Alan and I ordered the crib and bureau last week. They should be here in 8-10 weeks. The crib turns into a full sized bed. We also ordered this swivel glider with ottoman. The fabric is called Celery, but I prefer to call it chartreuse because I think that description will make my mom cringe the most! heheeee! She looooves greeeeeeen!
I found this fabric:
To make this crib skirt. We're not gong to have bumpers unless baby starts getting his legs stuck in the bars. If that happens then we'll rethink our decision and probably get some breathable bumpers. Or we'll tie Wal-mart sacks to the bars. That's safe, right?
Friends were over a couple of days after my birthday and look what they brought.
This cake is two cupcakes under the fluffiest mound of frosting hair. Kim helped me eat as much as she could stand. I ate as much as she could stand plus about 2/3rds more. Sadly, some of the cake had to go to waste. I couldn't eat the face. I just couldn't.
This cake was made by Carroll and consisted of yellow cake with a layer of chocolate sauce, strawberries and whip cream. It is one of my very favorites! And wouldn't you know it I forgot to take a couple of slices home with me for later. I was kicking myself at breakfast the next day.
My mother-in-law's cake was the cake I regret grabbing a couple of extra slices of the very most. It was chocolate fudge with fudge frosting, rolled in fudge topped with fudge sprinkles. In my state of utter awe, I completely forgot to take a picture of it. It was so pretty it was almost hypnotizing.
Alan got me an assortment of desserts for my birthday. I love him the very most because he couldn't choose just one. No picture of those either. They were gone too quick.
Some truths that have been pointed out to me, about me:
1. If I don't eat at regular intervals, I get cranky. Some call it possessed or demon-like. Bah, I choose to call it sensitive.
2. It is never good if I call you Doodlebug. When confronting someone who has hurt or angered me or made me cry, I apparently call that person Doodlebug . It's a subconscious thing and I never noticed I did this until Missa pointed it out.
3. I disappear if I don't feel good. Poof! If no one hears from me for a while, the people who love me most come searching.
Well I hadn't been feeling good, which explains the week long lapse in blogging. I had heartburn so bad I couldn't sleep. For the last week I'd been up at 4 o'clock because I just couldn't lay in bed without hurting. Of course sitting up hurt too, so that left me with, well, nothing. Today was the last straw. My heartburn was so bad it made me throw up. Repeatedly. Gross.
Alan went to the store tonight and got me Pepcid ac. That stuff is a miracle drug. Except for the sleepwalking to the bathroom, I think I'll be able to sleep tonight.
For the last 20 weeks I haven't been sure how keen I was on having a boy. I don't know how to work a boy. Girls I know. They like dolls and pink and flowers and stuff. Boys? I just couldn't think what a boy would like.
As soon as we found out yesterday that we are having a boy, I just KNEW what a fun time I have in store for me.
We will go for walks and look under rocks for bugs. On our walks, we will save earth worms that have washed onto sidewalks and into gutters. And we will learn how to hop over cracks. We will learn which tree fungus is safe to touch. And we will learn that tree fungus may look soft, but it's not. And we will probably learn that it doesn't taste very good, either.
We will learn what the different toots of a train mean.
We will play soccer in the yard. And we will go to the botanic gardens and run and run and run. After we run and run we will sit and have a picnic of marshmallow sandwiches and carrot sticks.
We will go to the antique store and get old things, like telephones and radios, and my little boy will be able take all of the old things apart with his very own screwdriver.
And even better, Alan and I started thinking of all of the things we get to avoid by having a boy. Things like menstrual cycles and a boyfriend with a chainsaw earring. We get to buy jeans at Sears and return them if they get a hole in the knee before he grows out of them. And at 14 clothing won't be the drama that it is for 14 yr old girls.
And the best part? He will like me! Boys usually like their mommy's even when they are teenagers! (Alan's best part is he can teach Baby Christensen how to mow. Nothing like reverting to the 1900's when children were born to be farm hands.)
I know that most of that stuff will have to wait a few years. During that wait I will get to snuggle and love on a sweet - and sometimes stinky - little angel that I will be lucky enough to have in my life.
I am so excited. If Alan had a blog he would tell you how excited he is too.
A good friend recommended we try to have the washer repaired before buying a new one. (Thanks James)
Repair Guy came and diagnosed that the timer needs to be replaced. He said he would call with the estimate for the part. I explained to him that if the part costs more than $200 I get a new washer, and then I bribed Repair Guy with cookies. Alan laughed at me the whole time, even after I explained that the whole Cookie Bribe Caper would be more effective if he would leave the room for a little bit.
And he just kept laughing...
Just in case you thought I was kidding about bribing Repair Guy:
According to Repair Guy the washer was not manufactured by OAF (Old as F***) as I previously thought. It is a GE Model # WCSR2070TCWW.
As for the dryer, Repair Guy moved it about 4 inches farther from the wall and said that the vent hose was kinked and no wonder it was drying the same temp on all settings. We're probably lucky there wasn't a fire.
Now the good news! Everyone who comes to visit will soon be guaranteed a very clean towel! (Make anyone else wonder what they were getting before??? heeeheheeeee)
That's the response I gave last night when the emergency vet nurse asked why we brought Grace in.
She was sitting on my lap when I leaned over to get something off the floor. She cried this little whimpery cry, not like her very loud "Ow, Ow, Quit pulling my hair!" cry. When she walked her little back looked like the London Bridge.
It was a little embarrassing though, when the doctor asked what else indicated to us that she was in pain, I had to answer that she didn't jump on us obnoxiously when we got home, she didn't beg for food during dinner and she didn't bark at the dog commercial on TV.
Our little Grace was behaving like a well trained dog and something was obviously wrong.
The doctor poked her, wiggled her legs around, squeezed her and listened to her tummy, heart and lungs. He then pronounced her sore but not injured and suggested I not squish her anymore. A shot of aspirin and $120 later she is almost back to normal.
I just have to remember that my tummy pokes out much more than normal. It's a puppy hazard.