Week 34, Day 1
Unless you’re Dr. Binka-Binka, taking measurements of Little Dude, in which case this could very well be considered Week 35, Day 1, because Little Dude is running a week ahead of size. Which is fine and dandy with Dr. Binka-Binka, who used the word “perfect” and then used the word “awesome” when looking over all the measurements and images.
Regardless of whether we have five or six weeks to go, we’re definitely in the home stretch…
* Childbirth classes have started (oy, the films, and ours are still on VHS, though perhaps I am happy not to have them in HD) and we’re now set to see my regular OB every Monday and Dr. Binka-Binka every Friday until Little Dude’s arrival.
* Michael just finished the last of the trim painting in the nursery last night, after a couple of weeks where each thing he needed to do in there led to unpleasant surprises with old construction and the need for repairs and new projects, and we picked up the last of the furniture Saturday (a vintage ChildCraft dresser/changing table from Craigslist for $45, but the nursery-decor post comes later).
* Little Dude’s Gram (my mom) has come to visit for a week and so far has helped me sort through and organize all the baby clothes, made a huge pot of chicken soup because I’ve been so upper-respiratory-cruddy, schlepped to several different stores and hardware big-boxes in search of furniture and paint, taped and dropclothed and primed Michael’s whole bathroom (with painting on her agenda today), plus baked her famously wonderful chocolate chip cookies and generally worked hard to spoil us a little bit rotten.
* I can’t paint or lift or climb or bend a lot, so I’ve been putting things together like the Stokke stroller and the cow-print car seat and the little white footstool for the nursery, and folding laundry, and inventorying Little Dude’s books, all while snotting through Kleenex at a rate of about 12-15 an hour and peeing a little every time I try to hack the crud out of my lungs and not sleeping because I can’t breathe and am choking on disgusting phlegm and not napping because meanwhile our handy-guys are finishing the drywall in the laundry room and jackhammering out big hunks of concrete that once were steps from the garage to the laundry room and now are steps to a wall because their hard work means we now have a way to get to the laundry room through the house, which is more exciting than maybe it should be.
(If you haven’t started your own little private count of run-on sentences in my blog posts, that one gives you a good place to start.)
What apparently should be coming next, according to the Parenting.com Babygram e-mail that pops into my inbox every week, is that I should have a bag packed and ready to go. Really? Already? And what do I really need to take to the hospital? They’re recommending things like “hard candies” (which I don’t really dig in non-labor life) and “reading materials” (as if my attention will be held by anything more challenging than US magazine’s in-depth report, “Sandra and Ryan, IT’S ON!”), and they say don’t bring my contacts? Seriously? Doesn’t that conflict with their slotting “makeup” pretty high up that list? Apparently I could also buy a special “delivery gown” that will keep me more comfortable and, more importantly, way more stylish than the standard-issue hospital rag and yet, at $42, is inexpensive enough to just throw away when we’re all done. Hair ties seem to be a key item.
So, in today’s installment of I’m Soliciting Your Advice On This Topic So You Don’t Feel Like You Can’t Give It Even Though You Know You Want To And Besides I Really Want It, what did my mom friends take to the hospital that was ridiculous and hardly even came out of the bag, and what didn’t you take that you wish you had, and what did you have that was just The Perfect Thing? Because whether this winds up being thirtysomething hours of progressing through the childbirth class charts like a good little A student or a sudden C-section, I have a feeling there will be a little time spent waiting for something to happen, and not all of it will be comfortable, and you can probably give me some ideas for dealing with it.
Coming soon… the big nursery reveal… more gushing over the Saab sportscar of strollers… kvetching about IKEA’s inventory-control and -availability system… brunching with the baby bump and two dozen good Austin friends, if Little Dude waits that long… and maybe even The Unveiling Of The Name, assuming we take the choice from two to one in the meantime.
This edition of “Forty Weeks” would not have been possible without my SC09-swag Philips earbuds and the delightful mix put together at “Spare the Rock,” a dad-and-daughter kids’ music broadcast out of New England, which managed to keep the roar of the jackhammer (mostly) out of my brain.