They Say the Darndest Things…

13 03 2011

For a long time, the funniest comment Jason had made regarding parenthood was during a conversation in which he was trying to convince me that he could work from home and care for an infant.

Me: What happens when you’re on a conference call and the baby is screaming?

Jason: I’ll just wheel it into the other room.

Me: They don’t come with wheels.

 

Equally amusing was his suggestion that I shouldn’t pump at work: “It’s a 45 minute drive each way,” he explained.  “Just pump while you drive.”

 

Last night, Jason asked what I was doing.  I told him I was researching baby carriers, and he wanted to know what a baby carrier was.

“You know,” I told him.  “Like a backpack but for carrying a baby.”

“We have plenty of backpacks,” he said.  “We really don’t need another one.”

“Well, baby carriers are meant for carrying an infant.”

“Oh, it’s silly to buy one when we have so many packs,” he insisted.  “We can just put it in one of those with some blankets around it to keep it from falling out.”

 

Today, I had been practicing with the wrap my sister-in-law sent me (along with the recommendation that I practice with the cat – clearly not understanding the half-feral nature of my resident feline).

Jason saw the yards of material and asked what it was.

So I demonstrated.

Wolverine seemed confused as I attempted to get him into the baby wrap...

...but there was no confusion when I tried to make adjustments - he was out for blood.

Okay, so here’s the deal: I totally make fun of my husband for the seemingly crazy and un-parent-like comments he makes regarding the care of our future offspring.

But the thing is?  I’m the one putting a cat into a baby carrier.

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Remainders

8 10 2010

So I am conclusively done with my first pregnancy.

But it’s not done with me.  My body is still processing the news.  That part takes time, and there will be more medical appointments in the coming days, and then, rudely, medical bills (anyone who has dealt with loss knows the shock of receiving those envelopes from the hospital and doctor’s office).  Tomorrow I will get my weekly email, and it will describe the twelfth week of pregnancy and what the baby would look like at this stage.

I have a small collection of baby items: a onsie, a romper, newborn pjs, a handful of books.  To my surprise, those tiny articles are not so much a reminder of what we are losing, but are simply waiting for a new little one to use.

The only gift that saddens me now is this:

This was Jason’s heartbeat present.  Long before we were married – when we had only been dating a few months, but when I knew that my future was with him – I chose this as his first baby gift.  This was picked out years ago, and purchased just a week ago, from the same store where I first spotted it.  It’s a symbol of the father I know he will be, one who will not only love his child but will take that baby on many unusual adventures, and a father who will share all he cares about with the next generation.

I was going to give this to him on Monday, the day I just knew we would finally hear the beat of the tiny heart in my womb.  An early birthday present for Jason, and a really early birthday present for our little creature.

I have the receipt, and I suppose I could return it and wait for a better time.

But I won’t.

I still remember walking into the local kayak store several years ago, when Jason and I were still new to each other.  I asked about their smallest PFD, and the guy showed me this life jacket, size 0 to 30 pounds.

I turned to my mom with relief, and said, “Well, now we can get married!”  I didn’t know if Jason wanted children, but I knew I did, and figured Jason wouldn’t object as long as he could take a baby fishing and rafting.

“Are you engaged?” asked the salesman, quite innocently.

My mom and I laughed hysterically.  “She just met him!” hooted my mom.

He thought we were crazy, I’m sure, so I got a lot of satisfaction walking back in last week to finally buy this gift for my husband and for our baby (yes, it was the same guy who rang me up).

There’s some sadness when I see it (most recently hidden beneath the bed, as hidden as it needed to be for just a few days).  But there is also hope.

It was crazy to imagine a future family with some guy I met on the internet, yes.  Maybe it’s crazy to hold on to a gift for a baby un-conceived at a time when conception isn’t even a possibility.

But I’ve always been crazy.  So I suppose this is just right.





The Bachelorette Party: Didi Returns

25 07 2010

Phil was coming to help me weed my three acres, and I was excited.

If you feel anything like I do about weeding, you might wonder why I was excited.  But as I mentioned in a previous post, Phil has a certain kind of Easter-Bunny-for-Grown-Ups kind of magic.  Something interesting was bound to happen.

We started off early Sunday morning.  Granted, we began our weeding extravaganza with a trip to the gas station for supplies and some strong mimosas, but it progressed well.

Here we are with good intentions:

And good intentions we did have.

But by 10am, we were doing this:

And at noon, after a good two hours of dancing, we needed more supplies.  For “weeding the yard.”  So off we went…

This fine employee was hesitant to participate in our shopping trip photo op, but agreed on the basis that it was a "bachelorette party."

Didi has a way of turning up in the strangest places.

Watch out, kiddies, you might get more than a ball to play with!

Or do we want a beer with a little less head?

This lady said, "Oh, I used to do that!" Walk around with a spare head? Really? This was someone we wanted to know!

Beer, wine coolers, and Didi

Beer, $7.99; Wine Coolers, $3.89; Didi, PRICELESS

So, already our day was turning out to be pretty awesome.

But it got better.

Phil made some calls.

By 3:30, we were doing this:

Me and my proud future aunt-in-law

By about 5:00, we were here:

And went on to do this:

I have to admit, it’s not at all what I expected when Phil came to help me weed my yard, but then, I never do know what to expect when Phil comes to town.

I just know it’s gonna be good.








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