Everyone Needs an Enabler

There is officially (at least, according to the medical professionals I've seen) one week left on the countdown to Baby D's arrival. My only problem with the near-constant Braxton-Hicks contractions of the last day or two is...well, that they're Braxton-Hicks and not demonstrably The Real Thing. The Husband, apparently, came about 11 days late, and I know from asking my own mom that I was a week late, myself.

So as I wait for either labour to start itself (please, dear Lord!) or for the midwives and doctors to issue my baby an eviction notice, I've been getting increasingly impatient. My hospital bag is packed. The stroller handle has been fixed. The car got cleaned inside and out. The car seat is officially and irrevocably installed. Thank You cards for baby shower presents have all been written. I've attended my antenatal class and learned all about birthing positions, breathing through contractions, and the rest of the general indignity that surrounds the miracle of life. I've even come to something of a stopping point with all of my DIY projects.

I painted the nursery, hung pictures, hung curtains, tidied shelves, assembled a chair, assembled the crib, washed all the tiny baby clothes I found it useful to wash...I'm currently on hiatus from baby-prep. But then...as I vent my impatience to the world...a wonderful suggestion to pass the time comes along...

Another DIY project!? I could sew a crib skirt to hide any under-crib storage. I could make a fun mobile to hang over the baby's crib (Alexander Calder, anyone?). I could install crown moulding that would let me paint the ceiling a fun colour so that the moulding pops, creating fun architectural interest in the room! I could put doors on the shelving! I could paint the inside of the shelf framing so it makes a fun contrast to the white outside and shelves! The possibilities are endless.

Ladies and gentlemen: my own mother is now my DIY enabler...and I get to have her stay with me for two whole weeks next month! Just think of the wreaths and quilts and wall art I could make (or convince her to make with me, since my sewing skills are pretty crap).

Also, another great Lorelei Gilmore-enabler moment? My mom just spelled it labour...with the extraneous British ou, like in colour or candour. I've been doing this for years - since high school, in fact, when I used it to great effect in typing up some notes for the lovely Ryan Jackson. Said Anglicized spelling not only started a very fun mock argument in the hallway after class, but prompted Jackson to give me a copy of the brilliant Lynn Truss's Eats, Shoots and Leaves. I have an unhealthy, nerdish love for that book.

First, she enables my DIY obsession. Then, she enables my Anglophile tendency to spell everything the way the Husband always learned to. How awesome is my mom? (Correct answer: very.)