also kind of bummed because it’s mine.  (Someone very hateful actually told me once, years ago, that she feels sorry for my future off-spring because they’ll have me for a mom… I try not to think about it, and to consider the source, but it’s still pretty painful all these years later.)

So, then… do I say something?  Do I talk about my feelings?  Because my feelings are wrong.  Most people, I don’t know, they just don’t understand what I could possibly be complaining about.  How can I possibly be sad now?!

I don’t know.  I just am.  I don’t even feel completely comfortable writing this because I’m afraid of the fallout.  I should just write about my awesome visit with Dr. Wolanski on Friday and happy things that people actually want to read about.  Sunshine.  Lollipops.  Glitter.  Rainbows.  Why am I so weird?  Why is all the happiness tempered with this overwhelming anxiety?  I don’t know what I want.  I just want to be honest and say I don’t feel good.  This is my blog, dammit, and I’m going to tell you the truth about my feelings.

I want to be like Lindsay and Trudy.  Outgoing, life of the party, happy, hilarious… FUN TO BE AROUND.  Why am I stuck being me?!  It suuuuucks.  Cynical.  Sarcastic.  Downright mean sometimes.  I think I’m being funny and people are like, “what the h*ll is the matter with you?”  I’m not trying to be mean!  I was telling Dad and Haley at dinner at Outback the other night that I wanted a birthday re-do and was going to tell the waitress that my birthday was a bad night and they were like, “you don’t have to be a jerk about it.”  And I said, “I’m not!”  But they were both like, “actually… you are.”

I’m not calling you out, Haley (or Dad, although he has probably never read any of these entries).  It was unanimous around the table that I was harsh.  I had no idea.

I mean, I’m starting to think that I have no redeeming qualities except a functioning reproductive system.  But I can’t make people like me.

I’m not outgoing and fun to be around, I guess… I’m just not, but I’ve got other stuff going for me.  I’m smart.  Ask me anything about Disney – I can tell you anything you want to know.  I can paint.  I am crafty.  I can organize the sh*t out of an art closet.  I don’t do much of anything unless my whole heart is in it.  I’m thoughtful and compassionate… and despite how Dad, Haley and Tom felt about my little monologue at Outback, I’m very sweet.  I was nice to the waitress, and for me there was no discernible difference between the way I said it to them and the way I said it to her.

While we’re on the subject of who I am and what I stand for, I’m sincere… not judgmental.  I’d like to think if I’m telling you something, something important, if I’m going out on that limb coming into your life trying to rebuke and admonish or even just connect, that you’d understand how much I care about you and that I thought we had that kind of deep relationship.  I thought I could come to you with anything and everything.  You think it’s easy to waltz right up to someone and say, “you’re doing it wrong?”  No way man… that takes a lot of freakin’ guts!  God’s put some stuff on my heart, things that cause me worry and anxiety, things that I want to share with you and you think I’m just being critical – just looking down my nose and judging you.

Nothing happened!  I mean… I’m not talking about a recent event – so cool your jets – I’m just saying people look at me and think I’m judging them.  I get that a lot.  I’m not over here in silence staring you up and down criticizing your life choices.  I don’t talk because I’m shy.  Bottom line.  I’m wishing I could be more like you, over there having fun and doing your thing.  I’m shy and I hate it.

If it’s important, like Richard Sherman is just standing by himself on the deck of the Disney Wonder, or Jim Korkis (great guy!) is sitting alone right in front of me in the Walt Disney Theater, or I run into Virginia Davis in a hallway, then I am going to make a move.  If it’s important, like I’m worried about you, or I feel like we are growing apart, then that’s a move I have to make as well.  Not easy.

I woke up early today and didn’t have breakfast even though I know I need to check my blood sugar.  Sometimes I sleep in and miss breakfast… but today I was up early and everything and STILL skipped it.

It still hasn’t set in that there is a person inside me.  I know he’s there, he’s moving.  If he’s born today, he’ll be full-term and he will live.  It’s important for me to say that to myself.  He is alive.  He will live.  Even now, I find myself saying to myself, “well, barring any unforeseen circumstance,” but, I mean, I’ve got to stop that.  It’s a habit that I got into as we dealt with infertility.  Cautious optimism.  I want to be happy, but I can’t get too happy, because there’s always the chance I will find myself on the floor in the fetal position begging God for answers.  Again.

I guess if you care about me and are reading this, it’s important that you see that.  You know?  The weak moment.  Maybe it’ll help you understand the weirdness, and why I am not just straight-up happy.  He kicks me all day, but you’re much more likely to believe he’s really there than I am.  Part of me can’t understand that we made a baby and won’t trust it until the thing is in my arms.

In my arms.

Really… he will live.  He’ll eat.  He’ll sleep.  He’ll poop.  He’ll cry.  And he’ll start kindergarten, and he’ll do wushu with his dad, and we’ll ride Winnie the Pooh and Dumbo at Disney World, and he’ll wear hats and sunglasses, and he’ll throw a baseball through a window then lie about it, and he’ll place in the science fair, and he’ll spend summers working in the restaurant and learning Chinese, and his grandparents will take him to visit distant cousins, and his grandparents will take him on Disney Cruises, and we’ll give him charging privileges on his Key to the World card and he’ll buy way too much, and he’ll keep an eye on his little sister and fight with her and say, “that’s not fair,” and he’ll go to band camp, and he’ll graduate high school, and he’ll go to college, and he’ll meet a girl, and I’ll wonder who the h*ll she thinks she is…

But he will live.  He will.

From way back: “Impression: Single living intrauterine pregnancy.  No complications noted.”

You know what really makes me mad… I can’t find my ankle bones.  My feet are that swollen.

I wish I had a picture with Jim Korkis.  I have pictures OF him.  We met at the Disney Institute when I was 15, then became Pen Pals after I saw him on the Disney Cruise in 2003.  He even took Courtney and I around Epcot one day.  Really awesome, awesome guy.

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two things

First of all, relative to what I was saying yesterday, *HEADDESK!*

I feel like they must be trolling, and making that up.

AND WHOA!  145 PEOPLE LIKE IT?!

“Spelt.”  It seems in this person’s world, everything is “spelt” uniquely.  Nikki Davidson and I came up with a term for people like this, “Certified Moron.”

And second, a love story:

Baby Daddy promised me the best chair on God’s green Earth.  That was his contribution to this whole baby thing (well, that and half the genes).  We got a cheap crib, cheap furniture – but I wanted a really great chair for rocking our little fella.  Those wooden gliders with padding don’t do it for me either.  I wanted a real rocking chair.

Tom and I went to Buy Buy Baby and found a cute navy chair for about $600.  The cushion on the back was high.  It felt soft.  I sank into it.  Here’s the chair in some kid named Caden’s room.

It takes 8-16 weeks for delivery.  Wow.  Little Happy could be pretty old by the time that thing finds its way into his room sometime between November 8 and January 3.  So, I went home and began frantically searching for the Little Castle Treasure from an online retailer.  I found some things that were close.  If we’re just getting a navy chair, maybe i can find something I like at a furniture store, a store without the word “baby” in the name.  Fortunately for us, Charlotte is some kind of furniture epicenter.

We started at Good’s.  I discovered that we aren’t shopping for a rocking chair.  We are actually shopping for a rocker recliner or swivel rocker or swivel glider.  Good’s had some good stuff, but good God!  The chairs I liked were upwards of $800 – and same deal with delivery, about 8 weeks – and I’ll bet delivery’s not free.  We weren’t hounded by employees, but someone did approach us after a while.  Tom might have gone to get the guy.  I forget.

  

After Good’s, we went to Thomasville.  We did a lap around the store.  Didn’t see anything that swiveled or glided or rocked AND we didn’t see a single employee.  It was just us, so we were in and out in about 3 minutes.  Moving on!

The next stop on the road of furniture stores was La-Z-Boy.  I don’t really want a La-Z-Boy.  They are generally unattractive, but isn’t what’s her name… ugh… dated Michael jackson way back… shoot… BROOKE SHIELDS!  Isn’t Brooke Shields on their commercials talking about how stylish they are?  Okay.  We can take a look.  We were approached right away – no me gusta.  I like to just have the freedom to look around.

“Can I help you find anything?”

“Gliders, or rockers?”   The lady looked right at my stomach, “Oh, OHHH!  Yes!  Let me show you what we have!”

The sales pitch actually wasn’t bad at all.  It was nice to have a tour guide because each rocker/glider/swiveler is in a different model living room in the store.  We learned the difference between glide and rock – and learned that I’m a rocker girl, myself.  We learned any glider or rocker can be made into a swiveler, and because it’s La-Z-Boy, they ALL recline.  We looked at some very pretty designy chairs, but as it turned out the softest and most comfy was another plain navy blue chair like the Buy Buy Baby chair.  It was $649.98 (the tag said, “was $850” but you and I both know no one has ever paid that), and it was huge – significantly bigger than the BBB chair.  We told her we needed to sleep on it before we made a decision and we also needed to measure.  She mentioned “the chair sale” started tomorrow (which is now today) but couldn’t elaborate.  It’s two great chairs for one great price – but no idea what the price would be.  She also dropped a hint about a “private sale” in passing.  Later in the conversation, Tom asked about that and she said she was allowed to give out 3 passes to her personal customers, but she had someone drop out.  You either get 10%, 15% or 20% off based on how much you spend, and while she has existing customers that she could invite, we have a whooooole house to furnish, so she was thinking that’d be a solid investment on her part.

The sales lady challenged us to compare La-Z-Boy’s stand-by-their-product ethic to other stores.  I told her we were pretty much done shopping, that I loved the chair.  But then when we left, we saw that Rooms To Go was right next door.  My parents bought at Rooms To Go when we lived in Florida.  (Actually, saw Mom’s current couch and super stylish giant round chair thing when we walked in.)  The rooms at Rooms To Go are awfully pretty.

An employee approached us right away.  “Can I help you find anything?”

I expected her to have the same insight as the La-Z-Boy lady.  “Rockers?”  Cue hand on my giant stomach.

“Oh,” she said, “Like for a baby’s room?  We don’t have those we only have the rocker-recliners like in a living room set.  Maybe try Target or Babies ‘R’ Us down the street.”  I was so irritated at being dismissed that I didn’t press the issue.  If I had tried, it would have been too late.  She was walking away, back to the cluster of employees just chillin’ in some model living room, but Tom and I had an awkward look around anyway.  Didn’t see much that we liked as far as rockers, actually we didn’t see anything.  Geez, if only an employee had been on hand to show us the rocker-recliners…  Their loss.  As we did our lap I said, “Wow. She basically just sold the La-Z-Boy chair.”  Look, maybe that wooden job with the pad is okay for YOU and your baby, or maybe that’s the only thing that will fit in YOUR nursery, but I’m in the market for serious comfort.

We have a rule in our little family, if it’s over $100, we have to sleep on the decision.  (Thank you, Pastor Lon Solomon.)  Take yourself out of the showroom.  Get away from the salesman.  Relax.  Take a step back and try to avoid Toad’s Motorcar Fever.

This is me in the store sitting in my Recliner-Swivel-Rocker.

Well, as far as sleeping on it, it is the most comfortable.  I mean, not that we slept on it… although we could.  But as far as making a list of pros and cons:

  • It’s more expensive.
  • It’s bigger.  (For better or worse.)
  • It not only rocks and swivels, but also reclines.  I keep forgetting that part.
  • La-Z-Boy is THE relaxing chair.  They are basically the gold standard of recliners, and I think we can trust the integrity of a rocker from La-Z-Boy more than some baby furniture company.
  • It was supremely comfortable.  I said I wanted THE BEST chair and this is THE BEST.  My favorite, if that counts for anything, and the one I found most comfortable – which was what Tom said he was going to buy in the first place.
  • Lots of warranties, although IMHO warranties are complete bullsh*t.

Tom came home for lunch today and we went back to the La-Z-Boy store.  The chair sale actually brought the price down to $629.98.  The private sale took off another 10%.  Adding a swivel costs $150, and there is delivery and fabric protection… the only thing I think we really could have gone without is the fabric protection, but whatever… baby’s going to throw up who knows what on the chair, so we might as well go for it.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet my new La-Z-Boy.

It’s actually darker blue in person.  More navy blue… but anyway.  We are the proud owners of a La-Z-Boy to be delivered on SEPTEMBER 20.  It’s nice the chair will be delivered before baby boy.

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i’ll take your 2 cents now.

Alright… my washing machine just will not stop irritating me. I washed some baby clothes in the Ainsworth St. house (Gramma’s machine), and when I was folding them I was like, “dang – they smell so good.”  Washed new baby clothes today in the machine that came with Balenie Trace house and they either smell like nothing or they still smell new, like the store – you know… like they weren’t washed at all.  I just did the side by side comparison.  The older stuff still smells amazing.  Same fragrance/dye-free gentle detergent…  Who buys a KitchenAid washing machine…  Honestly…

How can I be sure that they’re getting cleaned at all?  Should I throw in more detergent?  Gramma’s machine used more detergent, but the KitchenAid Katastrophe is supposed to be more efficient, and it was a small load so I didn’t think I needed much detergent.  I filled the cap up to the line it told me to.  Should I put in a little of the regular detergent to make it smell nice?  Won’t that defeat the purpose of buying this Gentle/Free crap for baby’s sensitive skin?

We put the washer on the home warranty.  Should I get someone to come look at it?  Every other wash cycle it gives us some kooky error code.  But then runs fine, so I’m sure if someone comes out to look at it, we’ll give them $100 to tell us that it runs fine.  Should I just get rid of it and get a new-to-me one off of craigslist?  (Couldn’t be any worse than this one, right?)  Should I just make my Dad bring Gramma’s machine up to the laundry room?  I freakin’ love that thing.  They sure don’t make ’em like they used to.  I liked the idea of this bigger, front load guy so I can wash cloth diapers guilt-free.  I’m scared I’ll mess up Gramma’s machine with a load of thick, heavy, germy diapers every day.

Then again, it’s not doing anyone any good out in the garage.

What are your thoughts?

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exactly what i’ve said all along!

I just read this hilarious article…  Oh my gosh, who was I talking about this with?  Haley?  Tom? It reminds me of the names on “Toddlers & Tiaras”: Teeghan, Zander, Aishlynn, Brittannie…  I find them completely insufferable.

This is what I have been saying for 9 months!

“Every parent now wants every child to be unique and special from the moment the doctor wipes all the amniotic fluid off of it…  There’s a bizarre assumption that if you can make your child’s name unique, the child will be unique.  And that’s NEVER the case.”

Read the article, it’s dead-on: Baby Names Getting Even Worse.

Guess what?  Your kid can be special with a plain old generic name. In fact, the most awesome person I know – probably my very favorite person – has a plain old generic name: Thomas.

IT DON’T GET MORE AWESOME THAN THAT, FOLKS!

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overwhelmed

There are so many one-liners that I keep thinking up as facebook statuses, but then I’m like, “No, I really need to just write a blog post.”  At the same time, I am totally speechless.  They don’t make big enough words to describe how special I feel.  It’s amazing that so many people can love someone so much when they haven’t met him yet.  He is one fantastically lucky little boy to be entering a family that’s this incredible.

My baby shower was the shower that I have fantasized about since Tom and I started thinking about making babies.

It started on Saturday morning.  Tom and I were up at 6:30 to continue cleaning after having been up until 2 (me) and 3 (Tom) the night before.  At about 10:30, the doorbell rang and we were pretty far from being ready for company.  Tom answered it, I freaked out about still being in my pajamas.  I crossed my fingers and hoped it was a neighbor.  I said, “Is it people?”  Tom looked out the window by the door and said something to the effect of, “Oh, it’s people alright!”  He opened the door and it was Lindsay Kaye and Sarah.  All the way from Florida, a whole day early!  They were hungry, so the first thing that they did after hugging and hugging and hugging and touring the house was run out and try to find something to eat.  They found Five Guys and brought back lunch for everybody.

Since they picked Five Guys, we had to show them this:

After we ate, they helped us clean up and put a whooooole bunch of boxes in the attic.  Since I want to live here forever and never move again, there’s nothing in the attic that we have to ever get to unless we are moving out.  I have a crapload of Disney collectibles that each came in a box with styrofoam and whatnot, so we put all of those in the attic and that’s it.  Tom doesn’t like going up there, so he’s putting all the holiday decorations in the garage.  Anyway – in 3 minutes, Lindsay, Sarah and Tom took care of a job that Tom and I have put off for 3 weeks.

Kayce showed up sometime in the early afternoon.  Kayce – drove all the way from Northern VA, stopping in Cville, just to go shopping at Ikea with me and watch me open a bunch of presents.  I mean, basically that’s the only reason everyone was there.  Amazing.  AMAZING.  Amazing that all these people would come all this way for that.

Later in the afternoon, Trudy, Sunny and Haley showed up WITH MOM!  Mom!  …or, well, Grandma – I guess… who tried to tell me all week that she was going to the UVA game and coming after that surprised me and showed up with the Herolds + Hay Nick.  First Lindsay and Sarah, then Mom.. that’s TWO awesome surprises.

We went to Ikea.  Tom was versus me.  He’s always versus me.  I sat a bunch of stuff by the door to go to Goodwill on Friday night and asked him to load it up and take it.  Wouldn’t you know it, not only was the truck (that we needed to fill with baby furniture) full of stuff, but it was also out of gas – which we had ALSO talked about waaaay before everyone was walking out the door to go to Ikea.  Try Thursday night.  Between Thursday night and Saturday evening he didn’t have a second to put gas in the truck – get outta here.

I didn’t want to be held up any more from getting the gang to the meatballs.  I told Tom to drop the stuff off at Goodwill, go to South Carolina to get gas, and then meet us at Ikea… instead of napping, which was our original plan for him.

Trudy drove Grandma, Kayce and me.  Lindsay drove Sarah, Haley and Sunny.  Tom came by himself after doing his chores, ate with us and then napped in the parking lot.  We needed the truck… and on the way home it would only seat two anyway, so we needed to take that many cars.

IKEA was, well… it was IKEA, which is always awesome.  We had dinner, then went shopping.  Oh!  I just remembered one of my would-be facebook statuses.  We had a shopping list that totaled over $800 and through savvy shopping, endless generosity from my Mom and sisters and aunts and cousins, and pure dumb luck – we walked out of there spending $175 out of pocket.  I was flabbergasted.  So flabbergasted in fact that I just used the word “flabbergasted.”

I was adamant about making Tom come in and pay with his debit card so we could get 1%, or what I thought would be $8, in cash back… but after all that we made less than $2.  Ha.  AND there was no coupon on the bottom of the receipt… so who knows if they even do that anymore.

I told Tom on the way home from Ikea that I felt like all the molecules that make me up were buzzing.  I felt electric.  There was so much happiness in me that my cells were unable to contain it all.

When we got home, Aunt Lindsay and Aunt Haley put Little Happy’s crib together.  Tom took Grandma and the Great Aunts to WalMart and Krispy Kreme.

It was a late night.  Everybody was exhausted.  We had a huge slumber party.

It was awesome.  Can you believe all this people went through all this for me?!  Well, for one lucky little boy, anyway.

The next morning was a frenzy of activity.  Dad and Lindsay went to the grocery store.  Then Dad and Debbie went to the grocery store.  Then Dad said he needed some wires to hang up the chandelier and had to go to Lowe’s, and before I knew he was gone, he was back and the chandelier was hung.  Our menu was based on the invitations.  We had Mexican dip, Chinese wontons, Hawaiian pineapple, American (although not Native American) mac n’ cheese, Italian caprese skewers, and ham and cheese croissants from France.  Each dish had a little small world kid on a toothpick stuck in it.  I wish I had taken pictures.  It was so cute.  I found a tube of toy buildings from around the world at Michael’s, so the Pyramids, Leaning Tower of Pisa, Parthenon, Empire State Building, Taj Mahal, and Eiffel Tower were scattered around the food as well.  The cake also matched the invitations PERFECTLY.

I made a pennant banner out of card stock and hung it over the fireplace.  It was a quick and dirty project, but in hindsight I like it so much that I think I’m going to hang it in the baby’s room.  I wrote “baby” in a different language on each flag.  It looked so good.

We played a lot of fun games that I’ve never played at a shower before.  Haley and I had each bought a bunch of prizes.  It’s funny, because I picked some of my favorite things, fancy soaps, and Haley picked her favorite things, wild animals on stickers, magnets and notepads. There was a worksheet with a list of features (eyes, hair, smile, toes, etc.) and you had to check off whether you thought that I wanted the baby to get each feature from Tom or from me.  We put paper plate on top of our heads and had to draw a baby without looking.  Everyone tried to guess how big around I was and cut a piece of yarn that length.  My cousin Erika came within about ONE INCH!

Speaking of Erika!  She and my Great Aunt Jean left Rockville, MD at 5:30 AM to surprise me at the shower.  I was totally blown away!  Flabbergasted again!  I still can’t believe Erika was there.  Amazing.  Surprise number 3!  And Jean!  Surprise number 4!

I really want to go into detail about all the incredible stuff that I got, but don’t want to bore you.  It was really just… I don’t know.  I already used “amazing” and “incredible.”  Did I use “awesome?”  It was awesome.  It was epic.  I cannot understand how people love me so much, I just don’t have the brain power to comprehend it.  I’ve been unpacking Lil’ Happy’s gifts this morning and it just moves me to tears.  I don’t think it’s pregnancy hormones, I think it’s just being so full of joy that it leaks out of my face.

The things that stand out most in my mind are the handmade things.  I wanted to buy a stool at Ikea for his room.  Ikea was out of the yellow ones.  But that’s okay, because Great Aunt Trudy MADE him a stool with Mickey and the gang on it.  Anyone can wrap up some onesies and socks and blankets and things, but his Great Aunt Debbie made a platter of onesie cupcakes.  It was so adorable that I didn’t want to take it apart.  I still don’t.  Great Great Aunt Sara Beth made him a blankey and a hat.  I am so excited about those that they’re going to the hospital with us.  They smell like her house.  Love, love, love it.  Kayce and Erika are BOTH in the process of stitching something up.  Kayce’s sneaky.  She surprised me.  I didn’t know she did all that.  Erika said, “Yeah, she does… and she knits all the time.  She’s very crafty.”

OMG, I still can’t believe Erika and Kayce were here for the shower.  Totally awesome.

Grandma, Grandpa and Lil’ Happy’s Aunts kept giving us presents filled with more presents.  You know?  Not just a bathtub, but a bathtub stuffed with shampoo, towels, lotion, etc.  We didn’t just get a diaper bag with a giraffe on it, it was stuffed with diapers, bottles, bibs, diaper cream, etc.  I LOOOOVE those types of presents.

I really wanted to decorate onesies at the party, but we didn’t get around to it.  It worked out alright, though.  Lindsay, Sarah, Tom and I decorated a few after everyone left.  I had such a good time doing that.  It was fun with out intimate little group.  I think the one that Tom made is probably my favorite, but he doesn’t want you to see it until you see it on the baby.  Sarah’s are hysterical.  Lindsay’s are PERFECT for MY kid.  Mine were kind of anti-climactic compared to everyone else’s.

Looks like this post has gotten long enough.  I’m going to go reopen some more presents for a while.

Kirk out.

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room to grow

I don’t usually like to overwhelm you with two posts in one day, and odds are I won’t be able to think of anything to write about tomorrow because I talked your ear (eyes) off today.

I worked on the nursery before we left for Charlottesville on Friday and just can’t wait to show you how it’s going, although a smart Wendy would wait for the big TA-DA in a week or so when it’s done.

It was a big help for me psychologically to get something going.  I feel less depressed.  I’ve been complaining this whole time, “geez, if only I had a dresser!”  But now, I’m all, “Well, there’s nothing wrong with his outfits hanging up in the closet…”  So we have an adorable, practically empty, dresser.

BUT I STILL LIKE HAVING IT!

I can’t wait to pick up the matching one and the toy box.  And the crib.  And, hey, I need to finish sanding and repainting the changing table that we bought waaaay the heck back in February.

But back to my little success story… most people buy a set of stuff that’s beautifully coordinated and create nurseries that look like catalog pages.  (I’m talking about you Kinsey Parham! …not that you’ll read this.)  I’ve always had trouble with this.  Let’s say I pick out that adorable Baby Simba jungle motif that’s out right now.  Well, then where do Mickey and Goofy go?  Most toys are brilliant primary colors, and I want them to look like they have a home in Mr. Happy’s room.  I’ve tried really hard not to be all matchy-matchy, but to keep it coordinated.  Let’s see how things are going…

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“…and ev’ry last inch of me’s covered with HAIR!”

I am giving Gaston a run for his money on levels of testosterone.

(Incidentally, wasn’t the Beast ALSO completely covered with hair?  Just sayin’.)

From Wikipedia:

Waxing is a way of semi-permanent hair removal which removes the hair from the root. New hair will not grow back in the previously waxed area for two to eight weeks, although some people will start to see regrowth in only a week.

Try 3 days.  And in 3 days, I am not seeing a little, “oh, yeah -looky there… some hair is starting to grown back in.”  It’s like that movie “The Santa Clause” when Tim Allen shaves, lets out a sigh of relief, and then his full white beard grows right back.  I am wondering what it would look like if i just let it go.  If I just didn’t touch it, would I turn into Teen Wolf?  Some of the hairs are dark brown, some are red.  I bet I would have a very pretty auburn beard.

I already had PCOS symptoms, which I believe (although I never had the levels checked) includes tons of extra testosterone anyway.

So, I don’t know… I guess I should just wait it out, hideout inside my house while it grows out and then flee to the salon under a bandana on Friday and get it waxed again in time for the shower.  Or should I continue tweezing like a crazy person?  Or should I use the Hair Removal Creme?  Or should I buy a kit and wax at home?  I had used the creme, and (as it turns out) it lasts about as long as the waxing did!  Ha!  The girl at the salon looked at my face and was like, “yeah, shaving is the worst thing you can do…”  Do I look stupid to you?  I absolutely wouldn’t shave it, ever!  “I tried hair removal creme a couple days ago.”  She did not look convinced.

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asian time

Tom has a tendency to run his life on something his best friend Nathan calls “Asian time.”  Basically, it means if he has to be someplace at 7 o’clock, he leaves the house at 7 o’clock.  I’m not sure if this actually has anything to do with being Asian.

I, on the other hand, cannot stand being late.  I think I was traumatized in my youth by choruses of, “well, look who finally decided to grace us with their presence” when we’d have to run from one family’s Christmas to the other.  I don’t know why – but we were always late to everything.  Fifteen minutes late to church, like clockwork – every week.  You’d think that we would have just started waking up 15 minutes earlier.  Nope.

I don’t like close calls!

I’m nervous the shower will fall into Asian time.  (Sounds so racist, we really should come up with another name for it.)

We have 2 weeks until the baby shower.  There is one weekend in between.  In those two weeks:

  • We need to buy bedroom furniture for the grandparents’ bedroom downstairs.
  • We need to have that room painted or paint it ourselves.
  • We need to unpack.
  • The Target registry is almost entirely online-only items.  So, do I wait until the shower to see what we get?  Shipping takes a while, so we’ll have to order what we don’t get and pray it gets delivered before our boy does.
  • I’ve got to buy some newborn size diapers.  (Cloth or otherwise.)
  • If I get newborn cloth diapers, I have to wash and dry them about 10 times BEFORE we put them on Jr.’s butt to increase the absorbency to full capacity.
  • My dad needs to hang my Mickey Mouse chandelier and move the light switch in the Bonus Room.  And we need to patch and paint the spot where the switch is now.
  • Tom’s Uncle Larry is coming to stay with us during the Democratic National Convention, the week leading up to the shower.
  • Pick out, figure out how to pay for, and purchase the most awesome rocking chair I can find.  (Special gift from my Baby-Daddy.)
  • Pack for a month in Charlottesville.

So, I.  AM.  PANICKED.

…to say the least.  I reckon I should go unpack instead of writing a whiny blog.

The planner in me is like, you can’t just do this on Asian time.  But… there is a little half-Asian boy inside me that is doing EVERYTHING on at least half-Asian time.

We are really doing this.  In about a month, I WILL HAVE A FREAKING BABY.

Hooooooooly cow.

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baby shower invitations

Lindsay and I, well, mostly Lindsay finished the baby shower invitations over the weekend.  They look outstanding.

Neat, huh?  My only regret is that it doesn’t say, “it’s a small world” on the invitation anywhere.  I think people get it, though.

The basis for this idea is this invitation that I designed for my cousin’s wedding.  But how much better is this – using the double doors AS DOORS and opening the exterior of the it’s a small world attraction to the symbolic inside of the ride.  It’s like being there… in invitation form.  I wish I could make it play the song.

So… here’s the play by play.  I drew all the little kids, drew the exterior of the attraction, and drew the clock face.  Tom scanned all of my pencil drawings and since my computer DIED on my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day… I told Lindsay all of my ideas and she colored everything in.


I sketched them, Tom scanned them, and Lindsay colored them in.

Original Sketch – This is my original drawing of the ride exterior.

Lindsay emailed me printable .pdf files that I could print from my lesser laptop.  I bought photo paper and printed the invite interior.  On a second sheet, I printed 2 sets of doors.  The dimensions of the door invitations are the same as an 8.5″ x 11″ sheet folded in half, so the inside is borderless… the one thing I don’t hate about my evil printer is that it does print borderless when you can get it to print.  Instead of folding it in half, you fold the left and right quarters in.  Anyway, it makes measuring and designing pretty easy.

Here are the door pieces that I printed, cut, and glued to the outside of the invitation doors.

Putting it all together.

Shutting the doors.

AND VOILA!

Piles of finished product.

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wahoowah

I’m not a huge fan of Lord Hardwicke’s.  It’s not my favorite place.  The burgers are like charcoal bricks.  You have to pay extra for fries, they give you chips.  I forget why, but I told Tom to remind me never to get the Club again.  I was very offended once when we walked in 15 minutes before they closed and they wouldn’t serve us.  That just grinds my gears, ask my dad about the fried chicken people on Friday nights when he was trying to pick my mom up after work for dates in high school.  You just don’t do that.  You’re not closed.  I never wanted to go back after that.  You don’t want my money tonight?  Fine.  I won’t give it to you ever again.

My family loves it.  So, we keep going back.  Their pizza is pretty good.  I have to be careful with this gestational diabetes thing.  I ordered a taco salad.  No jalapenos, but since the menu said “ask your server for sour cream or salsa,” I did ask for sour cream.  “What kind of dressing?”  Dressing?  Really?  It’s a taco salad.  “Um, yes, I’d like a drizzle of balsamic vinaigrette…”  What?  I thought sour cream or salsa was the dressing on a taco salad.  I mean, I guess if you’re Lindsay, and eat ranch on anything and everything, well, yeah… I guess you could go with ranch.  I just don’t see ranch and sour cream.  In lieu of ground beef, they put chili on it.  It was different.  Not bad, just different.

I guess I just do not understand the things that they do.

I had a good weekend, though.  We went to Maryland to see Tom’s mom before she leaves for Texas and she went shopping with us at Buy Buy Baby.  I found the small world swaddling blankets that I LOVE live and in person!  I was able to hold them, and eventually buy them – which I thought I’d have to do online.  I am irritated that I didn’t have a 20% off coupon (they’re a branch of Bed, Bath and Beyond) but so, sooo happy to get those things.  Overpriced, but I love them.  We also saw a red dragon humidifier that I LOVE and it IS available at Target ($10 less!), so I put him on the registry.

I need to do serious research on breast pumps and strollers.  I like the pattern on the stroller that we picked, but it’s huge and bulky.  It comes with the infant carrier, you know, a travel system… and I feel like those are mandatory.  I’m open to suggestion on that.  As far as breast pumps, I’d say more than, “open” to advice – I desperately need help.  “…I’m supposed to attach this contraption to those and do what now?!”  I’m not all that into nursing, but I do like saving money.  My plan was to pump and bottle it.  I’m sure for a while there I’ll just be pumping it straight into the kid.  No sense washing bottles or getting out of bed and going down to the kitchen to get a bottle… too much hassle. BUT at some point, I’ll be pumping regularly?  I hope?  They say the handhelds are more for occasional use.  I guess I’ll need to pump at Disney World in December so Lil’ Happy can stay in the hotel with Grandma some times.  Right?  Help.

Lindsay finished helping (i.e. creating in their entirety) with the shower invites.  They look amazing!

Did you know UVA is playing Penn State the day before my shower?  Crap.  Kind of rains on my weekend getaway parade.

I forgot about football.  When we got married, I was diligent about picking a weekend that wasn’t a game weekend.  There was only one such weekend in the fall, and one of my bridesmaids was already scheduled to be a bridesmaid in another wedding the same weekend.  We tied the knot in December after all.

Anyway… if it’s not one thing, it’s another.  There’s no game the weekend of the 15th or 22nd, but Lindsay has something else to do on the 15th.  Haley’s birthday is the 22nd – not to mention I’ll be at 38 weeks, and from what I understand, at that point it could be any minute.  So – the nursery needs to already be ready already.

I worry I waited too long!  Everything I read said guests would be miffed if I had it too early – but now I’m worried it’s not going to come together here at the last minute.  Aiiiiiya!

AND… it doesn’t help that we thought we were pregnant countless times and it turned out to be my imagination AND I look about as big now as I did when I had Mr. Nasty.  Like, I think if you saw me on the street you’d say to yourself, “Hmm… is she pregnant, or fat?”  The size of the Happy bump is comparable to the size of the Nasty lump. In some ways, I’m still not convinced that we actually are pregnant.

Although I never had to pee this much with the cyst.

P.S.  Strawberry shortcake and a handful of VA peanuts for breakfast, and my blood sugar was in good shape.  106 and it needs to be under 120.  Not whole wheat, but it’s nice to know I can eat it and survive.

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