A staple around our house since I’ve been pregnant (which seems like an eternity, yo) happens to be donuts. Most frequently it’s Krispy Kreme, but making the occasional debut are the Enteman’s Chocolate (ahem, PLASTIC) Covered and the sometimes seen Dunkin’ Donuts. We go through about a dozen or so a week nowadays, which seems like a lot, especially considering they’re only passing down one gullet. And, surprise, surprise it’s not mine!
Have I mentioned that The Daver is pregnant, too?
Well, he is. Come on, you know you saw that one coming, especially if you’d heard of Couvade Syndrome before. And shit, he’d probably be carrying this baby to term if he could. He’s just that kind of good guy.
Although some women might be slightly irritated by this phenomenon, I find it somewhat sweet. I mean, if he’s ingesting 12 donuts a week, he can’t exactly raise TOO much of a stink about the McDonald’s caramel sundaes that seem to call my name at odd hours of the day.
He now also shares my irrationally premature nesting instincts.
Over Christmas, he took an unheard of 5 days of vacation time. For Dave (and any of you workaholics out there) this is a huge, huge thing. I had grown extremely accustomed (if not a little bitter) to not seeing my husband during the week, and only seeing him on certain weekends when the moon is full and blue and round. Maybe not precisely how I envisioned my marriage, but then again, I had always envisioned having a wall covered entirely in Velcro, making Velcro suits, and throwing myself against said wall occasionally. What can I say? Fantasy does not always = reality.
And over those 5 days, I got a real glimpse of what having him around all the time would be like. In a word: exhausting. He undertook more house projects in a short amount of time than I have ever seen anyone do, ever, which is a welcome change for us, albeit a bit exhausting.
When we moved here last February, having just been bent over and ass-fucked by the condo fiasco, we didn’t have a whole ton of extra money to throw around to improve this house. We made do with what we had, and in doing so, we completely turned 3 areas in the house into the ‘we just throw crap here’ rooms and shut the door to them.
The Baby’s Room. Painted a sickly shade of pink, we contemplated for 3.5 seconds about making it into a guest room. Which made so little sense as to be absurd: we wanted a baby not house guests. The room then became the ‘cat room.’
Before you start assuming that we have indeed turned into ‘those crazy cat people,’ let me remind you that we foster cats for a local adoption organization. They are not our cats. They will NOT be our cats (no matter WHAT Ben thinks). But for them, it beats the fcuk out of living in a cage.
Once we discovered that I was, indeed, sperminated, the room was painted and the cats were (mostly) evacuated to another part of the house. Then the room became mecca for all of the baby crap that we began to accumulate. Boxes of Ben’s old clothes, a Moses basket, some hand-me-downs from Vacation Wife, and the new baby furniture was all unceremoniously tossed into the room and the door closed.
Although I may be premature in some cases, I do happen to know that sometimes pregnancies have a way of not working out, and wasn”t really willing to start to create a real nursery until the age of viability was reached (i.e. 24 weeks).
Operation Sort-Through-Crap is now partially completed. Goodwill should be having a field day with all of the stuff I’m giving up. Now things just need to be put together so it can actually be an operational room.
The Basement. Going from being squashed into a small condo on the third floor with minimal (I’m being generous here) storage into having a house with three floors can make a person a bit lazy. The laundry room in our basement was quickly turned into crap depository #2. Anything that didn’t go directly into another area was dumped here, never to be seen again.
Over the break, Dave bought, assembled and organized shelves and effectively moved about 90% of the crap off of the floor and into some semblance of organization. Now I just have to go through and throw shit away. I’d have a garage sale if I wasn’t so fucking afraid of them.
Ben’s Playroom, i.e. The Room Off The Kitchen. An initially great idea (‘Hey, let’s put all of Ben’s stuff into this one area, so he can play there!’) turned into ‘Wow! No one ever goes into that room. What a waste of space!’
Dave and Ben dutifully lugged toy after toy into Ben’s room until we were left with a vacant-except-for-the-white-aluminum-Christmas-tree room. I had been contemplating making this an all-seasons tree (change the lights for each holiday!!) or some shit just to leave the room with SOMETHING in it, when the idea of making this a den was raised.
On Monday, off to Addison we trekked to get another insanely large television because The Daver MUST have large televisions and back to Naperville we trudged to pick out another set of couches. Today the couches were delivered, and the room.looks.so.weird.all.furnished.and.shit. All that’s left to do in there is some painting and to mount the TV on the wall. Yes, the TV is a flat panel one. No, I don’t know why.
(I cannot believe I’m going to say this here, now)
I should be pregnant more often, dammit! Eventually the whole house would be decorated, organized and furnished.
I don’t know if I told you guys this, but in about 2 months, I am having a second baby.
Holy pajamas, batman.
I mean, if anyone was planned, it was this baby, let’s be honest here, but for some reason it has only recently begun to sink in that I will shortly be pushing crotch parasite #2 out of my cooter. And I couldn’t be more thrilled about it.
Aside from one niggling detail. At age 26, I will have 2 children. ChildREN. Like the transition from preschooler to kindergartner, for some reason this change feels huger than huge. Massive. Suddenly, in my mind’s eye I go from looking chic and trendy (let me dream, people) to wearing mom jeans with white keds. And have a muffin top. I DON’T WANT TO WEAR SENSIBLE SHOES AND SHOP AT KOHLS!!
So, immediately I decide that I must change something. But what?
The first thing that pops into my addled (but very typical female) mind is to dye my hair, which is my natural color for the first time in I don’t know how long. I envisioned a kind of punk rock hairdo in a funky style. Scratch that, dude. When I am NOT pregnant and/or nursing a boobfruit, I suck at dying my hair. I don’t imagine I’ll be ‘doing’ my hair daily for the next several months. When I do, I will reward myself with a rockin’ dye job, done by someone other than my husband. Oh yes, ladies, he does hair too.
The second thing that pops into my head is to get another tattoo. Now, before I got pregnant with this one, my late birthday present for myself was going to be a new tattoo. As it turned out, turning 26 made for a sweet-assed union between the sperm and egg. If I can’t eat hot dogs, I certainly cannot get ink. Especially since I have a horrible reaction to the red dye and would be unable to medicate myself properly.
So I resolved to get the tattoo. But of what? And where? This is where my inability to be creative is highlighted: I have two tattoos. One on either foot. Both mean something extremely personal, and the last one came from an exact QUOTE from a conversation that I had with a friend. It’s not rocket science, my brain.
And this is where I turn to you, dear Internet. You see, I need your help. What else can I possibly do to stave off the inevitable mom-ness that will come with this baby?
P.S. I was completely unable to find a diaper bag with a skull and crossbones on it. I settled for having to make my own. It’s sassy as fcuk.
1. What did you do in 2006 that you’d never done before?
Juggled two mortgages. Eventually sold House #1.
And no, we are not moving in 2007. Not if I can help it. Unlike my husband, I am not a nomad.
2. Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I have never really made a resolution for New Years. Not because I don’t believe in resolutions themselves, but because I can never think of something that I will be sure that I will do in the new year. And I don’t want to feel guilty for not completing them later on. I have enough guilt.
I didn’t resolve to, but I quit smoking this year. Next year, I’m sure I’ll resolve to lose the baby weight. But I won’t resolve to do it on January 1.
3. What would you like to have in 2007 that you lacked in 2006?
A second son. And a million dollars. Because, really, how else can I paper a room with dollar bills or get a Grill?
4. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Maintaining my sanity (stop laughing).
5. What was the best thing you bought?
My bumble-bee house. I freaking love my house.
6. Whose behavior merited celebration?
Daver’s. He has not killed me yet. He is also 99% of the reason that I have maintained my sanity.
Benner’s. He has made my life eversomuch better every single second of every single day. Mushy? Maybe. True? Absolutely.
7. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
8. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
My ultrasound. Finding out that I am having a healthy baby boy.
Moving the fcuk back outta my parents house (we moved there in January for a month while we waited to close on our house). Sweet Jesus. That was awful.
Getting over (mostly) hyperemesis gravidarum.
9. What song will always remind you of 2006?
Slow Down Baby.
10. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or sadder? Happier
ii. thinner or fatter? Fatter: But I do have a parasite now.
iii. richer or poorer? Richer.
11. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Stopping to smell the flowers.
12. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Worrying about things I cannot control.
13. What was your favorite TV program?
Law and Order: Criminal Intent. My husband, Vincent D’Onofrio is super-sexxy, even if y’all are haters.
14. What was the best book you read?
The Curious Incident of the Dog and the Nighttime.
15. What was your greatest musical discovery?
By far the best album I bought this year was “Back to Basics.”
16. What was your favorite film of this year?
I’m really not much of a movie person. I rarely see movies in the theater. Of the three I saw this year, the best was:
17. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I had a nice BBQ with some good girlfriends that I haven’t seen much since. I miss them.
I got wasted on Cosmos and champagne.
Then I got pregnant. So, I got a Hot Beef Injection for my birthday. BOO-YEAH.
18. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Eschewing the horrible habit that I picked up from my husband: worrying about things over which you have no control. I have since stopped. It’s neither fulfilling nor does it help.
19. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2004?
Pregnant and itchy?
20. What kept you sane?
21. What political issue stirred you the most?
To wear underwear or to freeball it?
22. Who was the best new person you met?
I didn’t meet anyone interesting this year. At least, not that I can remember.
23. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2006:
“Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t.”
24. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
“Everybody’s talkin’ all this stuff about me, why don’t they just let me live? I don’t need permission, make my own decisions, that’s my prerogative”