Monthly Archives: September 2012
Well, that was exciting.
I came downstairs to grab a snack, and while I was in the bathroom (because, of course, that is my first stop after a flight of stairs) I heard Nimitz scratching at the basket we keep the shoes in. I yelled at her, which usually works, but not this time. When I got into the hall, she was staked out in front of the basket, clawing at it, and snapping at her didn’t help. So I picked up the basket.
And out scurried a lizard.
Now, I totally should have gotten a photo of this, but I had two options:
1) deal with the fury-crazed cat, panicked lizard, and my front hallway or
2) photograph the lizard.
So I called Ben, obviously, as Nimitz chased the poor little formerly-blue-tailed skink around the bathroom floor. Fortunately for the skink, Nimitz has lost the killer instinct, so she would give it a little claw-free tap, watch it skitter away, then tap it again. She managed to get it towards the front door, where I picked her up, opened the door, and tried to let it out. She started squirming like crazy, so I tossed her in the bathroom and shut the door (easier said than done), then opened the storm door for the lizard, where it finally slipped out. I let Nimitz out of the bathroom, where we looked at the poor little thing as it sat by the door mat, its little sides heaving.
Look, I know the skink is probably just going to get eaten by one of the many neighborhood outdoor cats. I get it, really I do. My mom’s cats are indoor/outdoor, and not only have I heard all about the things they bring home, I’ve helped Mom rescue a couple. I totally get that cats are the ultimate killing machine, that lizards are lower on the food chain and often eaten by predators. That the animal kingdom is full of tiny creatures dying every day.
Just not in my front hallway, okay?
Products from our registry clean-up have started to arrive, like the car seat. That’s probably the most monumental item, although not the only one. It really does make me look at the living room and think, “Holy crap. We’re actually going to have a baby.” We also got a second-hand bouncer from a friend of mine that makes me feel similarly, although I’ve researched the car seat enough that I think that hit harder.
I probably am going to start posting less over here. I feel like I don’t have a whole lot to say that’s new. Most of what’s going on is a variation on a theme: My [everything] hurts, and I’m tired of people telling me “it’ll be over soon”. If you went to the doctor and said you couldn’t eat, sleep, drink water, or stay out of the bathroom and you have aches where you didn’t even realize you had body parts, and they told you, “Well, it’ll all clear up in about a month”, you wouldn’t find it very reassuring. You’d probably want to stab the fifteenth person who told you that.
I promise I won’t stab you. Just please stop telling me “It’s almost over”. It doesn’t help. It just makes me cranky.
This week’s big project has been clearing out the closet so we can turn the Office Closet into an Office/Baby Closet. We’ve unearthed tons of stuff, including a bunch of holiday gifts from last year that never got mailed. Let this be a lesson to you all: if you want a present from us, don’t live far away. Also, the step-sibs will probably be getting some amazingly good gifts this year, as they will be a combo of last year and this year. In fact, we will probably transform them into Megan’s Awesome Care Packs.
(For those of you who have received one of Megan’s Awesome Care Packs, you know what that means. For all the rest of you slobs, allow me to explain: it starts with a box full of a few things that are awesome. And then more awesome things get added in. And more. Until the box is nearly bursting. And then, we write up an inventory. But you know, since this is coming from me, that the inventory bears little resemblance to your standard list. Oh no. The inventory includes full descriptions of the items, the reason for their purchase, and suggestions for use. With my signature sassiness. These Care Packs are the envy of all who have not received one.)
I think the biggest thing that came out of the closet clean up was a sense of how imminent this all is. We started figuring we’d knock the whole thing out in a couple hours. A day and a half later, the entire house was covered in the contents of the closet, the office was unusable, and we both realized Just How Much Junk we’ve already managed to accumulate. We’re back on the upswing now — more things are getting cleaner than are getting cluttered. I think we’ve each purged about two-thirds of our college papers (do I *really* need to keep my terrible paper on the ethnography of a PA diner from my Communications class?), winnowing down to only the most important ones (Megan’s acting journals from Acting 101? Oh yeah, those are interesting).
We’re also finally getting all the pictures up on walls. That’s only taken a year and a half of living here to finish. It never ceases to amaze me how much a couple picture frames liven up a room, though. The bedroom is almost ready — one more box to go through, then adding the waterproof pad onto the bed. Otherwise, the floors are clear, and the birthing tub is in a corner, ready to be set up when it’s needed. The living room is covered in all the things we don’t know what else to do with, so that’s the next project. The office is still a disaster, but it’s definitely closer.
Emotionally and physically, I am very ready to Not Be Pregnant. I can definitely feel things changing — crampiness that Erin says is my cervix moving around and prepping, digestive nonsense as my stomach prepares, Braxton-Hicks (Erin finally was able to give us a definition that made sense, so now I know when those are happening, too). People talk about the baby “dropping”; Sprout is in proper position, but she never “dropped” because she forgot to lift up during the second trimester. So now… we wait.