Tired. Good, But Tired.

I often think among all of the things I have to do, that blogging should be one of them.  I can honestly say I am truly honored by all of the people who take time out of their busy lives to read about mine.  It is 10:30 at night and I have been looking forward to bed since around 8 PM.  I have plans to interview my husband about his week going solo with Eleanor and to my mom who is happy to say she stays at home with her newest and youngest grand baby.  Those two items do require time and planning and I currently spend any time not at work with my husband and with Eleanor or sluggishly wandering the kitchen or living room trying to figure out something small I can do to make my husband's day a little bit easier.  Currently, he is in the bedroom asleep and I am putting E to sleep in the living room.  Once she is out, we head to the bedroom, sparing Matt her cries and grunts.  Don't worry, I take the night shift and Matt takes the morning shift.

In any case, many folks who visit the library are excited to see me back behind the reference desk.  Many people talk about my sudden departure and are happy to hear how our little family is thriving.  People ask to see pictures and I must be one of the worst people in the world, because I show them all the photos of E where she's making funny faces.

Okay, I'll include at least one cute one, but she's still making a face.

Mommy, You're Doing What?

This was not quite the face E made when I reminded her that I was going back to work and she would be home alone with daddy. At my earliest I could have returned the Friday or Saturday before Labor Day. I cannot express how pleased I was to hear my superiors at work tell me they were flexible if I felt I should need or want extra time at home beyond the traditional six weeks. With E needing some extra care, I told work I wanted a full six weeks at home with her, not just six weeks total. You may remember Matt took two weeks off once E was home. That was a wonderful two weeks and then began four weeks of me staying at home.

Now it is Matt's turn to be a stay at home parent. Matt and I had a serious discussion last night about this role. I told him if he was accomplished he was not allowed to brag about it too much. With nursing and pumping I felt like a rock star when I was able to do anything else like wash clothes or dishes, or prep or cook dinner. I told him it was hard and I was constantly tired and occasionally exhausted. Tomorrow, I become a working mom. Wish my husband good luck. <3

A Quick Confession

I cannot recall the topic of conversation, but my husband told me this week he had a confession. Towards the end of my pregnancy I had acid reflux. Before my doctor gave me something for the issue, my wonderful husband assumed an additional role of providing me much needed relief by burping me. It sounds weird, it felt weird asking and being on the receiving end of such a task, but it was necessary. The big confession was my husband was glad I was no longer pregnant because he did not like burping me, but had no issue burping our daughter. You see, babies backs are about the size of your hand, making a baby much easier to burp. Yes, my husband and I are silly.

Adventures with Beer and a Baby, a Restaurant Fail

Labor Day was a wonderful long weekend for our little family. We had visitors and as tradition, we searched the city for a local eatery to provide everyone with a delicious and unique eating experience.  After some discussion, we excitedly ventured out to a new bar/restaurant called HopCat. This Michigan-based eatery boasts 130 beers on tap with a constantly changing beer menu. While this is a bar, their website states that anyone under the age of 21 is permitted to enter with a parent only before 9:00 p.m. As a side note, my husband and I recently discovered the above is permitted due to a metal railing around "the bar area" similar to those found in amusement park lines.

The food was yummy and I was told the beverages were enjoyable. I abstained, but they do provide three free samples. If you are not sure and your server does not offer, be sure to ask. The meal was a little less enjoyable when it became time for the necessary pre-meal diaper change. With no changing table in the restroom, we were fortunate enough to be seated at a table much like a picnic table, providing a surface larger than a traditional kitchen chair to change a baby. It is never my preference to change a baby IN a restaurant where people consume food, but this one gave us no choice, except to venture to the front of the restaurant and change a baby on a bench in the entryway. It was busy, said bench was far away with narrow passageways and was likely to be occupied by hungry guests waiting for a seat themselves. With the potential of having a squirmy baby, I wanted my husband to help hold her in place, so I started the deed where we sat. With no details required, this was one of those instances where running water would be required.

The sink was a trough that had three faucets, which to the best of my knowledge is the sink pictured here. The type of sink, the faucets and the shower head like base made it easy to stick a soiled baby bottom under running water.

"I am so sorry and I know this is not very sanitary, but does anyone have any objection if I rinse my baby off in the sink?" The three ladies did not object and inquired where the changing table was. After a very brief conversation and at least one parent advising a school-aged girl to wait for one of the other faucets to become available, I swept E's bottom under the faucet and was incredibly thankful for such an understanding crowd. I wondered if my husband, or any man, needed to change a diaper if he would be afforded the same kindness. I will also add that E does not like having her diaper changed and this experience often yields a 90% chance of E using her entire lung capacity to show her dislike of the process. With bright eyes and no screams or tears (thank the heavens), I was faced with yet another issue. The two trash cans were labeled for paper towel disposal only since all of the towels were placed into compost. This was another great restroom conversation involving all of the women in the immediate area.

We spoke with our server and asked to speak with a manager. We wanted to be sure we were consulting the highest tiered employee who may likely have the power to be able to change this situation. Unfortunately, HopCat is part of a chain with locations in a few different states. He agreed that there needed to be changing tables and it is not a question of cost, but that permission would be required by the owners to install one. We also voiced our concern about having no where to dispose of a dirty diaper. I could tell he was distressed by the situation and he stated this was not the first time he had heard this. He told us he would pass the complaint to the owners in his notes and encouraged us to contact the top most tier of the company, which we plan on doing in hopes that a change can be made.  Who knew a simple piece of plastic attached to a wall would make an eating experience more enjoyable?

Mommy Favorites

Eleanor is just over a month old and in the three weeks she has been home I have found a few a things that I am incredibly lucky to own.

Matt and I received a Keurig as a wedding gift about two years ago.  We are big coffee drinkers.  My preferred drink is a no foam sugar free vanilla latte. A few years back, while working two jobs (one of which required me to be at work at 3:00 a.m.) I invested in an espresso machine.  My lattes have taken a back seat to the Keurig for the simple fact that I can operate the Keurig with one hand.

Anything with a handle makes the list.  Again, the importance of doing things with one hand is underestimated.

Our cloth wipes warmer also makes me pretty happy.  E has been unfortunate enough to have had diaper rash for over a month, the kind where a layer of skin has worn away exposing the under skin.  A warm wash cloth is gentle on her skin and having it on demand means less tears and crying during changing. Plus, who would want a cold wipe on their bottom?

Car seats are a necessity, buy E really enjoys hers. Last night I needed more sleep and decided to put Eleanor in her car seat, which was secured in her stroller and placed at the foot of the bed. 

Last night also introduced us to the value of this owl. It is available only at Target and is possibly the best $12 Matt and I have spent recently. This little guy has two vibrating speeds, providing comfort for baby, and runs for 5 minutes before shutting off automatically.  It came with two AA batteries that are easily replaced by way of a zipper on the back. I was pretty exhausted last night, but I believe I heard my husband utter the words, "I love that owl."

My wonderful husband also makes the list, but he is always at the top despite this placement. After a day at work he comes home to a messy house ready to cook dinner, wash dishes, get bottles and materials ready for pumping, and more. He often takes an overnight feeding so I can get a bit more rest, which is a gift that makes a HUGE difference in my day.

New Photos and a Scheduled Visit!

In her swing

Eleanor is nearly a month old.  She does a pretty good job of sleeping at night, but she still needs to eat every three hours, leaving me to sleep in two hour chunks, which was not something I had expected.  Matt does a phenomenal job of helping by either taking care of the feeding and letting me sleep or feeding E while I pump.  I would love to save time and just have her drink what's "on tap," but the hospital had her on a pretty strict eating schedule and the little girl has a history of falling asleep at the bar.  However, she drinks from a bottle in her sleep and as long as she is eating and gaining weight, I can't complain... too much.

Check out the cat in the background

Kiddo with a soiled diaper

Eleanor makes some pretty fabulous faces.  There are so many I could watch her all day, which is partially why the blog is not updated on a regular basis.  So many people know that writing is a passion of mine and I would love to pour my heart and soul into this and other projects, but babies are just so hard to peel from the arms of their mommies.  Here's a taste of Eleanor.

Oh, and a note for those who are local, Eleanor will be heading to Zionsville on Friday, August 22.  Anyone who is interested can meet us at the Starbucks in Boone Village around 1:15.  Yes, the library is the natural place to meet, but it is closed that day.

Eleanor's Rough Start

Today is Eleanor's due date and yet she is nearly three weeks old. While the delivery was smooth, Eleanor had a rough start. She did not go to the NICU, but into a middle-grade nursery for babies who needed a little extra care. The evening of her birth E got to spend a bit of time in the room with us, but staff wanted to quickly get her into the nursery. I knew she was in the best of care and told nurses to take her away and to give her whatever she needs.  We did get to see E whenever we wanted, but holding time was limited. In short, an infection, low blood sugar, mandatory tanning bed sessions, four IVs, a week of antibiotics, and quick breathing that led to a feeding tube which prevented us from feeding her was all on the list of what E did during her first week of life. Despite all this, E was always breathing on her own and this gave us great comfort.

Friday: E was finally able to visit our room. Only Matt and I were allowed to hold her, no one else. The same went for when Matt and I visited E in the nursery. It felt like we were on vacation. Staff visited us frequently, answered all of our questions, were incredibly accommodating, unbelievably supportive, and polite. Matt and I agreed that it felt like we were on vacation, in a nice hotel.

Saturday: I was released from the hospital. Matt and I soon began a weird week. I was no longer pregnant, but there was no baby at home.

Sunday: Matt was not feeling well and made a decision to return to work and delay his time off.  I spent as much time at the hospital as I could so I could hold and bond with E since our time had been so limited.  My mom joined me so she could see the baby and I appreciated having the company. 

Monday: Matt returned to work.  I returned to the hospital with my mom. E had specific times she needed to eat and only had 30 minutes to eat.  Nursing proved not to be too much of an option since there was such a short and small window.  This left me with the option to pump and bottle feed her.  I felt it was the only thing I could do, so I ran myself ragged running all over the hospital during the day and waking up in the middle of the night so I could give her more milk.Also, Matt and I kept a scheduled meet and greet with a pediatrician. I did what I had to do and pumped in the car, in the waiting room, and in the exam room using a jacket. The doctor was impressed with how positive and calm we were, while we were impressed with her warmth and honesty.  In about a minute we declared her E's doctor.

Tuesday: Another day at the hospital, but this time I was flying solo.  I was delighted that a coworker offered to visit, who I knew was familiar with the situation of not being able to bring your baby home.

Wednesday: Another solo day at the hospital.  This day brought about a visitor from work, who brought E her first summer reading prize.  Yes, I had been reading to her and I was super excited to hear she had been registered for the reading program at work. 

Thursday: Another day at the hospital and another visit from a coworker.  This was the day that threw me into a frenzy.  We were being told each day from the hospital that the earliest E would get to go home was Friday, but no one was giving us additional information or any updates.  This was the day I arrived at the hospital at 11:00 a.m. instead of 8:00 a.m.  I underestimated how taxing it was to spend so much time at the hospital.  When I arrived, the doctor said, "How'd you like to take her home today?"  I immediately burst into tears.  I was prepared to go in that day and be told that E could come home late Friday or that she needed a bit more time and would not be released until the weekend.  I was so incredibly overwhelmed and excited.  My daughter was finally going home and my husband would be seeing her for the first time in five days.

I cannot remember what time I arrived home that afternoon.  I wanted to sit down to dinner with Matt and get ready to bring our girl home, finally.  I asked Matt what we should bring her home in.  With nearly three weeks to go, that was yet another task that we were going to do at a later time.  We decided on a green Hawaiian shirt (Matt loves Hawaiian shirts) that was a size too big, but we didn't care.  Matt put on a shirt that matched E's and I changed into the closest thing I owned to a Hawaiian shirt.

The nurse took pictures for us and we tried hard not to be too happy, knowing that so many other parents and babies would be spending yet another night in the nursery, but we couldn't help ourselves.  I drove our family home and had banished my husband to the back seat of the car for some long overdue bonding time.


We arrived home and my husband parked himself on the floor in the first room he set foot in, the library. 
We arrived home around 9:30 p.m.  In an hour, E would officially be a week old.

Oh, Baby! (Part 4)

I know, there are a lot of parts to this story, but the goal was to not overwhelm anyone with a single massive post. 

My husband entered the room and I told him I was going to start pushing soon.  We were on the verge of becoming parents, weeks earlier than what we expected or were prepared for.  Nurses and staff were walking around the room, they brought in equipment, altered the bed, and at 9:00 p.m. they told me the doctor was on her way and I would be pushing around 10:00 p.m. 

10:00 p.m. My doctor arrives.  I remember some things, but not too many details, which I am okay with. 

"Dad, do you want to watch?"
"No," Matt said with a big grin on his face.
"Mom, do you want a mirror?"
"No," I said with a smile.
"Dad, do you want to cut the cord?"
"No," he said with another smile on his face.

With this taken care of, it was time to begin pushing.  Thanks to my new best friend, the epidural, I could not feel contractions.  Doctors explained they would watch the monitor and wait for me to have a contraction.  I would take a breath and push for ten seconds, take a breath and push for ten second, and one last breath and ten second push.  In four or five sets of pushes, Eleanor was here.  It was 10:24 p.m. and Matt's phone had just died.  Luckily, he had his iPad which allowed him to take pictures.  Matt was suddenly a busy man.  He was all over the hospital room taking pictures, asking questions, and soaking everything in.

Matt later told me that Eleanor and I had surprised the doctor and the staff.  Apparently I could birth babies for a living according to the folks in the room.  From water break to baby in under 12 hours.  What is your hurry, kiddo?  Eleanor came so quickly that the doctor was not quite ready and had to juggle her a bit.  Good thing he had not told me that until recently.

There you go, that is the story of how 6 pound, 3 ounce; 19.25 inch Eleanor Grace entered the world.

Oh, Baby! (Part 3)

Sadly this is the second time I am typing this part.  Last time I did it with an iPad in my lap while typing with one hand and holding a baby with the other.  Even more sad, the blog did not save.

I failed to mention earlier that when I was admitted to the delivery room, I was given pitocin to speed up the labor process.  With contractions registering off the charts, my husband saw me start to cry.  "It's time for an epidural, isn't it?"  I nodded and he took charge to see that I got something to ease the pain, or in this case, completely erase it.

I feared the birthing process and getting an epidural.  After a doctor's visit in June wherein I was told in lamaze class to read an excerpt of a booklet and talk to my doctor about my birth plan.  Birth plan?  Ummm... the plan is to get the kid out of me.  I tried talking to my doctor about the class and I broke out in tears.  I told the doctor I wasn't too bad until I was reading the booklet.  She reached for it, looked inside and told me not to read it and not to do any research.  By the time the appointment was over, I decided not to go to work that day, except I was crying so hard that I found it difficult to call in.  My husband was not answering his cell phone, so I gave the staff his office phone number and they called Matt to come and get me since I did not feel as though I could drive.  Yup, I was a mess.  I told a parent about this and she was kind enough to share her birthing stories with me when I was ready.  You know what?  I was going to call her on Thursday, the day my water broke, to see if she was available on Friday for a chat.  I had finally felt as though I had calmed down enough to talk about the process without causing myself or the baby any extra stress.  Had I previously mentioned that I was not ready for Eleanor?

7:00 p.m.: Matt was finally hungry and ventured down to the cafeteria, except it was closed.  I once again urged him to go out and get something to eat so he would have his energy and strength for when I needed him.  I believe we even discussed that first babies take a long time and he was not going to miss anything.

8:00 p.m.: Staff informed me I was dilated 10 centimeters (or close to it) and that they would be calling my doctor and I would be pushing soon.  I was in shock.  What happened to babies taking a long time to come out?  What is this kid's hurry?  I thought about texting Matt that he needed to come back, but I learned in a previous job that panic breeds panic and Matt hurrying back could cause an accident.  Matt would be back soon.  I busied myself with my phone and found out that Matt had checked in at Buffalo Wild Wings, which was within walking distance from the hospital.  I tried to remain calm and convinced myself that he would not be sitting down and ordering a meal.  What I did not know is that he tried the grocery store down the street and then ventured to one of his favorite wing places.  I also did not know that he was in the hospital waiting area eating.  Why?  He knew I was hungry and could not eat and did not want me to have to smell food.  He is a wonderful man, even if he did scare the crap out of me.

Oh, Baby! (Part 2)

Thank you all for your patience. I cannot believe that part of my priority list the day after having a baby was to update my blog. I wanted to be able to share my story with all of the many, many wonderful people in my life.

1:15 p.m. (Maybe): This is where I begin losing track of time. The hospital was waiting for us and I was sent to triage, where staff confirmed that my water did in fact break. "What else could it be?" I asked the hospital staff. "Sometimes people pee themselves and think it is their water breaking."  I suppose, but knowing now that amniotic fluid leaks and rejuvenates, I don't know how anyone could mistake it. Staff confirmed I was going to stay and they got me a bracelet and began to make my husband and I as comfortable as they could in a delivery room. Staff informed me I was dilated to 2 centimeters and administered pitocin. Matt told me he forgot to bring his camera. I reminded him that first babies take a while and if he left right at that moment, he would have enough time to go home, grab the camera, and return to the hospital before rush hour traffic started to build.  He had his phone and his iPad and assured me he was okay.

We watched a movie (Grown Ups 2) and Matt began the all important job of fetching me ice chips. It was quite some time before I experienced contractions.  I had been keeping an eye on the monitors and was finally starting to feel something that I guessed was a contraction.  This is when the birthing process got a bit scary.  Everything was going so fast, too fast. The hospital monitors measured contractions on a scale of 0-12. I hardly felt anything when the monitor moved up to 2, but definitely felt contractions when they registered at a 4. Eleanor just couldn't wait to enter the world. Contractions began registering at a 12 and flat-lined. I had no time to adjust or prepare.

Oh, Baby! (Part 1)

Baby Eleanor is here!  With 20 days until her due date she was quite the surprise.  So this entry is not too long, I will be brief.

11:15 a.m.: Working in my office for just over two hours and not having even stood up once, I felt as though I wet myself.  I got up to go to the bathroom only to realize another coworker had just stepped in.  I had a light breakfast (I ran out of cereal) so I decided to heat up my lunch, a menial four pierogies since my acid reflux had been kicking in and bland had been sounding pretty good for the past few days.  While thankfully standing on the tile floor, I discovered my water broke.  I immediately called my husband and then called my supervisor.  This tidbit is worth mentioning because the last teen librarian's water broke and she immediately called the same person.  I tried to quickly get my supervisor up to date on what was going on since I really wasn't where I wanted to be yet, because let's face it, I was pretty sure I had at least another week to get some things together.  I felt like it took an hour to get her up to speed, but it was probably closer to 30 or 45 minutes.  Then I drove myself home (about a 20-25 minute drive).  I was not experiencing contractions, so I felt comfortable doing so.

12:15 p.m. (or somewhere around there): I get home to discover Matt had stopped by the store to pick up some baby detergent and tossed in a few baby items.  Again, we were certain we still had at least a week before Eleanor arrived.  I never did eat those pierogies and I knew I wasn't going to eat at the hospital, so I went to the kitchen and microwaved my lunch.  The nurse or receptionist at the doctor talked to me and told me to grab my bag and go to the hospital.  Still, I was not experiencing any contractions.  "Do I have time to pack a bag?"  "You don't have a bag packed?" she said with some alarm or concern in her voice.  "What do I really need besides my toothbrush and toothpaste?" As a side note, what nurse or someone at the OB would alarmingly or surprisingly ask a pregnant lady that question.  Way to stress someone out who is perfectly calm.  Also, still no contractions.

Operation Cloth Diaper

Our cloth diaper stash.

When I first told my mom that Matt and I were using cloth diapers, she couldn't believe it.  "Mom, cloth diapers have come a long way since you used them."  No more folding giant cloth squares, risking poking kiddo with massive diaper pins, and no more plastic pants or wool soakers.  I explained that modern cloth diapers have a waterproof shell similar to disposable diapers.  Inside, you place one or two liners similar to a feminine napkin.  I showed my mom one of our cloth diapers and she  melted in the adorableness of it.  That's right, mom.  Cloth diapers are adorable, stylish, readily available in stores, and easy to use since Matt and I know people who are using them with great success.

Why cloth diapers?  I am incredibly frugal.  It seems like a waste to use disposable diapers on a regular basis, for two plus years.  I have better things to spend my money on, like starting a college fund or delicious food.  Another reason, my husband and I both love the environment.  While cloth diapers are a big upfront expense, they pay for themselves quickly. Don't you have to buy constantly?  No!  What you cannot see in the above picture are all the white snaps.  Those allow for the diapers to be used throughout much of the baby's diaper wearing days.  Win!

Just the Two of Us

Three weeks and change until August 6.  I work next Saturday and somebody could come early, so this weekend my husband and I decided to dedicate a day to just the two of us. 

I woke up around 8:20, which was later than I had hoped.  Before I could sit down on the couch this morning, I was told it was raining on the Illinois/Indiana border and it was going to hit Indy around 10:00 a.m.  We decided to hit the shower and eat breakfast at the Zionsville Farmer's Market.  I had never been and was incredibly excited when my husband said we could buy two loaves of bread (I love bread) and challah rolls.

After Zionsville, we drove on the rainy back roads to the Danville Farmer's Market, two markets I had never visited were hit in a single day.  This market was quite small and less impressive than Zionsville, but I did find some delicious biscotti, I'm a sucker for twice baked Italian cookies, and a much coveted cinnamon roll.  It was not Cinnabon, but it was quite tasty.

Our next adventure was the movie theater. We were later than what we hoped and we decided to use a 15% off coupon at Burlington Coat Factory.  Our newly purchased, big ticket item is a booster seat that straps to a chair, which we will use in lieu of a traditional high chair... in six months.  With lots of time until the 1:30 showing, we went to Kohl's.  It sounds silly, but Kohl's touts a baby registry.  Online we found all kinds of fascinating items, including a cloth diaper wipe warmer, but sadly, the store yielded over-priced clothing.

Remains of bag #2

Off to the movie, where we loaded up on popcorn, a household favorite, and watched Tammy.  With the rain subsided and a sense of calm blanketing both myself and my husband, we ventured over to Barnes and Noble.  My husband was looking for a book to read and picked up two titles by Brandon Sanderson, while I searched and over searched for a journal.  This is courtesy of Matt's 98 year old grandmother. 

Back in May, she told me I should keep a journal and I told her I wouldn't always have something to write about, "Write about the weather," she said.  I found it hard to argue with, especially when grandma gave me money to fund the project.  Grandma is fascinating.  She has no idea how much a journal costs.  I could have used that money to purchase a beautiful and stunning leather bound journal with incredible detail and unique clasps, I could not talk my frugal self into making the purchase.  I purchased this beauty and can purchase several more thanks to grandma's generosity, and potential lack of cash counting.  This way, I can still purchase another four or so journals and thank grandma for her generosity everyday I write about the weather.

Off to Meijer to grab some acid reflux meds my doctor prescribed and time to put the pills to the test at Claddagh Irish Pub.  I was looking for cheese and found on the menu in the form of bacon mac and cheese.  Matt was concerned that I would be disappointed with this dish.  I told our server that I was expecting and was searching for a creamy mac and cheese.  He assured me that the dish would be creamy and if it did not meet my standards they could make it creamier or I could order something else.  The mac and cheese was tasty, but it was a portion larger than what I was willing to consume thanks to the acid reflux, but trust me when I say it will be a tasty treat at 3:00 a.m. 

There was one thing that we hoped to fit in our day that just did not make it, a nap.  As a reward to reading all the way to the end, here is a photo for you.  In case you are wondering, yes, someone has dropped.

Rant: Babies R Us: Two Strikes

My husband is 39 years old, I am 32, and we are expecting our first baby.  My husband has been planning on fatherhood years before we met in 2010.  My husband is incredibly active when it comes to doing research on baby products.  In January, we took a weekend field trip to Babies R Us and Buy Buy Baby.  We wanted an opportunity to price a few higher end baby items and check out our preferences as well the brand quality.  We shook cribs to test stability, pulled strollers from the shelves to test how easy it is to set up and fold down, and even examined pack and plays to find one that would best suit our needs.  Babies R Us had more reasonable prices and more of the items we thought we would need to help us better serve our newest family member and navigate what may be considered as our greatest challenge.  We first registered online.  No, let me clarify, Matt registered with Amazon, giving me permission to be the secondary person and to add to the registry.  I took the easy way out and had a friend with a 15 month old add stuff for me.  This list was later altered when Matt went online and registered at Babies R Us, moving nearly all the items from one list to another.  Matt is the primary person on this account and as a secondary person, I am not even searchable.

Strike 1: In June, Babies R Us calls Matt's phone and leaves a message.  His name is clearly pronounced on the voicemail, not mine.  The store employee left a message for Patricia VanArsdale about expecting a coupon for 15% off all the unpurchased items on our baby registry.  Let's recap, Matt is the primary account person on the registry, his phone number was listed on the registry, and in case we are not sure, his voicemail clearly gives his name and not mine.  Matt was and is still furious and a phone call I made to corporate seems to have done very little good.

Strike 2: We went in the store to add a few additional items to the registry and purchase a few things with an awesome coupon.  Matt sat down at a table just inside the door while I stood behind him and off to the side.  I gazed in the distance at diaper bags (our latest mind-boggling buy) while Matt asked the employee for the gun, saying the baby registry was under his name.  "It's under your name?"  she asked him looking at me.  I confirmed for the employee that my husband is in charge and is the primary person on the account.  She looked confused as she looked between the two of us.  Has she never met a man so eager to be a father that he took over the baby registry?  Matt was once again frustrated and unhappy with the actions of a store employee.  How difficult is it to smile, apologize, and actually listen to what a person is saying?  Heaven forbid we toss in the fact that the employee could have made small talk and say that few expecting fathers are as proactive as he is in getting a baby registry ready.  I feel as though I am justified to say this because I work with the public and when I make mistakes, I apologize profusely and do whatever I can to encourage the person to come back and see us.  Did I mention I work at a library?  A place that exchanges no money for services?  Oh course, I will also toss in that I have excellent customer service and letters from parents and teens to prove it.  We are not done with our registry or Babies R Us and hope (for the sake of my husband who is eager to finally meet his offspring), I hope the store has more polite employees on our future visits, because my husband is fighting the urge not to yell and scream at the employees.  And you know what, I think they would deserve it, maybe not as much as he wants to yell, but they would deserve it.

Let the Countdown Begin!

My husband and I have been keeping track of the number of days until baby for quite some time.  The folks at work hear me freak out about the amount of work I have to do before Egg arrives.  However, I keep reminding coworkers and myself that my doctor could tell me any day now that I am not permitted to go back to work.  This is the new sign that is on my door at work.  To remind everyone how many days are left until baby and how many days I hope to have left at work before heading home and taking on my latest and newest job (but still returning to the library in mid to late September depending on when you know who arrives).  Lucky for me I have had a smooth pregnancy and have only recently experienced discomfort, which mostly comes from someone discovering that my ribs are a great play toy.  Keep reading this week, blogs are scheduled to go up every other day through Sunday and an additional blog on the burner when our last piece of the baby's room arrives, so keep checking back often.

The Most Unhelpful Instructions Ever

With an awesome coupon my husband and I purchased a pack and play.  We ended up getting one by Graco.  It has been awhile, but 17 years ago I helped my mom set up a pack and play so my niece had a place to sleep, so I was not entirely new to this game.  I had lots of confidence in myself until we went to set it up.  It was not going well and something made it worse... directions and photos.  We followed step 5, but only realized upon struggling on step 10 that we did step 5 wrong.  The yelling and frustration were immediately targeted at the poor directions.  I can call them poor because I write step-by-step instructions for teenagers on a regular basis without any issue.

With the pack and play together, where do we put it?  With a newborn napper and changer, the first place for it is the end of the bed.  This will help with those first few weeks and my fear of being such a solid sleeper (I've slept through tornado sirens) that I will fall asleep while feeding the baby in the middle of the night.  My wonderful husband is aware of my fear and is aware that helping however he can may include waking up and talking to me if I need him to do so.  The bedroom is a great nighttime solution for the pack and play, but what about when baby is sleeping and we are across the house in the living room?  It is not easy to wheel the pack and play from one room to another.  Possible, but not easy and I definitely cannot do it holding a baby in one hand.  My handy husband had the answer.  Remove the bedroom door.  I am still holding out for an additional sleeper-type item for the living area so we can keep the pack and play in the bedroom. In the meantime, I am greatly amused that our bedroom has no door, which is important because we have a vocal cat that works like an alarm clock, which I sleep through.

Doctor, a Movie, and a Craving

On July 3, I began the first of my weekly appointments.  Lucky for me, everything is going GREAT, which is really important because I am a workaholic and if I was not at work I would be concerned.  There was a bit of information that the doctor (who is not my typical doctor) mentioned at my appointment.  In two weeks, I have gained five pounds.  Oops.  My wonderful husband noted how well I have done through most of my pregnancy gaining less than 30 pounds, but I no longer have that tidbit as a bragging right.

For the long holiday weekend I brought a few movies home from work, including "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty."    I remember my husband and I watching the previews for this movie in early December.  We knew right after Thanksgiving that we were expecting and seeing the previews sparked an impromptu post-New Year's trip to Las Vegas which resulted in us being stuck in Denver, renting a car, and driving halfway across the country.  The roads were great for most of the trip, but with negative temperatures we had to stop to purchase some warmer clothes and milk since we were sure our local store would be wiped clean of the kitchen staple.  Today while watching the movie, I asked my husband if he remembered what was going on in his life when this movie came out in theaters.  "We went to Vegas," he said.  He did not recall why, so I reminded him, "We just found out we were going to be parents."

In the movie, Walter Mitty ended up in an airport and went to Cinnabon.  "Mmmm, Cinnabon."  "Do you want to go to Cinnabon?"  my husband asked.  "Yes."  I could see the wheels turning, trying to process the exact location of the closest Cinnabon.  I told him the mall always has Cinnabon.  Wouldn't you know that I had to drop something off at a friend's house and would be going right by a mall?   Sadly, my acid reflux was beginning to kick in and I told my husband I would be unable to eat.  Turns out, there are only three Cinnabon locations in the state of Indiana: Circle Center Mall, Lafayette Square Mall, and a travel center in Shelbyville. I was prepared to drive home, but my husband had a craving of his own, ice cream.  Dairy Queen?  No.  Something from the grocery?  No.  He would let me know.  Turns out, Culver's was the answer.

A Handmade Gift

So many of the gifts Matt and I have received are special, adorable, and incredibly generous.  We are truly honored to be so well loved and could possibly never be able to show our appreciation to all of those who have dug into their pockets and taken time out of their busy day to search for a special gift to help in our journey as first time parents.  It would be nearly impossible to thank everyone for their thoughtfulness, but I couldn't pass up the chance to highlight a particular item. 

BEHOLD!  This is not just a hat.  Said hat is the first hat knitted by a librarian friend of mine who found the pattern from a Harry Potter knitting book.  Yes, librarians are nerdy, but we all think we're cool.  As a fellow knitter I can tell you that this gift is special.  Not just because it came from a good friend, who is a librarian, but because I knit and have yet to create anything for my own offspring.

Have you ever hand made an item for someone?  As a knitter, let me tell you, it can be the world's biggest pain.  By the time you finish, one typically goes through a series of feeling and emotions.  A person first feels elation at creating an amazing item, which is promptly waved in the air and shown to everyone the creator knows within a 20 foot radius and maybe even a few strangers.  After this, a wave of relief passes through the creator.  The long, long process comes to an end.  This is frequently recognized by rewarding oneself with a decadent treat, such as a beverage or chocolate.  During or after consumption begins another stage wherein the creator begins to complain about the time spent working on the item.  Sure, it is time, but that timeline started when a person begins searching for the perfect pattern, hopping from one store to another, looking at five shades of the same color with varying amounts of wool or mohair and the non-crafter you brought with you is typically unhelpful since they are unable to see the different qualities of each yarn that would make it a good candidate for the carefully selected pattern.  We will return to the complaining stage where the creator promises to never forge another gift from their hands.  Except we do.  We both enjoy and dread times when someone passes an item to us to repair or a request a particular item for a gift giving event.  I do find knitting fun, but just as with any project or event, there is a piece that fits the puzzle perfectly and it MUST be found, because when you create an item, a piece of you, a piece of your soul, is placed into that item.  Dare I say, it is a Horcrux? 

A Surprise Shower! Grab a Tissue.

Part of my job is to work with a group of students in grades 6-12 to plan programs, including summer reading, as well as creating activities for our first ever interactive movie (the first Harry Potter).  These kids are fantastic.  They are polite, smart, energetic and so much more.  After our meeting this week I let two teens into a room to take a look at craft supplies.  The adjoining room was dark, yet I could see outlines of people. When I turned on the lights, there were my teens, some parents, food, and gifts.  Looking back, I was glad I saw them and was slightly prepared (pregnancy hormones).   They really did surprise me.  

Yummy treats after nearly 20 teens.

Lebanese Honey Cake! YUM!

With a wonderful parent the driving force behind this event, she asked teens to bring me their favorite book.  They were a little heart broken when I said I wanted to take the gifts home to open them.  You see, they were all eagerly awaiting to tell me why the book they brought meant so much to them.  Seriously, that is so incredibly thoughtful I may never be able to read a single book because the thought alone brings tears to my eyes.  I don't know what I will do when each teen tracks me down at work and tells me why that particular title is their favorite.  There was not a single title that was duplicated.  

What my husband found when he came to help me unload my car.

Is your tissue handy?  This one choked up several of our staff members.  Do you see the two pictures and the big pink bow on the right hand side?  What you cannot see is the detail.  That poor topper has seen better days.  It is flat, squished, and actually a little wrinkled.  I was told that particular bow had a special story behind it that would be explained in the card.  It turns out that bow is more than a decade old.  A Jolly man carefully put it on the front porch of his home to welcome home his baby girl nearly 13 years ago and now it will be a part of our baby Egg's big homecoming.

Lost Lunch and More

"What are you looking for?" my coworker asked.
"I lost my lunch," I said and laughed.  "I mean, I brought my lunch and I cannot literally cannot find it."
After amusing myself for half the day with this tidbit, I came home to find that I did not bring my lunch to work in a paper bag, like I believed I had.  Behold!  Sitting on the fireplace, just feet from the door, is the bag I swear I put my lunch in (which did not need to be refrigerated) and carried from my car into my office.  But my lunch is not in it.  Where is my lunch?  I told my wonderful husband the story and he said, "There is your lunch, in the recycling bin." 

 

Do you see it?  Inside the top white bin is a box of peanuts.  It is empty.  Or is it?  Not empty.  There is my bread (which I was craving yesterday) and an apple that I have been trying to eat for more than a week.  You know what?  Today I wanted that damn apple.

So the next amusing tale comes from the kitchen sink (yup, this blog officially has everything).  My husband is fantastic.  He does all the cooking.  Always has.  When I ask him if he needs help with dinner, or any meal, he says, "With what?"  It is not really my job to do dishes, but if my husband says I can help him by relaxing, I can suck it up and wash dishes, which I am not fond of doing.  Until yesterday.  If you look at the picture, you will see the left side of the sink is bigger than the right and the faucet is off-center and behind the right side of the sink.  I have never found it to be easy to wash dishes, but when your tummy dictates how close you are allowed to stand to the sink, causing you to have to bend over, it changes the game.  Although today I will admit that I figured out the trick of lifting my tummy and letting it sit on top of the counter.  It makes me giggle and I feel silly, but in the three or so years I have lived with my husband, he has never really asked me to do anything in the kitchen, so I will continue the belly lifts and wash as many dishes as my back can handle.  I will also add Matt frequently has dinner on the table when I get home or he says, "Dinner will be ready in five minutes."  Yes, I do appreciate him and thank him every night for cooking me/us a delicious dinner.

I attempted to make this a dual purpose photo to include a belly shot, but my top is not cooperating.  What I am instead showing you is my haircut.  I just got it done and several of my coworkers complimented me on it today.  "Do you want to know a secret?"  I whispered.  They came close and I said, "My husband cut it."  I told them with my hair growing so fast I wanted something of a trim before spending a bit more money at my stylist, which I hope she forgives me for doing.  I plan on seeing her in mid-July to get a hair cut as well as a color, which includes highlights.  It's not a cheap visit, but stylists do not have things like sick time or insurance and have to pay rent for the chair and space they use, not to mention their license and any continuing education that may be required by the state of Indiana.  So really, the price you pay per hour to sit in a stylists chair is a good deal.  I'm cheap and can't always justify a hair cut as often as I would like.  After hearing my husband complain enough about the cost of a hair cut at Great Clips, he became brave and let me cut his hair.  

"It takes you so long to cut my hair," he says when he looks shaggy and appears to be due for a cut.  Yes, it does take longer when a non-trained professional cuts your hair, worries about screwing up, and does not have proper scissors.  I do okay. I think.  He has yet to shave his head to fix any cut I have given him.  So in this case, my husband saved us some cash and I hate to say it, but I may have it do it again sometime, but only after taking a gander at an instructional online video.  

So there you go.  A lost lunch, the kitchen sink, and a home done haircut. 

A Writing Sample

You may have noticed that my phone says, "Writer" on it.  That is my dream.  If you asked me in grade school what I wanted to be, my answer was a writer.  I have done some writing for tv, but in my opinion that is nothing to brag about.  I currently write for work, but mostly grants and a few blog posts.  I have taken a few classes at the Indiana Writers Center, but recently missed out on a series class for young adult writing.  I tried doing NaNoWriMo last November and failed miserably and called it quits after unnecessarily stressing myself out.  However, I did learn that I can plan ahead and make an outline, so I will give it another go this November and see how things work out.

I am a bit picky when it comes to writing.  I think a good writer will allow you to close your eyes and use all five of your senses (okay, maybe four since books don't smell like much more than paper) to let you live inside of someone else's world.  I will side step and say that I did not like "Divergent" by Veronica Roth for that reason.  I did not feel like I had a great relationship with the characters.  I was not invited into their world and I did not get to know them.  I felt as though the author wanted me to watch from a distance and did not want to let me in.  I tell people it read like swiss cheese, leaving large gaps in the story.  In any case, here is a piece of NaNoWriMo.  I only have pieces and I have not looked at them since November, so you may see errors and find names that I just put in with plans to change later. Also, I will toss in that no one has read this before.

    If you look deep enough into someone’s eyes, you can see a story.  Sometimes it is the story of their life, other times it is the story of moment.  A fraction of a second captured in time to be shared for an unexpected amount of time.  There’s a saying that a memory lasts a lifetime.  That is the great thing about pictures.  They last longer than a lifetime.  Photographs taken more than one hundred years ago still exist today.  A good photographer will find a way to look into someone’s eyes and let the person tell their own story.  A great photographer will find a way to capture the emotion in a single frame and secure it for a million lifetimes.  It is a small reason why I love taking pictures.  I am actually contributing to history and I’m only sixteen.  How many other teenagers can say they are helping the people of the future understand themselves by revealing secrets of the past?

Here is another piece.  Do you feel it?  Did I take you there?  The above was meant to be the beginning of the story, so I hope I grabbed your attention and left you wanting more.  If you do want more I think I have about two or three more entries or pieces that I would be willing to post here.  As far as I am concerned, your time is valuable and if I'm going to put something out there for you or anyone else to read, it better be worth your time.