Another Meme-Based Statement...

If I were a conspiracy theorist, I'd say that the driving instruction companies and the DVLA were in it together. The DVLA makes the test so insanely pedantic that you can't pass without heaps of instruction. (Remember how I said that the national pass-rate is 42% for the first time you take the practical?) Then, the driving companies have cay-razy hourly rates that they charge if you want to be taught by someone certified, and not the stubbly guy driving a Cinquacento who can "hook you up" for £10 an hour...if you stick to the back roads where there are no cops. Perhaps a percentage of these heinous fees subsidize some underground scheme the DVLA have going on, like euthanizing people with a certain number of points on their licence, or engineering a race of humans with arms so short they must steer the car by shuffling the wheel around in their tiny hands. (No crossed hands or pimping it out with one hand at 12 o'clock on the wheel any more when this selective breeding program goes public!)

Anyway, now that I'm faced with another nickle-and-dime campaign by the British government (remember the extortionate visa fees?) and the UK's various and sundry companies, I have only one question for the AA (who lured me in with promises of cheap driving lessons...scoundrels!); and that question is this:

Perhaps to restore balance to the universe I should build a shelter for starving, disease-ridden, orphaned child-soldiers...who are amputees...from Somalia...with terminal cancer...who always wanted to visit Disneyland...and ride unicorns...

I should stop there. If my list of qualifications for my orphan friends gets any longer, I'll have to balance the universe again by training a puppy to shoot a kitten in the face. Or by letting a Tea Party vitriolist into the White House. Those sorts of abominable evils might just weight the scales against my wonderful unicorn riding school for Somali orphans...which was initially meant to counter the rape-and-pillage mentality of the secret AA/DVLA driving tuition fees cabal. A little sardonic and irreverent humour is always just what the doctor ordered. (And of course, by a little, I mean a homeopathic amount. Which, as we all know, increases in effectiveness the less of it you have. Which is really why I'll quit while I'm ahead.)

More Baby Appointments

Just went down the street today to take my GTT: glucose tolerance test. This particular form of mild torture involves no food for about 12 hours (good thing most of those were spent asleep!) followed at the end by drinking a revolting lumpy mixture of lemon-flavoured glucose powder "dissolved" in water. The air quotes were totally necessary, as Seb and I probably spent a combined 10 minutes just trying to crush and stir all the lumps out of this disgusting cocktail. Oh, and there's a huge glass-full of the stuff as well, so it's not really possible to down it all in one chug. Even if it were, you're technically not allowed to treat it like shotgunning a beer because you're supposed to take 5 minutes to get down to the dregs.

If anything I've had to do for this baby was designed to make me want to vomit, the GTT was it. Even though nothing else besides water was allowed for the duration of the test, that glass full of evil I had to drink left my stomach feeling uncomfortably full and decidedly unhappy with me. Of course, Piggly Wiggly's latest instalment of the Baby Dance Party wasn't helping my stomach to settle much in the first place.

Then, it was just down the street to the children's centre/community midwives clinic to fill out some paperwork and have some blood drawn. The whole process of my visit took a sum total of 15 minutes. Not that I'm a fan of unnecessary waiting around, but I would have liked the whole thing to feel a bit more substantial after spending more time than that just getting the glucose solution mixed and swallowed.

Ah well, at least this means that the countdown is ready to begin as we round the corner into my 28th week of pregnancy. Now it'll be a flurry of midwife appointments, antenatal classes, and Braxton-Hicks contractions until the bebe is ready to make his or her appearance in the world. Of course, if Baby could wait...oh, say 7 weeks, until Austin's wedding and my driving test have passed, then I'd be thoroughly pleased. After those two hurdles are over, my obstinate offspring is free to do as it pleases...well, excepting the possibility of being born in November. Mama just ain't gonna have that nonsense. ;)

Driving (Me Crazy) Around Town

So, I've officially started the dreaded driving lessons today. Have I mentioned how much I disdainfully wrinkle my nose at the UK driving system? Thank goodness that once I passed this stupid practical test I won't have to take it again or renew my licence until I'm too old to see properly.

In all fairness, my driving instructor's not a bad guy. A bit quiet, and definitely makes a point of telling you when you do something that would fail your exam, but not a bad guy. I mean, he could go a lot harder on the tough love routine, and being clear about what you need to fix in order to pass is a good thing, but he still gives off a little bit of a stand-off-ish vibe. Perhaps it's the whole "stiff upper lip" nonsense. From that statement, don't assume he sounds like a Miss Marple extra or Winston Churchill; but he's just a quiet and reserved kind of guy...in spite of (only kind of) joking about how he'll start to yell "FAIL!" at me if I do something that would automatically cost me my passing mark on the exam.

No, it's not my driving instructor that I complain about (at least...not yet, and let's hope, not ever): it's the whole system. My fellow Americans, you don't realize how well you've got it! Holy crap; in any state I've lived in, our practical driving test is ten times easier than the palaver I've been told I have to perform and the hoops I have to jump through just to get my licence over here. I knew that as an experienced driver, I'd have a few bad habits to unlearn, but I swear it would have been easier to just erase most of my driving experience from my memory! No cross hands, no crossing the centre of the steering wheel with your arms, check your mirrors before applying the breaks, have the car in gear before you check the mirrors before you signal before you check the mirrors again before you drive off into the sunset. Even when I was first taught the mechanics of driving a manual, I've never had to remember so much at one time to drive successfully. Thank goodness this test comes up in 7 weeks or else I'd probably stab poor Neil the Driving Instructor in a fit of legal insanity. And let's face it: I do not need to be on some TV show trying to raise my baby from behind bars. That's just not cool.

Did you know the ridiculously daunting statistic that, over here, only 42% of people will pass their practical driving test the first time? 42%!!!! (Yes Lynn Truss, I've abused that exclamation point; mea culpa, mea culpa.) I swear you would have had to try to fail the exam I took in Maryland. I even had the option of taking the test on the DMV track...with no other cars around. They couldn't make it any easier if they just handed me the licence when I turned 16. That said; I don't feel that the test was really too easy. In point of fact, I've seen no benefit to the more stringent testing done here in the UK. While some of it may be needed since there are loads more steep inclines in suburban areas, tiny one-lane country roads, and 2-lane roads that most Americans would shudder to think that opposing lanes of traffic drive down, I guarantee that most of it is an exercise in pedantry. And let me tell you, whatever muscles get exercised when you're being uselessly pedantic, the DVLA must be pretty hench, because you'd think Useless-Pedantry was their middle name.

Le sigh. If only London had been cheap enough to live there until we moved. Then, I'd never have to drive anywhere in this country, and by the time I *did* have to drive, I'd just have to renew my expired Utah licence and change it to whatever state we set up residence in. Oh America, how I miss your comparatively lax driving standards. I miss your simplistic testing and lack of roundabouts. Though I must admit, America, I have gotten used to driving on the wrong side of the road. It just feels normal now!

In the meantime, I'll be practising looking in the mirrors before I do anything...probably to the point where I develop a rapid eye twitch, which people will assume means that I'm mentally unbalanced. And if poor Neil the Driving Instructor yells out "FAIL!" one too many times, I just might actually become mentally unbalanced...

Who's the Real Brat Here, Anyway?

It's social commentary time again, folks. After a breeze through my blog feeds this morning, I linked through Young House Love onto the Momformation Blog at BabyCenter. It was this article on child-hating adults that caught my eye. Aiming to really get at both sides of the debate, I went and found the CNN article on permissive parents that the blogger links to. (Incidentally, she links to a drastically shortened version of the article I found.)

The comments were interesting, with people on both sides of the divide both railing against the entitled whinging of this guy on CNN and praising his no-nonsense stance on out-of-control kids. So which is it? Does he simply not understand the challenges of parenting in this day and age? Or is he taking a stand against parents who just don't know how to be parents? Are you ready for my $0.02? I think it's the latter. I back Mr. Granderson and his CNN-publicized stance.

This does not mean that children should be "seen and not heard" - personally, I think that's the biggest load of baloney I've heard since discovering that homeopathy is basically over-priced water. Kids will be kids, and I know that I, for one, wasn't the least rambunctious kid on the block in my day. But I knew that when my mom told me to sit down and be quiet, that I needed to listen to her. Not on any threat of violence, but because Mom was someone you listened to. When you didn't listen...or worse, wilfully disobeyed, privileges were taken away, Mom got upset, and the rest of the day was a pretty rotten one. Plus, as I got older I realised that even though I didn't always agree with my mom, if she was telling me to do something or not to do something, there was usually a reason behind it. It wasn't ever a case of, "Well, I'm the adult and I say so." (For the record, that's the most crap logic ever. If you want your kids to lose whatever respect for your authority they had, by all means, try using this argument sometime.)

But back to these little hellions and their detractors. To hate kids just because they aren't miniature adults is, I agree, bratty behaviour and indicative of a lack of understanding and coping mechanisms. But, when insisting, as Granderson does, that parents need to step up to the plate and teach their children how to behave in society, that has nothing to do with feeling entitled or being a brat. No child will receive any long-term benefit from constantly being allowed to do exactly as they like with no consequence for petulant, dangerous, or inappropriate behaviour. All it teaches them is that their actions have no consequences, which is a dangerous lesson to learn before being unleashed on society. Other people won't be as kind as your parents, most of the time.

Yes, parents have a duty to protect their kids from the dangers of the world. But those dangers aren't things like disappointment at not getting your own way or mild physical discomfort. The things parents should protect against are physical and emotional harm or abuse, unnecessary injury due to negligence, undue cruelty, or other detrimental influences. Everyone will be disappointed in this life. You won't get into every college you apply for, you won't escape a broken heart, you won't always get the promotion you deserve. The world is a tough and unfair place, and while we should strive to make it as fair and just as is humanly possible, there's no use in pretending that injustice, disappointment, death, and pain don't exist. To pretend those things will only set kids up for bigger disappointment and depression further down the line. And in the meantime, they're likely to become entitled individuals who take no responsibility for their own actions. And those sorts of people do no one any good.

Let's just take a look for a minute at some of the things both articles say (with my necessary commentary).

...The latest Census reports have been showing that in all ways, there are fewer kids in our society these days. Fewer people have them, and those who do, have fewer. Around the turn of the century, kids made up 40 percent of our society. Now? Twenty. Almost 46 percent of women between the ages of 15 and 44 do not have children, up from 35 percent in 1976. So you would think that kids would be bothering people less than ever before.

But somehow no. And I think it’s because the distinct lack of children, particularly in the urban areas from which much of media comes from, makes (some) adults as self-centered as any child. Just look at Granderson’s word choice. “Children are wonderful but they are not the center of the universe. The sooner their parents make them understand that, the better off we all will be.” Riiiiight. So who’s at the center of the universe? Sounds like widdle LZ Gwanderson is! I want my restaurants the way I want them! I want my flights the way I want them! And I want it noooooooow! Or I’m going to kick and scream and throw a big ugly opinion page tantrum! (Maybe it's just me, but I don't see his article as a temper tantrum. It's a rant, sure, but he says that we shouldn't demonize restaurants, cruises, or other services that choose to cater to the 18+ crowd only. Besides, if you want to or have to take your 4-year-old everywhere when you go out; no one's forcing you to patronize the restaurant that doesn't allow small kids. And as for the flights he mentioned one airline that doesn't allow infants - not all children, but just tiny ones - on one section of some of their flights. That hardly seems out-of-control to me.)

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no fan of children running freely in restaurants; not the least because it’s incredibly dangerous (tray piled high + person below sight line = head injury). But kids are kids, and sometimes, they are going to make noise! (Let's be honest; his complaint is more than "kids being kids". It's kids refusing to listen and act in an appropriate manner in public to the best of their ability for their age. And the bigger complaint isn't even about the kids, it's about parents who refuse to help their children correct this behaviour so that everyone can rub along comfortably.) And sometimes, that noise is not going to be particularly convenient for you! But we’re all people living together, and we’ve got to all bend a little and let things go. Relax. Stop staring at other people and noting their infractions.

Tell you what. I promise to not take a passel of kids to your four-star wineglass and tablecloth restaurant on Date Night if you promise not to send me the freezing look of disdain when my child dares make a noise above library decibel-level in a pizza joint. (Once again, a straw man argument. The point was never that children shouldn't be allowed in public ever, it was that more and more parents can't or won't teach their kids the necessary skills to be okay in public without running wild. Babies cry and small kids have fits now and then, but to accept bad behaviour as an unchangeable norm is lazy parenting.) You lower your expectations of perfectly modulated adult voices at all times, and I’ll raise my kid to be thoughtful and polite. Because as a parent, that’s what I want. Not just because you’re shooting me the evil eye.

Now, Mr. Granderson on CNN:

Children are wonderful but they are not the center of the universe. The sooner their parents make them understand that, the better off we all will be. (Okay, that could have been worded better, but yeah: everyone has to take a turn and make some sacrifices in order to get along. Fair point.)

This is the part of child-rearing people don't like to discuss, because socially, it's not OK to dislike kids. The ugly truth is it's the spineless parents who parade their undisciplined children around like royalty that make people dislike kids.

Parents who expect complete strangers to just deal with it are not doing anyone, including their children, any favors. They are actually making things worse. Not only are their children allowed to interrupt social events and settings when they are young, but they often grow into disruptive forces in the classrooms later. And nobody likes them for that.

I covered education for years and one of the biggest complaints from teachers was about the amount of time they spent disciplining students. Their threats were empty because parents sided with their kids. And, of course, the use of corporal punishment in the classroom is seriously frowned upon, and even punished.

Spanking is not a cure, and should not be the first resort, (thank you. It's not the best solution, but it can be part of one. Most really young kids don't understand "right" vs. "wrong" very well for a while.) but I don't think it should automatically be taken off the table when dealing with small kids. We're so preoccupied with protecting children from disappointment and discomfort that we're inadvertently excusing them from growing up.

A young child slapping his or her parent's hand away in defiance is not cute, it's disrespectful. In my house, growing up, that would have earned much more than "the look" from my mother. (Precisely. This is the kind of behaviour that we're talking about. Not kids being a bit rowdy because their excited or overly tired, but kids being disrespectful and disobedient because they know nothing will be done to make them stop.)

If I sound a bit old-school, I am. If I'm coming across as a bit of an ogre, so be it.

As a parent, I can empathize with how difficult raising children can be. There are challenges, especially within the framework of divorce, when parental guilt can sometimes blur what should be the best decision.

But I don't believe making a child's wishes top priority is a demonstration of love. Nor do I believe I, or the rest of the world, should act as a surrogate parents for somebody's bad-ass kids.

You wanted them, deal with them. (Preach! Sometimes being a good parent means not being your kid's BFF.)

Inspiring Story of the Day

So my faith in humanity is somewhat restored after watching more reality TV. A phrase I never thought I'd utter, I know.

There's a series on the BBC called "Underage and Pregnant". Already, the outlook seems grim. Irresponsible and pregnant teens who don't understand the challenges of motherhood? Nope. At least, not in the episode I watched.

16-year-old Abby lives in the same town as us (I immediately recognised the street where her mom's house is) and at the time of filming for this show had a 7-month-old son named Riley. Not only is Abby staying in school and taking an amazing-sounding 13 GCSEs (and preparing to go to college afterwards!), but her little boy is disabled with a condition called Moebius Syndrome.

I'm doubly impressed by this girl. Not only did having her son make her step up her game and insist upon being able to give that baby the best future she possibly could, but despite the doctors' insistence that he might be severely disabled, she was determined to give her son a chance at life. As it turns out, according to the program, his condition is something he can live with...and not only live with, but have a mostly normal life. I think either of those issues would have been tough enough on its own: either knowing your baby will have serious health challenges or being a teen mom who is committed to stay in school, and this girl tackled both and looks to be a more responsible mom than some women twice her age.

Let's be honest here: no one who gets pregnant for the first time has any idea of what being a mother will be like. No number of friends' babies or nieces and nephews will be enough preparation for having your own kid who is your own responsibility 24 hours a day, every day for the rest of your life. I think, even with the vast number of positive aspects thrown in, if we were able to know that, we'd embark upon parenthood with a whole lot more trepidation!

In the end, my point is that this particular bit of guilty pleasure TV was a nice departure from the norm as far as these sorts of programs go. It's nice to remember that quality TV can centre around people who have their heads on straight and aren't selfish or ridiculously irresponsible. I think it's anecdotal evidence, yet again, that there isn't really anything thrown at us in this life that we can't handle if we just try and know on whom to rely. Get your groove on, responsible teenage mommas!

Lessons on Growing a Tiny Person

Having reached a whopping 26 weeks of pregnancy (I still cringe at the thought that there's about 14 weeks left to go...), I have learned quite a few things about the miracle of life. Being the thoughtful and generous person that I am, I'm going to share those lessons with you.

Lesson number one: having a "bellyful of baby" unfortunately precludes the possibility of having a belly full of anything else. Like dinner, for example. If you try to test this theory I can promise that you will be wildly uncomfortable and feel more stuffed than a Thanksgiving turkey. Your tiny human will not give way, no matter how much you think you can fit just a few more bites of chili into your stomach. The baby doesn't care how tasty it is: anything that impinges upon his space will be treated like the Persians at Thermopylae and met with unyielding resistance.

Lesson number two. This, I confess, is a much nicer lesson. Standard medical advice says that if you're a normal weight when you first discover those two pink lines on a pregnancy test, you should look to gain about 25-35 lbs. during the next 9 months. My first thought was, "you have to be kidding me. The baby only weighs like 7 pounds!!" But then, I found this, and my fears were put to rest...

If you gain about 28 lbs. while you grow a person inside of you, this is about how it should break down by the end:

• 7-8 lbs is the baby
• 1-2 lbs is the placenta
• 2 lbs accounts for the amniotic fluid
• your giant expanding uterus clocks in at 2 lbs.
• Notice those boobs getting bigger? About 2 lbs. of breast tissue is the reason why.
• Your resting heart rate increases to pump another 4 lbs.-worth of blood around your system.
• Swelling and water retention and other fluids in your tissue account for another 4 lbs.
• the last 7lbs. in this example go to maternal fat and nutrient stores

Suddenly, gaining 18.6 lbs. in nearly 7 months doesn't feel so bad. My baby may only be around 2 lbs, but considering everything else, that means only about 2 lbs. of weight gain so far has been not-entirely-baby-related. Champion.

Lesson number three. Learn to get comfortable in bed quickly, because rolling over just became a lot more work than it's worth. The only time I feel like I'm carrying a lead-filled beach ball strapped to my front is when I try to roll from one side to the other in bed. This once easy task just became a whole hell of a lot more difficult thanks to, not just weight gain, but those lovely stretched-out abdominal muscles. Oh abs, I miss you. When the baby comes out, let's be friends again.

Lesson number four. You no longer have privacy. Just forget the meaning of the word, because the right to it no longer applies when the results of your - ahem - extra-curricular activities become public knowledge. All decisions, thoughts, cravings, and bodily functions are suddenly fit topics for discussion. How much you eat, how well you sleep, whether your boobs leak milk, what you're naming the baby, how you're going to diaper the baby, whether or not you'll go back to work and when, if you're having painkillers during labour...all of these things are questions people seem to have no compunction about asking.

For the record: coming from people I know well, or my health care provider, most of these questions are fair enough. When they're used as small talk by someone I hardly know, it takes an effort to restrain my smart mouth. If I weren't having a baby it'd be patently rude to ask how much I eat as an out-of-the-blue conversation topic. Guess what? Just because I'm gestating, that hasn't changed: it's still rude.

Oh - and that whole "personal bubble" concept? You don't have one. Or at least, it doesn't extend to your bump. I get that people get excited and want to touch it - I always got that feeling, too! But I restrained myself unless the pregnant friend in question was offering free bump rubs all around. If I wouldn't reach out and grab your butt to exclaim, "look at how big it's getting!" my advice is, don't do the same thing to my bump.

Lesson number five. You thought your own hiccups were annoying after five minutes? Try feeling someone else's hiccups! They're funny at first and then they just feel more and more bizarre as the minutes wear on.

Lesson number six. Getting kicked in the crotch hurts. 'Nuff said.

Lesson number seven. Pray - fervently pray - that your belly button stays an innie. So far, it seems my prayers have been heard.

So that's what I've learned so far about being pregnant. Well, that and, watching the baby poke your tummy out is pretty cool. The next time Piggly Wiggly decides to throw what I've been calling a Baby Dance Party, I'll try to catch a few seconds on film to prove just how bizarrely awesome the whole thing is. (And awesomely bizarre.)

Gettin' Down 'n Dirty

So yesterday brought the conclusion of our latest Epic Win in Baby Gear Acquisition. We picked up our crib! Here is what it looks like all nice and assembled in the nursery:

This room is shaping up! I still sort of want a nice blind to go on the window, but that's not immediately necessary. It's another Mamas & Papas score: their Metro crib from last year. And - just as we expected - it's in quite good shape. The base is set high right now because Yours Truly doesn't fancy all kinds of bending over in the unholy hours of the morning to retrieve a cranky baby. Anyway, the baby can't roll around for a while, and when we come to that hurdle, I'll just readjust the mattress height.

But that brings us to the one issue I wanted to tackle with this purchase: the mattress. I had to admit, when we picked it up, the lady did show that it was in pretty good shape. That said: her kid had still been sleeping on it, so I thought that it deserved a bit of super-cleaning TLC before Piggly Wiggly was asked to snuggle down.

Step one? Yank off the washable mattress cover and toss it in our washing machine. The tag specifically asked that it not get tumble dried, so it's airing out now on our clothes rack. (The first use I think that thing has got since we moved!) I made sure to be a bit more liberal with the pre-wash detergent and wash cycle amounts than I might normally have been...just because, you know. I mean: I borrow friends' clothes (especially now when maternity clothing is so freaking expensive! And I know a ton of people who are willing to part with their maternity wardrobes.), but before I wear someone else's clothes long-term, I definitely chuck that junk in the washing machine. It's not like I think I have dirty friends with poor personal hygiene, but if I were lending out my clothes, I'd wash them first, too. It's just a courtesy if the fabric's going to be sitting next to your body all day.

That done, it was time to turn to the mattress itself. A lovely sprung foam affair (read: easy to vacuum clean!) with a meshy outer layer. After a brief Google search to confirm my suspicions, I knew how I wanted to proceed. I could make this mattress cleaner...better. I had the technology. It would be the $6 Million Man! er...free and clean mattress. What technology, you ask? Why; only the most advanced and sophisticated chemical engineering to hit the world of household cleaning...

Of course, by that I mean "I went old school like your grandma and used baking soda...fool." Oh, and I know in my photo, my little jar says "Bicarbonate of Soda"...it's the same thing. It's just another example of how the Brits like to be different. In either event, I think my Nana would have approved.

So armed with sieve and baking soda, I sprinkled that mattress like I was covering doughnuts. (Incidentally, I have been snacking on sugared doughnuts this afternoon...no judgements.) The plan is to leave it until tomorrow and then vacuum the mattress of its frosty topping. That way, the baking soda can absorb any stray smells or stains. Not that I saw any stains (unless you count the discolouring from the side of the mattress that was always face-down, but I don't count that), but it's still worth the small amount of work it takes.

 And, once this blog post is done, I can make a short run to Waitrose for the one thing that will finish off this short project (and just be generally useful around the house anyway)...

Febreze just isn't as ubiquitous over here as it is back home. So this purchase is actually a long time in coming because I've made angry faces for months when I'd check the big grocery store for Febreze and only find air fresheners. Not what I was actually looking for. I just wanted plain old, fabric-cleaning, nice-smelling Febreze.

Either way, I'll let you know tomorrow how my mattress cleaning exploits have turned out. And if they don't turn out so well, that's okay! I can just let the mattress complete the circle of life (i.e.: go in the trash bin outside or to a charity shop), and then buy a new one. Seeing as we've saved about £340 so far on our baby budget (I'll do an official total at some point soon), it's not as big of a deal as it could be.

Update! Turns out that washing everything worked like a charm. It feels a lot cleaner (not that it seemed particularly dirty before) and I'm happy with keeping up a strict washing/airing-out routine to keep it that way.

Teh Interwebz Strikes Back

So here we are again: making the efforts to collect all the big ticket gear we'll need for our baby. And, yet again, the Husband and I have turned to Teh Interwebz as a solution to the hideous mark-ups you find in store. Think I'm exaggerating? Let's take the car seat and clip-in base we just bought, shall we?

In Mamas & Papas - the store it originally comes from - the prices are as follows for the Primo Viaggio car seat and Surefix base (which are the models we have).

So that's a sum total of £243, all told. This sounds vaguely reasonable, until you see this...

Another store's online outlet (not that Argos is expensive enough to need outlet prices on any of its merchandise, but I suppose they're outlet-pricing other people's swag) has the same car seat - base included - for £37. That means the £243 price tag for both seat and base at Mamas & Papas is approximately a 700% mark-up!

With this in mind, we took another look at the £80 crib we wanted (incidentally, the least expensive model in the store by far) and considered finding its equivalent on eBay. And, as of last night, things didn't turn out too badly in that department...

Cha-ching! It's all about several key things: what I've learned in 2 days about shopping on eBay:

Line up lots of options. It doesn't do to only have one of something that you're looking for. If there's only one, you're more desperate to get that one, and therefore, more likely to pay more than you really want for it just to ensure that you outbid everyone else.

Be patient! Always start shopping on eBay with lots of time to spare. This means you can watch a few auctions to see the average selling price of the item you want before you bid on one yourself. That way, you can see whether or not there's actually a decent savings to be had, or whether you're better off just buying it new to avoid the hassle.

Scope out your dealer. Yup. Just like in every gangster movie ever made, you need to know and be able to trust your supplier. Check their eBay ratings, and especially if they don't have 100% positive feedback, make sure you read the feedback! See what people had to say about this person as a seller. Were they prompt with shipping? Was the item exactly as described? Did they keep open good and effective lines of communication in case there was a problem or a question? You really don't want to get shafted on any of these points, so it's worth making sure that whoever is flogging their wares on eBay (apparently, like a medieval wine merchant...) isn't just out for all they can steal.

Set a maximum and stick to it. Never let yourself go beyond your budget just to win the auction. Remember that annoying person who first told you that there were "plenty of fish in the sea"? Turns out they were right: and there's also plenty of cribs and baby slings and car seats and strollers on eBay. (Which is much more relevant to our conversation, since I'm not taking you fishing.)

Bid late. There's no point in driving up the price early. Everyone does it as if it'll scare people away from an auction where a crib originally cost only 99 cents (true story), but considering that to buy one new, you'd generally spend over £100 including the mattress and bedding, trying to jack the price up to £10.00 when the auction has 22 hours to go is only going to stop Ebenezer Scrooge from bidding. And anyway, if you stick your maximum bid in during the last minute, provided it's significantly higher than the current highest, people won't have the time to outbid you before the auction clock runs out...and then, my friend, you've won. And that's a pretty awesome feeling...

So tonight, we drive to Guildford (My fellow Americans, the first "d" in Guildford is silent. Just sayin'...) to pick up our baby's crib. Not bad considering we drive there often enough to go to the movies. Our next task? To source the jogging stroller I've been coveting for less than £50. People don't seem to think we can do this. My mother-in-law, sweet soul that she is, gave a little incredulous giggle when she heard our budget. Sort of like when your 4-year-old tells you they're going to fly to the moon: possible, but extremely unlikely. Well. All I have to say to that is:

Idle Speculation

Now that I have an Etsy account (originally for the sole purpose of buying myself and the baby cute things I was too lazy to make), I've been toying with the idea of actually using it. Shocking, right? But the question is: what am I actually talented enough to be able to make at home while watching/feeding/changing/exercising with/taking stupidly cute photos of a tiny human? Answer? Cards. As I mentioned before, we're already some serious card-making fiends in this house. But the even bigger question is: who would actually buy my cards? (Thus making the whole exercise something worthwhile and not purely academic.) Answer? You tell me!

My first ideas revolved around things like Thank You cards, Happy Birthday cards, and generic insert-your-cleverer-message-here cards that can be used for just about anything. These I could easily design and print from our computer at home and assemble at the kitchen table...just like I did with our wedding invites. Except those I had printed for me at Mailboxes Etc. since the volume of stuff to get printed meant it was cheaper to make someone else do it. :)

 a fun preppy pink-and-navy stripe for birthdays.

a yellow-and-blue stripe for a slightly more boy-friendly look.

some super-tasty chocolate cake with a fun gingham background.

If I actually made this, the cake would stand out from the background

...sort of like being 3D...but not quite.

This last one (which I made ages ago) could be made much less busy,

and then would be perfect as a blank but customizable card

for pretty much most occasions.

The other idea I had was something I'd found on Teh Interwebz and posted to by Pinterest boards. The above is a cute card decorated with fabric scraps. Of course, they needn't just be in layers; you could make cute shapes as well, or simple pictures. Then, just line the inside of the card with some easy-to-write-on cardstock and blam! You have yourself an awesome one-of-a-kind card; useful for Thank Yous, Get Well Soons, How Are Yous, and Happy (fill in your holiday/celebration here).

Personally, I think it's a fun idea, and the sort of thing that would keep me occupied in the hours not entirely consumed by my baby. And, it means a bit of extra money in the bank...which is never a bad thing. Unless you live in the UK and death is imminent, in which case: get rid of that money pronto before the inheritance tax stings you and steals half of your loot for the government. (I feel like I should address you as "Comrade" at the end of that sentence. Good thing I'm not actually frightened by the Communists hiding under my bed, waiting to take my stuff and redistribute it to the rest of the collective of political boogey-men hiding in the closet. Maybe these are the same gremlins who make socks disappear from the wash...)

So, I'd need to do the math and work it all out, but perhaps going pro with my card-making skillz (rather than sitting at JV or Varsity level like I am now) could be the ticket to an interesting project and some financial fulfilment at-home. Thoughts? Suggestions? Comments? Skeptically-raised eyebrows? Imploring requests for personalized stationary? Let's hear all of it.

eBaby Gear

So what's the worst part about getting ready to become a parent? I mean besides the water retention and having to take off your engagement ring because otherwise it'll get stuck on your now-sausage-like fingers. Oh yeah, and not including how much harder it is to sit up in bed because your wildly distended baby-full uterus renders most of your abs useless. Or the fact that your baby will decide that your bladder makes the world's best pillow. You know, besides all those minor things, what's the worst part of prepping for parenthood?

Give up yet? Here's a hint...

Got it yet? It's the heinous amount of money you can easily spend on all those "necessities" for your kid. Don't believe me? Let's take just a fifth of this sample list from TheBump.com to prove my point...

Nursery

[  ] Crib, cradle or bassinet*
• Slats no more than 2 3/8 inches apart
• Corner posts no more than 1/16 of an inch above frame
• No cutouts in headboard or footboard
• Top rails at least 26 inches above mattress

[  ] Firm, flat mattress fit snugly in crib (less than two fingers should fit between mattress and crib)*

[  ] 1-3 washable crib mattress pads

[  ] Bumper pads covering inside perimeter (secured by at least six ties or snaps, with all extra length removed -- we suggest breathable bumpers)

[  ] 2-4 fitted crib sheets*

[  ] 4-6 soft, light receiving blankets*

[  ] 1-2 heavier blankets (for colder climates)

[  ] Rocking or arm chair

[  ] Music box, sound machine or CD player

[  ] Crib mobile with black and white images (remove when baby can support self on hands and knees)

[  ] Baby monitor

[  ] Nightlight

[  ] Dresser

[  ] Toy basket

[  ] Swing or bouncy chair

See what I mean? Anyone else having a "holy crap" moment yet? I sure did. There's no way I was getting all this stuff for the Piggly Wiggly! I sure as hell didn't need a white noise machine as a baby. And as for the baby monitor...I can see where it could be useful, but our apartment is laid out so that in the night, it takes me maybe ten steps out of my bed to get into my baby's room. So scratch that one off. Crap tons of blankets? Go for one of those little overall sacks that you clip over the baby's shoulders to keep them warm. Added bonus? Baby can't kick it off and get it tangled around his head.

Basically, the rule of thumb with this is to take the lists of baby gear as friendly advice. This is not a mandate on how to spend your money. This is not a Commandment From On High exhorting you, yea, with much strictness, to go forth unto the store, and verily to spend all thy monies on much costly raiment and accoutrements for the fruit of thy loins. What it is, is a list of things that lots of other people have found either absolutely necessary (let's not be putting baby to sleep in a laundry basket, after all!) or pretty useful for their given situation (some babies love the automatic rocker - others scream like their lives depend on it).

However, even when paring down the list to what your family deems the bare essentials and a few convenience-enhancing devices, you can still spend a wheelbarrow full of your hard-earned cashola. Proof? If we'd bought the crib, mattress, car seat, car seat base, and stroller we wanted all brand new from the store it would have set us back about £463.50. That's not including a mattress cover, sheets, a bumper for the crib, cloth diapers, a dresser - or some other means of storing baby clothes - blankets, a few toys, a diaper bag, clothes...see how this list grows so quickly? What doesn't help is that people price quite a lot of this stuff far beyond what is reasonable. As if your decision to have a kid meant that you signed up to be robbed blind and financially violated.

Our solution? eBay. Oh yeah. Before anyone shakes their head in dubious wonder and skepticism, let me say that our decision to eBay a lot of stuff is not based solely on the desire to save money. We want to be smart. It's not like I'm going up to a van with blacked-out windows to buy a used car seat from a disreputable-looking entrepreneur with a trench-coat and Burt Reynolds' moustache...

Seriously...

Let's take the car seat we bought the other day:

We got it for the princely sum of £17.00, all told. And that included the base that is now strapped into our back seat. Brand new this would have cost us about £250. You do the maths. I still recommend caution in going this route. It's not like I haven't heard all the manufacturer's warnings that basically say: "if you don't buy your car seat from us, your car will get hit and your baby will die. If you don't strap the seat in correctly, your car will get hit and your baby will die." (Okay, I'm being facetious, but they definitely play on people's justified fears about how best to keep their kids safe.)

So what did we do? We thoroughly stalked scoped out the lady we bought our car seat from. She lives about 20 minutes away from us (the only reason we agreed to do that auction: it meant we could easily see the product we were getting our hands on) and reasonably assured us that the seat hadn't been involved in an accident (if I drove a BMW like that, I'd probably be pretty darn careful about not getting into accidents, too!), and that it hadn't been around smokers or pets (we found no signs of either when we went to her place to get the seat). Her eBay rating was ideal, but not too good to be true, and she was getting rid of a bunch of other small baby gear at the same time. What really helped our confidence, was that she was really up-front about anything that was wrong with the stuff she was selling. The only thing wrong with our car seat? Some fraying of the fabric on the padding around the harness buckle. Easily fixable. And she not only included the original instruction manuals (completely intact), but also offered to help us figure out how to work the thing if we were a bit car-seat-retarded.

All this said, there's definitely still some stuff you ought to buy new. Cloth diapers? Yeah, I'm really not a big fan of wearing someone else's underwear, so I shouldn't expect my baby to do it either. Crib mattress? Unless it's in pristine condition and you're committed to thoroughly steam-cleaning it, let's skip the Oprah-induced bed-bug nightmares and just get one new. The cost may be higher, but it negates the hassle and the worries.

Seriously? Give me a minute to choke back that vomit...

So I'm not saying that you should don your organic freecycled Birkenstocks, sip some wheatgrass juice, and settle down with the free wifi in your favourite vegan cafe to viciously snipe every baby-related eBay auction you can. But for things like gently-used strollers (you can always buy the padded inserts new) or inexpensive discontinued crib frames (that will still fit your new mattress), eBay's definitely not a bad way to go.

In the meantime, excuse me while I go hunt down the £243 jogging stroller I intend to snag for a measly £20. (Please tell me someone recognised Beatrix Potter's Hunca Munca: the mouse with a frugal mind!)

Kicking Along + Friday Pinterest Round-up

So another week has come and gone. I really haven't made any more nursery progress besides clearing out the junk. That involved a better organizational plan for the hall closet...which is still in progress. How difficult is it really to be organized? Very difficult, apparently, because I still haven't figured out the best way to arrange that freaking closet. Seb nearly had a fit this morning trying to get his wet-weather cycling gear out without knocking over the box full of his bike toolz...and yeah: that's totally how we spelled it when we labelled the box. We know we're nerds: we embrace it.

In other news, those fabric samples from Fabric Box came.

...and the other one...

I'm not sure yet what I want to do about both of them, but I'm thinking - since I already have curtains and don't really fancy trying to make them without El Sewing Machine - that I'll get enough of this and one or two other fabrics and make fabric boxes.

I've been thinking about nursery things a lot lately - pricing stuff up and guestimating floor space and the like. The conclusion I've drawn is that if we intend to fit two kids in this room eventually (which we do, for the record), we don't really have room for a dresser and a crib and a bed. So, my genius idea has been to really utilize the storage space available on the two sets of Billy shelves we have from Ikea. If I buy wicker baskets, or make custom-sized fabric baskets for all the subsequent clothes and diapers we'll acquire, it will...
ping! Save money on a big dresser
ping! Save me the cost of moving it or the hassle of freecycling/craigslisting it when we're ready to go
ping! Save space in the tiny room we have for the few chirrens we'd like to have in the next few years.

Yeah...I imagined this lovely fairy-like sound effect for each of my bullet points, like on a TV show.

So as much as I said I don't want to tackle sewing projects without El Sewing Machine, I think this is something I could hijack borrow my mother-in-law's sewing machine for. A short-term, easy project that has a definite purpose: saving my cheap self some monies!

And so, with DIY planning on the brain (along with a few other keep-me-busy project ideas on the back burners), I'll round off the post with a short compilation of the cutest things I found on Teh Interwebz this week. Because, really, who doesn't feel better after looking at pretty things? (People with no souls, maybe...)

I'm in love with the contrast of the really clean white counters

and the rustic-looking rough stone walls. Plus, the deep tall

aspect ratio of the windows reminds me of the chalet we 

stayed in on our honeymoon in the Alps!

I would paint a floor like this as a fun sunroom/playroom when we get 

our own house. I think I'd have a ridiculous amount of fun doing a project

like this one.

Jonathan Adler lamp. I like the fun bright orange color of the base,

and the funky 60s feel of the shape. Not that I could ever afford anything

from Jonathan Adler, but a girl can dream...

This is from an online store I found called EmmersonMade. I'm not

going to lie: it's pretty stinking expensive. But, that said, it's the sort

of thing I'd have no problem treating myself to if I get the baby weight

off in a suitably impressive amount of time.

These are just too cool. I like that the shape doesn't have to be

spectacular or eye-catching - the gold plating takes care of that

all on its own.

One of many very cute rugs from this place called

Rug Couture in London.

Not Always Interesting

Yeah, that's life. Not always chock-full of fun crafty projects or helicopters landing outside your house (true story!) or interesting updates about the fetus you're incubating. But still, it goes on.

I suppose before I go further, I should qualify that statement about a helicopter landing outside our house. It actually landed in the school field just across the street from us and the BP garage and it was a med-evac chopper. I headed out to drop off some mail down the road at just the right time to see the neighbourhood event of the month: an apparently dire car crash right on our corner. There were little old ladies who corralled the mail man to explain the whole to-do to him after interrogating the police. There were two really classy kla$$y teenagers, one of whom kept screaming to anyone who'd listen that the poor unfortunate soul in the car was about to pop their clogs. (It's only because of listening to the Harry Potter audiobooks that I realised this meant, "to bite the big one" , "to take a dirt nap", etc. Is that sad?) A reassuring thing for the person being med-evac'd to hear, I'm sure.

Anyway, there were little knots of people scattered here and there all over the sidewalks on all sides of the junction, and the fuzz wasted no time in cordoning the whole thing off as they got the fire department to saw the top off the car to better facilitate victim removal. The last time I had a vaguely unifying community experience like this was when the Stables in Camden Town burned down when I was spending a semester in London. We lived right up the road from Camden, so it didn't take long for people to wander out to watch. There must just be something about living in England that lends itself to me witnessing disasters on various scales with crowds of anonymous neighbours/strangers. Though, nothing ever happened when I lived at Penfold Street, or in our last house in Farnborough, so we're only 2/4 at this point.

Now that yesterday's tragic excitement is over (I think they got the person out okay in the end), life is back to boring for the time being. I'm getting geared up to take some driving lessons. Not because I don't know how to drive, but because the test I need to take to get my licence is infamous over here. The Husband passed his test the first time, but then - he's seen people driving over here his whole life and didn't have many bad habits to un-learn at the age of 17. Whereas back in Maryland, if you had to retake the test, it implied substandard intelligence, over here it's not at all uncommon to hear that people have had to retake their practical driving exam. Not the most comforting of thoughts. Basically, I just need to learn what sorts of goofy behaviours they want me to pretend to do during the test and then I can drive like a normal human being again. I mean, really: who shuffles the steering wheel through their hands to turn the car? Hand-over-hand is so much easier...or do the racecar driver turn and keep your hands in the same position on the wheel throughout the curve. Honestly. And the idea that you can only be in neutral if the parking brake is on!? Where did this stupidity come from? If I have to keep the clutch in while my foot brake is on, doesn't that wear out the clutch? Isn't that a bad thing?

Other than that it's just teaching the girls' youth group at church, keeping the pregnancy fat away by religiously going to the gym, and organizing the junk in the nursery to accommodate the day when we buy Baby some more furniture. Since, you know, I imagine the baby would like a place to sleep and all. At this point "organizing" really means "looking at all our crap and viciously thinning the herd." I know there's a bunch of stuff I need to keep, but Seb and I are both packrats by nature. The only difference is that, doing most of my moves either by car or by plane, I've learned to be more ruthless in what I keep and what I resignedly throw away. I'm not heartless and unsentimental! It's not like I'll trash any scribbles the Piggly Wiggly makes if they don't look good enough to hang in the National Gallery, but unless it's the first one, or something insanely impressive, or a specific present for Mommy or Daddy, these things do have a shelf life. I mean, my mom kept the books I took to making in kindergarten, but she didn't keep every doodle I put on paper. I think it's a good rule of thumb to be able to weed through any collection of stuff you have.

Like just before the move: another brilliant time to force a clean-out of your junk. I made Seb go through the drawer I called Stuff You Never Wear and give me, well...all the stuff he never wore! I got a trash bag full of clothes to donate by the end. Really, the big point of that was that it gave me a trash bag full of stuff we didn't have to pack and find space for. As much as I love acquiring and keeping things (I am the person with a shoebox full of cards and handwritten letters my husband made me, after all), there's something therapeutic in having a huge purge of your crap, where you ruthlessly crumple and rip papers and shake the crumbs out of boxes until you can take them all out in a bag to the trash bins.

So on that note, I must get back to my own Giant Purge of Crap: 2011. Wish me luck!

Food for the Fourth (and another baby-related buy)

So as Monday was the 4th of July, I spent most of my day out of the house and up in Reading with some friends prepping an awesome cookout. Granted, only two of us were actually American, but my friend's kids, her husband, and my lovely brother-in-law and his wife were more than happy for an excuse to get together and have an outdoor summery feast. The Husband, alas, was off in Henley for a business course workshop, so he couldn't join in the awesomeness and fun. I think he was doubly sad because, not only did he miss the festivities generally, but he missed s'mores in the park and I was unable to salvage any of my apple pie from a ravenous hoard of Brits. I'm surprised I snagged a piece for myself, actually, after one family friend loudly declared the virtues of my baking! Seriously, I've never seen a pie I made get divvied up so quickly.

I confess, since I was helping to cook/bake most of the day, I have no pictures of myself (or of most other people for that matter). But I do have some great pictures of the spread that Kari and I and her girls put together. So, without further ado,

pretty tasty drinks. These were the product of a Costco trip. Is it sad that

I was really excited by that? It felt like being back in the States!

Lamb koftas. Simple, yummy, and highly recommended.

To be honest, you could probably do this with ground beef, too.

Pre-grilling chicken-pepper-and-pineapple kebabs.

Hard-boiled eggs getting ready for...

Potato salad. Definitely a cookout must.

Snazzy fresh herbs. I'd love to feel this impressive and grow my own

herbs in a cute box in the kitchen. I need a garden. Even just a tiny one.

Can we tell yet how much I love abusing the macro setting on our camera?

A glamour shot of the chips we got to round out the meal.

A very impressively colourful salad.

Oh, and in other, un-4th-of-July news: my latest purchase for the Bebe came in the mail today! After long conversations and some intensive Google searching, Seb and I have decided that - baby willing - we're going the cloth diaper route for our little bundle of wiggles.

Since that's the case, we realised we'd need a good container to house the soiled laundry until it got thrown through the wash. Enter, Tubtrugs! These amazing (and amazingly cute!) containers were a find from another of my new favourite domestic-goddess blogs: Making It Lovely. Since they're durable bendy plastic, I'm not worried about the piggly wiggly injuring himself (or herself), or destroying the container and strewing nasty diapers all over the place.

Yeah, in keeping with our Gender Surprise nursery theme, I got my Tubtrug in a preppy shade of green called Pistachio. Super fun.

I know most moms who go "Team Green" on their pregnancies (a.k.a: We're not scoping our baby's junk on the ultrasound) complain about people's insistence about an effusion of pale yellow and pale green everything. What about red?, they ask. What about orange and hints of different shades of blue or purple? What about a whole freaking rainbow? Personally, (as is pretty darn obvious) yellow and green really don't bother me. But why I think they don't bother me is that I haven't gone the whole pastel, cutesy, this is obviously for a baby...in case you couldn't tell route. The yellow on our walls is a happy bright hay colour, and the green in the lampshade, nursing chair, and now Tubtrug, are all bright and varied shades of green. Some forest green, some lime green, some apple green...this nursery is awash in a plethora of green. And before you get too concerned, yeah: I'm going to add some more colours to the mix. I'm not such a yellow-and-green nutcase that the whole room will look like a field of dandelions or something.

So that's my only update for now. I need to get back to some long-awaited cleaning and a few errands around town (including a trip back to North Camp to the Fabric Box!). Until tomorrow!