38 Weeks: Commencements

2 09 2011

Ah… 38 weeks.  Full term.  Two weeks until the totally meaningless due date (there’s a 5% chance this baby will be born on that day).

A little over a week ago, I started gearing up for the final stages of impending-baby preparations.  You know, washing all the diapers and a selection of clothing, stocking up on tasty beverages for labor (the non-alcoholic kind – if only because alcohol can impair labor), packing a bag for delivery, and setting up baby’s things around the house.

Typical.

Since when do Jason and I do “typical”?

Right.  So, Jason worked some financial magic, and last week we committed to residing the house, reroofing the house, and having new windows installed.  Okay, we really need this stuff done: we had snowing blowing in through the windows last winter, and we listened to our 30-year-old wooden shingles being blown off during storms.  These aren’t frivolous repairs.

But it’s going to take, oh, eight weeks, give or take a few days.

And we’ll have a baby in, say, a week or two or four.

Did I mention that some reframing of walls is included in this project?  And that there is already a freeze warning in effect for our area (um, goodbye summer, it was nice knowing you…).

Now the old roof is off, and left behind a thick layer of dust on, well, everything, including the baby’s changing table and freshly washed diapers.

And then I started working.

Because, when you are 0 – 37 weeks preggo, you think, oh, hey, working for the couple of weeks before my due date will distract me and give me something to do so I’m not bored.  Then the 38th week arrives, the alarm goes off at 5:30am, and you realize I was in no danger of boredom.  And then the cat gets an eye infection and has to be kept in the house all night, and he protests by punching you in the face every 30 minutes or so, claws extended, and it dawns on you that you are going to be exhausted with a messy house and no clean diapers unless this kid delays her entrance by about eight weeks.

So, despite my long summer vacation leading up to my due date, and all my good intentions for a well-organized home for my newborn, it turns out that I am going to start life with a new baby just like most other moms.  And just like most other moms?  I can’t wait.





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.





The Architect Gets His Hands Dirty

14 05 2010

Chris, who kindly has not objected to my posting of his image on the internet.  In all honesty, he hasn’t seen the pictures, nor does he know they’re posted.  But more importantly, he hasn’t objected.





What We Were Doing

14 05 2010

While I was doing these:

Jason and his brother were doing this:

And Charlie was doing this:

Some kind of weird, 1950s-era domestic bliss.





Morning in a House Undone

9 05 2010






The “Why” Chromosome

9 05 2010

On Tuesday night, I was awoken from a dead sleep in the middle of the night (10:15ish) by a text: Jason had sent me a dark and blurry photo titled “Head Butt.”  The photo seemed to show what used to be a wall in the living room of the new house.  Now it was perforated – and with head-sized holes, no less.  The text was followed by a phone call to make sure I had seen the text.

That is how proud Jason was of head-butting holes into our living room walls.

Granted, he wasn’t the only one there who was participating, and it might not have been his idea.  Still, this remodel is going to take a long time if everyone on the crew has to be treated intermittently for self-induced blunt-force head trauma.

Evidence That Boys Are, In Fact, Stupid





Chaos Captured

8 05 2010

Waiting...

Like Pullin' Teeth

The Artist At Work








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