Assembly in 6 easy steps

Were you aware that the holy grail is actually a drawer from a small piece of nursery furniture made in Brazil?

We weren't either until this weekend.

This is the weekend that Mr. and Mrs. W took on the daunting task of preparing furniture and a room for our new addition to the family. Now, we had already partially cleared the room and painted, and had been "gathering" things for awhile, but we really hadn't made much commitment as to where either him or his stuff was going to go in that room. Being as how we are late getting started in the child bearing game, we have many, many friends who have been there and done that and were more than willing to pass on a number of items they are no longer using. It's actually pretty great because even though we are buying a lot of new things, we have "backup" replacements all over the place for when we forget something somewhere, break it, or whatever the case may be. The best part being that we know the parents and kids that used the stuff, so there's no fear of cooties.

So Saturday night, pregnant Mrs. W and Mr. W went off to the neighborhood Baby Depot in search of, at the least, a dresser for our baby. We had a couple of crib "options" from friends and family, but we learned pretty quickly that with a 14-16 week wait on anything ordered and a difficulty level of 10 in actually matching furniture pieces while we were in the store, we were best off just buying our little guy his very own set from whatever we could find that was in stock.

That was challenging enough. We identified 2 matching pieces that were listed as in stock, and went to the front to pay, while Adam, our friendly neighborhood furniture finder went to the back to bring them up. Nearly 10 minutes later he came back to say they couldn't find the dresser, only the crib, and that he could call another store to see if it was in while they continued to look. As Mr. W started to show the same sense of urgency toward this project that Mrs. W had several weeks ago, we agreed to let him call. Meanwhile, there was another couple trying to buy the same dresser and being told the same thing. As events unfolded, we found that there was one left in the back for us, and breathed a sigh of relief. After finally getting home and spending about 2-3 hours on assembly of this coveted item, we discovered in step 13(basically the end) that one of the pieces was broken. Now, this furniture came from Brazil, and while there was a customer service number on the packaging, we already knew that a 14 week turnaround would turn into 24 weeks if we called ourselves. We were pleased enough when we went back the next day and took the one, and I mean one drawer on the floor model that hadn't been broken by shoppers in trade for the broken parts. Just knowing that the 300 screws and parts wouldn't need to be removed and repackaged for a return made us want to cry with joy.

The crib went together with a little less drama, but the directions were a little bit skewed. You see, on the diagram, they had, from what I recall, 7 steps listed. Each step had about, oh, 10 or more additional steps within that step. For example, step one might have been, put the 30 wood pegs into the slots on 14 of the random crib pieces in the box. Step 2 might be, attach piece 1-20 to each other, with 4 "a" screws each, in all four corners. Only it was all on a tiny diagram, not written out, so we just had to hope we picked the right pre-drilled "courtesy hole".

I have attached a photo of what the dresser looked like when we were finished with it at 1am on Saturday.

There's nothing like the feeling of finishing a project like that only to know that despite all of your efforts, the thing just isn't finished.

When we had that final drawer in hand and Mr. W slid it into place on Sunday evening, it was like a thousand tons of weight lifted off our shoulders.

Mr. W says for Tanner's first birthday he is getting a toolbox and putting the rest of his stuff together from then on. I immediately envision my baby riding his first bike down the street as the pedals and wheels fall off.

I will have to remember that and buy him the knee pads and helmet.

Happy Birthday, Mom

So today is my mom's birthday. She isn't here anymore to call or visit, but I still think of her on her birthday, and this year, I have a whole new respect for that woman.

The diapering and feeding and work hasn't even started, but I am still trying to figure out how she actually went through with having four kids. Now, I think maybe it helped a little that she only had 3 pregnancies. She won the twin lotto out of the starting gates with my brothers. She was also young when she started out, so I guess she had more energy. Well, I know she did. At that age, I had a hell of a lot more energy than I do now. That being said, within a year, she had 3 infants to juggle and I have no idea how she did it. Somehow, my brothers and sister grew up fairly normal and without any real sense of being wronged that I am aware of. From what I hear they had a pretty happy early childhood. I think part of that came from having each other for entertainment and also as scapegoats, which I hear stories of pretty frequently.

My sister, being the youngest and of course the only girl at the time, feels like she got blamed for everything. I have to think that part of that also had to do with the manipulating skills of my brothers. I know I can be pretty naive when it comes to random things, and she has that same sense of trust. I can envision it now. One of the boys told her to do XYZ, and little diaper butted baby sister did it.

I have been told that my mother's journey into motherhood was pretty interesting. Some of the most often told stories of those early family years include my brothers disappearing into the fields as tiny kids looking for parachuters(I am guessing these were soldiers, as my dad was in the military at that time and they were on or near the base), my sister drinking gasoline, the neighborhood kids spending a coin collection at the drugstore, and setting a field on fire. The last two tend to be blamed entirely on the most convenient scapegoat, someone else's kid.

By the time I arrived, 15 years or so later, I was little challenge for anyone's wit, just energy. With siblings in their teens, Mom and Dad had mellowed out quite a bit, already had a little "built in" assistance from Tom, Tim and Beth, and were starting to realize that raising a little kid might actually be easier than raising a teenager, in some aspects.

Mom always talked about how pregnancy was fine and having kids was wonderful and how we were all such a blessing to her and a great joy in her life. It was only right before she passed away, when she learned that I was engaged, that some truth started to slip. You see, Mom was really excited for me to have a child, and was looking forward to seeing things come full circle in her family. She had one grandson that was nearly raised, but her baby was potentially going to have a baby soon. One of the last times I was with her on a visit before she died, I remember her letting it slip that childbirth might just be a little bit harder than she had let on all these years.

Now, I don't remember exactly what her words were, but let's just say she eluded that giving birth was not comfortable or painless(as she had let on for 30 years), despite it being rewarding.

We didn't get into that much, since the big news of the visit was that a wedding was being planned. It was the holidays and there were lots of other things to talk about. I wish I would have questioned a little bit more, now. Within a month of that visit, she was gone.

That was over two years ago, and I haven't missed her as badly since we first lost her than I have in these last few months. Being a hormonal wreck and just wanting to hear her say that I can do this and will be a good mother would soothe me in a way I cannot even describe. I would give up anything I have in this world for her to just be there long enough to see and hold my son.

Since I know I can't have that, it makes it easier to know how excited she would be that he is on the way, soon.

I also can't give her a card or a hug, so this is probably the best gift I can offer her this year. I am just thankful that she gave me the understanding of how important a mother and her love is to a child and taught me how to be a good mom, even though I have to try this out on my own, without my "coach" there.

At least as my child grows, I will know to hide my valuables, the gasoline can, any matches, lighter or flammable substance, and to keep an eye out for paratroopers.

Happy Birthday, Mom...6 weeks to go.

I peed

This morning, in a cup...again. I get to visit the doctor again this morning, and as the routine goes, I had to "go" in a cup. I only wish I'd had that cup with me yesterday when I let loose on the car. It wouldn't have mattered, anyway. Suffice to say it wasn't planned. In fact, I didn't even know I had to "go". Mr. W is now threatening to wear a rain slicker to bed. It is a long, drawn out story, but the ultimate punchline results in uncontrollable coughing and a wet spot on the car seat. I am not sure when I was last humbled to this extent. I had an appointment that I needed to get to, and nothing to change into, so let's just say it was a very quick appointment where I may have rushed through a few things to get out the door and back on the road for my hour drive home to change clothes. Thankfully, I had on black capri pants in a ventilated area, so I think I may have avoided any scrutinizing.
It really says something for those countries where having a family is looked at as a necessary part of life, and not a choice of burden, and women take 6 months of maternity leave, starting at an early time in pregnancy. It would be great to not have appointments all over the state right now. I guess I should keep a change of clothes in the car. Of course, this is not a normal occurrence, in fact, it's never happened to me in all my life, so I didn't know to plan for it.

The great benefit to driving out to these outlying areas is the amount of time spent on country roads in the middle of nothing. I had the chance to stop at a tiny little farmer stand the other day and finally got to buy the August tomato that I had been craving since February. Now, it might look as if it is the tomato's fault that it is hacked up, but this is the kind of slicing job you get from a desperate pregnant woman who has been craving a tomato that was just out of reach for 6 or 7 months. It was just as ripe and delicious as it looks, and although my intentions were to buy bacon and have BLTs with these tomatoes, half of them were devoured yesterday on wheat bread with smoked swiss and mayo. I made a couple for Mr. W and he didn't complain. I have a feeling he snuck meat onto them in the kitchen, when I wasn't looking, which is just fine. I didn't want any dead animal tainting my delicious tomato, so I let him know that choice was his. I still have two left and have a feeling that BLTs will be in order tonight. Oh, I forgot to mention that before I made the sandwiches, I ate an entire tomato plain, sliced with some salt sprinkled on it. I don't know if the baby liked it, but at least it didn't give me bad heartburn.

Over it

Pregnancy, that is.
I think there must be a point that every woman reaches where the end is in sight, but just out of reach, and she is feeling like crap, that she just wants it all to be done with.
For me, that time is now.
Just get on with it. I am ready to hug on my baby and clean up after him and be tired all the time. I will trade the nausea and hot flashes and cankles and heartburn. I am already exhausted, but being exhausted while having my body and mental state back would be ok.
Bring on the diapers and bottles and laundry and all that stuff. Give me my snugly little man.
I am truly not cut out to make babies.
"I love being pregnant" people are idiots with bad memory. They only remember the attention or whatever else they selectively want to remember. They certainly are not remembering my current state.
I feel like an emotional, forgetful manatee that just ate a gallon of jalapenos and grew fat little legs. Wait, maybe not. I don't think manatees can sweat. Anyway, if they could, I would feel like a beached one lying on 120 degree sand and sweating.
Awww, the baby is kicking me. He said "it sucks in here...let me out".
I won't go into the details of losing a pair of shorts that I had in my hand, wearing only one giant hoop earring to see a client who probably now thinks I am a pirate, or crying at random in the bagel shop and Golden Corral. Suffice to say I am done. If the baby shows up tomorrow, so long as he is healthy, that would be just fine.
Right now he is working my kidneys and lower back, so I probably need to go lay on my side and hug a pillow for awhile, as I count to myself how long I have left until I meet the little buddy that is in there pounding around and then accuse Mr. W of turning the AC off when he didn't.

Progress

Just like the saying about losing weight after pregnancy...you know...9 months to put it on, another 9 months to take it off, I am feeling a parallel to this with our home.
5 years to trash and clutter this place, 5 years to clear it out and clean it.
I spent this morning on the floor of the bathroom cleaning out all the stuff in the cabinets and drawers and medicine chest, etc. In that same amount of time, Mr. W managed to clean out two desk drawers and pile everything on top of a tv/entertainment center in our office.
Now he likes to say I piddle and call me slow, but damn. Seriously. At the rate of one drawer in an hour, I am a little in awe over just what it was he was doing while I was rummaging around on the bathroom floor.
Needless to say, the bathroom is looking much better. The desk is ready for the trash and our stuff is ready to move into or is already in the new desk. There is only just a short amount of time left before we will be making the old office into the nursery. We have the paint and Mr. W is picking up the crib while I type this. Uncle Eric is supposed to help with the wiring(which had me so frustrated yesterday I nearly cried) next weekend, and before you know it, we'll have a room ready to go for this little guy. It's a good thing, too, because Mommy is losing her sanity and is really wanting that out of the way so she can start throwing more things away and scrubbing around here. Nesting. It has finally set in. I only wish it would have started 6 weeks ago when I had more energy and motivation.

The baby gets what the baby wants

So this whole craving thing. Let me put it into my own perspective. I think that there are some cravings that are strictly just an answer to "your body needs...xyz", so if your sugar is low, you may crave something sweet or starchy or if your iron is low, you may want dark greens or some meat(or dog food).

I hear about the people who want to eat soap, dirt, detergent, chalk, paste, and what not. This is a condition known as pica, and thankfully, not something I have experienced that I can tell. Nothing too terribly odd on my list.

There is another kind of craving in pregnancy which I think is pretty common. This is one that I have had on a few occasions, thus calling for fish sandwiches with ketchup, ketchup in general(which I never normally eat at all), blue icees and similar foods. These are when nothing else is what you want. These, for me anyway, tend to be because everything else around me is making me sick. The thought of any other food doesn't appeal to me. Frankly, a year ago if someone had told me I would be eating ketchup straight from a packet by choice I would have said they were out of their mind. Now, even though it sounds nasty, it sounds totally feasible.

The only other type of craving I have had is one that requires you to eat the same thing over and over either because it tasted so incredibly wonderful the last time you had it, or it gave your baby much joy. What I mean by that is there are certain things that the baby really gets moving for. My first of such discoveries was a chocolate, peanut butter and banana sundae I happened to order at dinner one night. He was banging around for an hour or so after I finished. I hadn't really found something specific other than sweets that he liked until yesterday. Mr. W was out at a ball tournament and I got to choose my own dinner(always wonderful for me, since I am not the carnivore that he is)

I hadn't done my "veggie" shopping(yes, I shop for groceries in specific places based on what I am buying and the selection or prices at various stores). I have plenty of meat and microwave foods, but no good vegetables to speak of in the house, so instead of shopping I did what any pregnant woman would do at 8pm and stopped to see the Colonel at KFC. We had green beans and corn and mashed potatoes for dinner and the belly dancing started. I could sense the excitement in my uterus, and so, here I am, eating the same thing again for lunch today. This weekend I will be heading to the store to stock up on some fresh vegetables and, if I am lucky, I might hunt down some good tomatoes at a farmer's market. Maybe I can find that ripe August tomato I have been craving since March, since it is now August. Maybe I can even have the BLT I have dreamed of for months. Whether the baby wants it or not, he's getting it if I find it. This is a relationship built on compromise at the moment.

On another note, I keep losing the remote in our bedroom. It falls off of the bed at night and keeps ending up right beside it. After looking last night I couldn't find it and made Mr. W look. He got out of bed, and with a few grunts and frustration handed it to me and said "it is right here next to you". I then had to explain to him, that based on the fact that I can no longer see my own feet, I also cannot see what is right underneath my feet. Hopefully the dog will stay out from under me for the next 9 weeks or he'll get a crushing blow one of these days. Thank goodness he is pretty quick to move. The cat, on the other hand, is another story.

It all happened when the sky opened up...

Yes, today should go down in history. I guess it kind of will, at least it will have a legacy.

You see, today is the day that we finally decided to agree on a name for our baby. *cue the singing choir and sky opening up*

After being asked over and over and over and over and over and over...I think you get the point...I finally told Mr. W today that I was sick and tired of our baby not having a name and having to tell everyone we hadn't decided on anything yet. "Can't we please pick a name for this baby?" I pleaded when he walked in from the gym. I had been throwing around a few in my head that I hadn't remembered him shooting down or the two of us ever discussing, and was prepared with a few suggestions. Little did I know that one of them came straight from one of his favorite movies, which he thought was incredibly cool. It goes against a rule I had, actually 2 that I was trying to avoid, but I have decided to overlook them, because I think it is a fitting name for our kid.

A friend of ours had said more than once, I think, that one day, it would just come to us. I think that was today. It isn't like this name never crossed my mind. I have always liked it, but thought Mr. W wouldn't, I guess, so we never really talked about it much at all.

At the end of the day, though, it is really a name that I think suits both of us, for whatever reason. Not really indulgent, not fancy, not too cute, not too long, not hard to spell, yet still a little unique in it's own little way.

So I guess I should go ahead and spill the goods.

The movie that I mentioned is The Bad News Bears. I always loved this movie, too, but I am terrible with remembering who was who in just about every movie unless I have seen it 100 or more times. When I found out which kid he was, the name just seemed all the more perfect.

Our son's name is Tanner. Tanner Chase.