Sunday, April 27, 2008
I spent hours looking a paint chips trying to find the perfect light blue that would not clash with the wall color, not make the room feel like a cave, and still be blue enough to contrast with white clouds. In fact, I bought one blue, didn't like it, and went back to buy another blue. (And white, and a sea sponge for cloud-making, and plastic dropcloths for the floor, and new paint rollers and tape and a brush and three big pieces of plywood for cloud-making practice.) I thought of listing the prices of everything here for my readers, but that's too painful.
Instead, just picture me yesterday...after perfecting my cloud-making technique on my plywood planks in the garage...seven months pregnant standing on top of a bed covered in plastic, wearing a painter's mask to protect the unborn, staring up at a 3 foot by 3 foot patch of blue that is suddenly NOT the correct shade (even though it looked great on my plywood panel). I looked around at the vast amount of white ceiling remaining. I thought about everything that had to be taped and the plastic that had to be moved around to different parts of the room. I painted a sample cloud that did NOT look fluffy or cute because of the dang "popcorn" stuff on our ceiling and asked Frank what he thought about it. "I think it's okay." Every wife knows that those words actually mean "I hate it." I was irritated and already tired and had flecks of white AND blue ceiling popcorn in my hair. Frank offered to help me paint the entire ceiling just to see what we it would look like, and then we could paint it white again. But I knew from my little 3x3 patch just how hard it is to get good coverage on popcorn ceilings. It would be a HUGE pain to repaint if we didn't like it.
I thought about all the other stuff that needs to happen in that room (repainting a dresser, rebuilding the crib, putting together a daybed...), and I thought about all the other things on my list (closet and pantry organization projects, landscaping work, finishing Sophie's baby book, making some casseroles to freeze). And then I thought about a nine-year-old boy, telling me that fluffy clouds on the ceiling are for babies and begging, can we puhleeeeeease paint the ceiling black?!?
So I painted over my clouds in not-quite-right white. Sigh.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
So today's doctor appointment was the typical weigh-in, blood-pressure check, heartbeat timing, belly-measuring variety. Everything looks great -- we're 8 1/2 weeks from "Oh, Baby" Day! Sounds like that spicy Mickey Rourke flick...but, you know, without any sexiness whatsoever. And missing a week.
Here's part of the conversation I had at the doctor's office today:
Doc: "And you're eating right?"
Me: "I'm eating. Right."
Doc: "Okie doke. Any other questions? Any strange feelings or sensations?"
Me: "Actually, yes. Every now and then I feel a tiny scraping feeling...like a fingernail or something. Is that a muscle or tendon stretching?"
Doc: "Oh, no. That's probably his fingernails. Sometimes they can get right up beside the uterine wall and scratch away with their hands or toes."
Me: "That's completely creepy. I mean miraculous."
So, folks. He's trying to claw his way out into the world. Or, like my friend Brian suggested, he's ticking off a countdown tally. On my INSIDES. It won't be long now, son.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Jordan is bowling with some friends tonight -- my mom LOVED to bowl and even worked at the bowling alley for a while -- I had my own booth in the coffee shop where I often fell asleep staring up at wads of gum and listening to "You Picked a Fine Time to Leave Me, Lucille" on the juke box. I'm not sure if I can heave a bowling ball right now (in fact, they might accuse me of trying to smuggle a bowling ball out in my shirt), but maybe I'll whip up some tuna noodle casserole for lunch tomorrow. And if you're reading this and you're family, or if you knew my mom, I need your help telling all the great stories to Sophie and "the new guy" on the way. (Like...how my mom was afraid of roaming charges, but she just could not stand still when talking on the phone. Or how she ALWAYS bought a coffee cup at a garage sale -- never drank coffee in her life, but didn't want the strangers to think that she didn't like their stuff). That's funny, funny stuff...and the spirit never dies.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Sophie and Laney sat right up front and listened very carefully to Nurse Blair's lesson (which started with Mom's disappearing lap and touched on belly buttons, soft spots, crying babies, and frequent handwashing).
The kids practiced putting on diapers, and Sophie was a pro!
See Baby Tom's fresh diaper and brand new hospital hat?
After a tour of the hospital and nursery, the girls tore into their Big Sister Survivor Packs, which included lolipops, stickers, visors, and extra practice diapers.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Funny things she has said lately...
On a windy day: "Look, Momma. Those trees are dancing! They like to shake it, shake it, shake it."
With Frank, driving behind a pick-up truck painted with a Southwestern motif of Indian mother and corn: "Oh yeah...I painted that." And then later, pretending to talk to her Dad on the phone, "Oh shuuuuure...I could paint you truck for you."
Leaving the house every morning, right after I tell Callie to be a good dog or to have a good day: "Have a GOOD DOG, Callie!" (And she grabs the dog's face to emphasize her point.)
And overheard last night..."I not having a baby sister. JUST a baby brother. That's okay."
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
On Saturday, Sophie got frustrated with her hair because it kept covering up the rainbow face paint she procured at the Farmy Market. So we added a haircut to our list of errands...
And here's the updated look. Slightly shorter, a "dusting" of bangs, but still requiring barettes or piggie tail holders to be totally out of her face. Ain't she purty?