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.