The Nostalgia Factor

So the Husband was reading an article - or listening to a podcast or something - the other day which mentioned a study that says that you actually feel younger, not older, when you hear a song or see something that reminds you of being a kid. I guess that explains why I was getting my groove on to some early 90s hip-hop in the living room the other day after stumbling onto the new cover of "Return of the Mack" by Mann, Iyaz, and Snoop Dogg. Seriously: I hadn't heard that song since elementary school...it's been ages!

Apparently, since then I've been racking up the nostalgic moment non-stop. On Sunday, Seb and I were looking for something to do together to pass the time. We haven't found many fun two-player card games and we only have two board games to our name, so we resorted to the computer for some entertainment that didn't necessarily involve watching a nature documentary. (Side note: we did watch this hilariously over-dramatic documentary on honey ants the other day. It was narrated by Andy Serkis and I just kept waiting for some reference to a "precious"...anyway...)

The online search for two-player computer games got me something I'd been looking for for quite a while. An old computer game called Lode Runner: The Legend Returns. It's a product of the mid '90s from Sierra that involves sneaking and blasting your way through various types of terrain to collect gold all while avoiding red-cloaked baddies who chomp you into tiny bits if they catch you. Does that sound lame? I'm not doing it much justice.

Anyway, Seb found a version to download and now - after years of extremely intermittent searches - I finally have it on my laptop for continued enjoyment. I used to spend hours as a kid playing this game on the old Compaq Presario we used to have. (Of course, this was after the Commodore 64, with Jet Boot Jack, died its ignominious death.) Really, it was my dad's game, and - given the incredible age difference - he was way better at it than I ever was. V and I used to make him tell us when he'd beat another 10-level set so we could come watch the fun (and pretty high-class for the time) animations that detailed what tool was added to your arsenal for the next 10 levels. It also showed which new background the next 10 levels would have, too.

My next, "holy crap it's been forever!" moment? It's autumn now. No; I don't care that the calendar on my desktop still reads: 31 August 2011. Do. Not. Care. The temps have dropped here, and the air smells like cold (yes, cold has a smell) in a way that distinctly reminds me of the hour or two just before school would start back in Maryland. I feel like I need a lunchbox and thermos again! Anyway, all that is to say: because it feels like autumn, there are certain clothes I like to get out, certain songs I like to listen to, certain foods I like to eat...and certain TV shows I think of more often. With that in mind, I decided that since I'll need something to watch compulsively in the hours that Baby D keeps me awake (coming soon to a sleep-deprived young family near you!), that I would watch something I haven't watched in far too long. Something that is creepily integral to understanding the way I talk and the freakishly symbiotic relationship I have with my mom and sister. Gilmore Girls.

There is no other TV show I equate so fully with this time of the year. Maybe it's because the whole thing is set in the lovely fictional New England town of Stars Hollow, CT. Maybe it's the abundance of layers and scarves and plaid flannel throughout a large chunk of the broadcasting season. Maybe it's the gorgeous shots of golden and red autumnal New England foliage during the title sequence of every episode. I don't know. But anyway, it's autumn and I have to watch Gilmore Girls. I mean, this show is why I remembered the term stichomythia for my AP English Lit exam senior year of high school. It honed my love of fast-paced dialogue and esoteric cultural references sprinkled freely in even the most mundane conversation. And now I can relive all 7 seasons all over again.

If there was any more evidence needed that this baby is going to come out a fast-talking, wise-cracking, well-read nerd, then this is it. Quotations from obscure books, classic movies, and indie folk music will abound. So now that it is autumn: let the Gilmore Girls re-screenings commence! As if I needed another reason to love this time of year above all others...

Another Open Letter...

Dear Inappropriate Lady at Sainsbury's,

I must confess, I have no empathy. I've never been one of those people who, in the right outfit, could be considered "ambiguously gendered". No one's ever come up to me to start a conversation with a well-meaning and apprehensive, but ultimately mistaken, "Excuse me, sir..." To be perfectly honest, I doubt you fit this category of unfortunate individuals either. Sure, you happen to have more-masculine-than-average facial features, but you're not Pat from JoAnn's Fabrics with the awkward stubble, androgynously overweight body type, and that middle-of-the-range kind of voice that could be either a high-pitched man or a low-pitched woman. To this day, I still don't know whether I would have run into Pat at the sinks in the ladies' toilets. I don't think I want to know, to be honest.

Anyway, Inappropriate Lady, all this is to say: you don't need to overcompensate. I shouldn't know how wild and free you like to hang. I shouldn't have to wonder if you do weekend stints as a nudist in some compound out in the Hampshire wilderness. Most of all, I really shouldn't be able to see your enormous nipples through your indiscreet see-through white faux-linen top.

I mean: you've got to pick one thing or the other. Either, don't wear a bra, but make sure I can't see your areolae through your top, or wear a top that lets me pick out the intricate details of the leopard-print brassiere you like to flaunt. You can not - in this instance - have your cake and eat it too. I haven't seen that much public nudity since the last time I flipped through a National Geographic.

Did no one tell you that it's inappropriate to have your boobies hanging out in public? I get that strangers might be ashamed to admit they're being flashed despite the fact that you have a top on, but your husband was clearly standing in the queue next to you. Is he blind? A vicarious exhibitionist? Uncaring? Because I'm hoping he has some excuse for not telling you that your nipples were blatantly visible before you left the house. Otherwise, girlfriend, the blame for this shameful public display is all on you.

I don't care if it feels better to hang loose and free. I don't care if bras are a tool of oppression from piggish male chauvinists. I don't even care if you have a wicked rash from your underwire that your doctor has specifically instructed you to air out. Being clothed in public is something you should do more than pay lip service to. Seriously: it would have felt less indecent if you'd just not put a shirt on at all. I'm just saying...nobody needs to see all of that. Nobody. Especially not in the queue at the grocery store. So please: do the world a favour and get a sweater on before any more eye-bleach needs to be dished out to the general public.

Come on, now. Even nasty Ms. Jackson had the good grace to be embarrassed to show her bits in public.

What's Up @ 32 Weeks...

So as of today, Piggly Wiggly and I have now reached a whopping 32 weeks of growing and incubating. I still can't quite believe how ridiculously long ago it seems when I first saw the word "pregnant" on that little digital test. Seriously: I've spent only 6 weeks of this whole year not being pregnant...and during those six weeks, I was trying pretty darn hard to be pregnant.

What milestones have we now reached at 32 weeks? Well, as of my last appointment with the midwife, I've been informed that my little munchkin is finally head-down instead of chilling out like my uterus is his/her own personal hammock. The bonus to this? Head-down baby means, in no uncertain terms: we are getting ready to be born! Just what I want to hear.

Oh, and according to the Fit Pregnancy website, Piggly Wiggly's bones are ossifying. It explains why those night-time TaiBo sessions have become much more pronounced. It's a no-brainer now as to whether I'm being poked with a foot or a hand or a knee most of the time.

My one fear is this:

From now until delivery, you'll be gaining about a pound a week. About half of that gain is the baby's, the rest is fluid retention.

Seriously? A pound a week for the next (possibly) eight weeks? No thanks. I've gained enough weight. I already have to keep my wedding and engagement rings in their box because they don't fit on my finger any more. That's because my finger now bears more resemblance to a sausage than a normal human digit. Any more fluid retention and I'll be holding more water than the Hoover Dam! Don't get me wrong, my 4 lb. baby can gain what weight it likes...and by that I mean it can gain another 3 lbs., give or take. But I don't personally need to put on another pound. Especially since it's not even something useful like fat stores for breastfeeding, it's just useless water retention. Do I look like a water cooler? Are people standing around me and gossiping with tiny paper cups in their hands? I didn't think so.

Sharing the (DIY) Love

It seems that over the past weeks and months the lion's share of the DIY attention and effort I've expended on our new place has been devoted to the nursery. Just witness the laundry list of projects I've done for that room:
1) painted the walls
2) bought/framed art work
3) hung curtains (though, to be fair, I did that for our 3 rooms with big windows)
4) assembled my nursing chair
5) got a new lamp shade
6) re-built the crib we bought
7) built the shelving unit (being honest, I didn't do that one...Seb did.)

Still. My other rooms have had a bit of art hung in them, and I did get new handles and drawer pulls on the kitchen dresser, and I refinished the chest that looked like a victim of domestic abuse to show it some love (and make more seating). That said, through all of these projects there was one room that was sadly lacking in TLC: our bedroom.

Yeah, I'd hung some pretty awesome sage green curtains, but aside from a few token efforts to keep the space tidy (which were appallingly "meh" as efforts go), I really hadn't done anything to make our room nicer. Which is a shame, because especially once the baby comes, I want this room to feel nice. I want it to be a bit of a sanctuary: a good place to relax. I'm not talking about going all Nate Berkus or Thom Felicia on it and adding a stripey accent wall and a crazy canopy over the bed with dimmer-switch-controlled sconces in brushed nickel or oil-rubbed bronze finish (an obsession I'd love to steal from YHL...) and tons of snazzy (and expensive) throw pillows to dominate half of the length of the bed. Can I just say how much superfluous "decorative" pillows bother me? You just throw them on the floor at night and have to pick them all up again in the morning so it doesn't look like Hurricane Katrina hit your bedroom!

I digress...those sorts of grand schemes really aren't on my radar. Would I paint the walls? Sure, if I found a nice neutral shade that set off the curtains and the dark furniture nicely. Would I consider a tiny plush rug to cover what little floor space is exposed? Yeah - just for the pampering factor. Do I want to remedy the two depressingly blank (and badly repaired) walls by our bed? You betcha! But what the room really needed first was to be organized. Tiny spaces die a horrible death when they're taken over by clutter, and by that assessment, our bedroom was struggling on life support.

A while back I suggested one small step to get me going: a hook to hang the cluster of necklaces currently beating the hell out of our wardrobe door and to get my Forever 21 straw hat off the chest of drawers so I could dust things more conveniently. So last weekend, while we were out getting some electronics supplies for the Husband, I convinced him to nip round the corner and take me back to - you guessed it - B&Q to snag some more project supplies.

With my chosen hook in hand, I decided this afternoon to make good on my promise to start improving our room and drilled the holes for the rawl plugs that came as part of the hook's installation kit. As you can see: drilling through crappy drywall isn't a very clean and neat process. Oh, and when I say crappy drywall, I'm not kidding. I could see the wall bow against the pressure when Seb pressed on a fitting to make sure it was secure. I'm not sure I'm terribly reassured by that demonstration...

Anyway: holes drilled, the rawl plugs that came with the hook were hammered in.

Only problem? The holes I drilled were too big for them and upon our first attempt to screw the screws into place, both rawl plugs slid back into their holes and disappeared into the mystical chasm between the walls. FAIL.

So the Husband unpacked a bag of rawl plugs and screws we bought for a previous project and used those instead. Life savers. These didn't disappear into the wall, never to be seen again. They also actually held the screws that fit the hook mountings, so I wasn't left with an ugly finish. Yeah, my hat will obscure the hook most of the time, but that was no excuse.

There was one more problem, though. The screws we'd got in the hook installation kit were crap. Just a few turns with our power drill had threaded them both thoroughly. It was a miracle that we managed to drill/ply them out again to start over!

I hate to say it, but we sure did get what we paid for! Luckily, though, that previous £2 we spent on a huge bag of more rawl plugs than we can possibly use saved our butts on this and we were able to make it work. Witness: my tiny necklace hook - though not as swanky as the ones I hunted down on Etsy - is installed and ready for use...

It helped that there was already a hole in the wall that I was able to just drill wider to use as a guide for hanging this thing. Oh, and lurking in the corner of the mirror in that picture is the other improvement I made to our room: a lampshade I don't hate. And it matches our curtains! I have to admit, I had my heart set on something cream and sage toile, but for £5 at Sainsbury's, I'm really not complaining!

So I tidied up the dresser, broke out the Endust and gave the whole thing a good wipe-down. Then I consolidated some of the junk we'd been accumulating and put everything into its new-found place. We really do both try to fight our natural tendency to be untidy pack rats. Thankfully, college (and then grad school in a 2-bedroom flat with 4 other people!) mostly cured me of my cluttered ways. Though it'll be another long cycle before I bother organizing my drawers again...there's so much stuff I just don't bother folding.

So the above is a much better representation of what our room looks like now. I just need to hunt down some nifty art to hang over the bed and get some more frames for family pictures on the other wall and then I'll be set. Er...I'll be set to start deciding what else I want to do to this room. I feel a long Etsy/Pinterest session coming up...

Something like this would be awesome hanging over the bed...

Baby and Body

Speaking of things I'm impatient for (the release of The Hobbit in cinemas, meeting my gorgeous baby, having my momma come visit...), I'm impatient to have my pre-baby body back. Yes, I know, this is where I roll my eyes and assert that I have - in fact - heard everyone say that you never get back to exactly the way you were before a baby. Things change. I get that. But that doesn't mean I'm not desperate to get back to longer and more intense sweat-sessions at the gym.

I dread the idea of being forced to stay home and not go running or do the elliptical. I hate thinking of the weeks I might be require to lay off the squat machine or the free weights. And, let me say, I miss the gruelling abs workouts I used to do. I miss my (mostly) flat tummy and my ability to do tons of crunches and then do 30-second planks minute after minute in rapid succession.

Why is that? It's not that I'm a body-hating Nazi. I'm impressed that my body can do what it's doing and grow a brand new human being! I'm even more impressed that it's done it with only the addition of a few tiny stretch marks to my hips (which will soon fade into obscurity). But I also derive a very real pleasure out of being able to squat 220 lbs. on the free-weight inclined squat machine, or ramping the weight on the back machine at the gym up to 110 lbs. When I lived in central London, I'd run up through Regent's Park most days, and even when I wasn't at my slimmest (which I haven't been since just after I graduated from Wake), there was definitely a strong neurological reward from checking myself out in the shop windows on my way back from a run in the park. It didn't matter in those few seconds past the bistro windows that I still had a bit of flab on my tummy, or that my arms weren't very toned, or that my calves have always been pretty tiny and not at all muscular-looking. What mattered was that seeing myself mid-stride, pounding the pavement to my favourite music...I looked good. No: I looked damn good. And it wasn't just because I happen to love the sizeable boobs and pert bum that come courtesy of my hourglass figure (though I do love to 'shake what my momma gave me'!)...it was because I knew I was taking care of myself. I was doing something constructive with my body: making it work more efficiently, feel more powerful and healthy, and yes - making it look better, too.

So while I appreciate the uncomfortable, unglamorous miracle of baby-growing, I do yearn for the time when I can once again run 5 miles a day in my Under Armor shorts and a form-fitting self-wicking top. I want to lift weights and climb stairs until my sweat evaporates and leaves those creepy salt deposits behind. I want those things because I know that I can do those things. I've done it before. And it's just part of who I am that I take pride in proving what my body can do. Just like I'm proud of the ways in which I've honed my intellect, or become an emotionally-functional adult, or developed my musical talents - I'm also someone who invests a lot in improving my physical prowess as well. Don't get me wrong: looking smoking hot in a brand new Little Black Dress is definitely part of the appeal of losing the baby weight to embrace life after pregnancy. But for me, looking good isn't that fun unless I feel good and feel fit, as well. And part of being able to feel as fit as I can be - for me - is being able to feel like I can give 100% in my workouts. To feel like I can kick my own ass and walk out of a gym feeling sore and sweaty and tired, and amazing. Yeah, physically, your muscles may be worn out for a little bit, but I always feel energized after a good workout, not enervated.

So yeah, I'm going to sit out the remaining weeks of pregnancy with a bit of impatience and ill-grace. I want a healthy baby, and the risks of premature birth are in no way an acceptable trade for getting my body back a bit earlier than anticipated, but don't think I won't be chomping at the proverbial bit waiting for the green light to get my sweat on.

oh my love...how I miss you...

Fuelling the Impatience

So, who wants to see some pictures of my super-cute nephew, Henry? I sure do: that kid's scrumptious! The Husband and I headed up to see the in-laws yesterday for a quick visit and a second opinion on the song we're performing for his cousin Austin's wedding in 2 weeks (eek!). Turns out that our lovely sister-in-law, Rachel, went in to hospital earlier than we expected to deliver her beautiful baby boy. Of course, we couldn't let this chance to visit the brother and sister, and see the newest member of the family (and our first nephew!) pass unheeded.

It was a great visit. Henry's so cute and tiny! And can I just say how freaking adorable it is to watch my husband hold a tiny baby? Seriously. I'm a sucker for cute guys holding cute babies. Resistance is futile. My small, grinchy heart melts seeing that.

Of course, aside from the excitement of seeing our nephew for the first time, both Seb and I got all shook up over baby Henry for another reason, too. Now we're even more impatient to see our own baby! I mean: who is this kid going to look like!? What colour will his/her hair be? Eyes? (Well, probably blue-ish to start off, but after that - who knows?) Whose nose will the baby's most resemble? What kinds of crazy and hilarious newborn baby faces will our offspring decide to unleash upon us for our entertainment? These questions need answers! And seeing our little nephew has only made us more desperate for the time when those questions can be answered.

Plus: can I just say how bizarre it is - in the best possible sense of the term - to go from a giant bump that wiggles on its own, to a separate and distinct individual whose tiny hands and feet and face you can actually see, and with whom you can actually interact? It's really strange to try and make the cognitive leap looking at that baby and saying, "oh yeah, that was you doing all the kicking and rolling around when I was trying to sleep. You used to be inside of me!" My mind is blown considering that moment. So for now, I'll just look at Henry and try to quell my impatience for a little while longer.

Finally...sort of...

So we've finally gotten around to a few more of the "finishing touches" on the nursery. Yes, I know. The baby may not be here just yet, but it's certainly taken far longer than I thought to keep working on the nursery. The two glaring inadequacies were:

1) A lack of a finished window treatment.
2) The framed pictures sitting useless on the floor.

It was time to fix both of those. A quick few seconds with the hammer and two nails dealt with those pictures easily enough:

Next task was to fit a shade to the window. I had my lovely neutral (and cheap!) curtains from John Lewis, but those still let in so much light at mid-day that afternoon naps could prove to be something of a problem. Plus, there were still gaping holes from the previous window fitting (remember the creepy 80s curtains?) that desperately needing covering up. Witness: the before shot...

Okay, so you can't see the holes above the window in this shot, but trust me when I say that they're pretty obvious in real life. Luckily, we made another trip to B&Q today for this and a few other project supplies (briefly milking the minimal suspense...), so I came home with this solution to my overlit nursery problem:

We wanted to have another colour in the room besides just the predominant yellow and green, and this seemed like the best chance to introduce a new hue to the crew. (Yeah, I went there...I'm a dork. Don't tell me you expected anything less.) We were trying to decide between the nice shade of teal above and a navy blue. I'm sure the navy would have worked, too, but in the end my gut instinct won out. It's the sort of thing you have to check, though. I would have felt worse if we'd bought it simply on my knee-jerk reaction (Hi, I love all things teal/cerulean/aquamarine), so I had to make sure my rash judgement was still the best option. It was. Eh, I'm just that good. ;-)

The instructions were simple enough: drill holes, hammer in Rawl plugs, screw the screws, slide on the fittings, fit in the blind, and voilà! Updated window fitting that adds another colour to the nursery colour scheme.

(Sexy husband to help with all the measuring and drilling not included in rolling blind installation kit.)

And in the end, the result was just what I was hoping for. I'm getting much better at this whole visualization thing, I think.

Eventually, I'll have to start updating the rest of the house, because this room is ridiculously colourful compared to the rest of our drab white walls.

Oh, and I had another addition to our baby things show up in the post the other day!

So you can't tell because the picture is tiny and I've blurred out my address to deter any Interwebz stalkers, but this is from my lovely friend Sarah, who decided that I needed a good way to laugh about pregnancy and baby-handling.

Hmm...I wonder what could be in Sarah's mysterious box of wonderous baby-themed presents...

Turns out that the best way to laugh is with some witty cartoons mockingly instructing you on the best way to take care of yourself and the baby through pregnancy and infancy:

Thanks, Sarah! We had a good laugh over these at the dinner table when Seb got home from work the day they arrived.

Oh, and for everyone who's been wondering, I have actually bought something for my baby (besides a place to sleep and stuff to travel safely): we got onesies today! I love that I don't have to feel guilty any more ogling the baby clothes aisle in stores; I can officially cave (at least in small measure) to the cuteness of onesies and tiny shoes and little dresses and leg warmers for chubby little baby legs! (Deep breaths...if I'm not careful this baby will have a bigger wardrobe than Paris Hilton...)

If you can resist this, you have no soul.

Here Comes the Rain

What with the rain today and all the Back to School talk, it officially feels like autumn over here in the UK. Seriously: summer has long passed: I don't care if it's still August according to the calendar. We've had a pretty crap summer here anyway, as far as nice sunshine and summery weather goes. So I have no qualms about forsaking a lacklustre summer for the abundant joys of autumn. Especially when it means I can start stalking the hell out of every store's upcoming knitwear collections.

Let's face it, I'm not one to pass up an opportunity for new clothes, and the upcoming fall season affords me twice the usual incentive to fill out the gaps in my wardrobe.
1) The weather is changing, so I need to see what I have in the way of layerable clothes that are still in a fit state to be worn in public. (Alas, I think this discounts my holey boots.)
2) I'll be giving birth at the end of October, so the time for generously spacious maternity clothes is rapidly coming to an end. No use in investing in much more maternity wear until I'm pregnant again (which, since I'll get my way - because my way is the Husband's way - won't be for another 2 years or so).

The imminent return of something resembling my old body shape has me all kinds of excited to go buy some new clothes to show it off. Who cares if my uterus takes its sweet time shrinking back to size? With the lovely phenomenon of fall layering, I can hide my baby pooch under chunky cardis and sweaters of all shapes and sizes for months. Which means most people won't even know it's there at all, and by the time that spring bring about lighter fabrics and fewer layers, I'll have enough of my pre-pregnancy tummy to flaunt it without fear.

In the meantime, I'm going to get all a-twitter (I love that phrase) for cable knit and fair isle and corduroy, and scheme and plot my way through all kinds of seasonal DIY projects. I am a self-diagnosed Christmas fiend. From high school through college, whenever I came home, I was the Christmas Nazi. If the tree wasn't up, I made sure that furniture got re-arranged to accommodate it. If anyone even hinted that such a project as a cranberry-and-popcorn garland was on the radar, I was revving the car engine to go raid the store's supplies of Orvile Redenbacher and Ocean Spray.

And since I don't have to make Thanksgiving dinner on my own this year, I can channel what creative energies I have left after keeping my baby alive and fed (and clean) into making autumnal wreaths, candle holders, and table decorations.

Thankfully, Seb is just as much into the whole rustic aesthetic around the holidays as I am. I'm glad to have married a guy who will not only support, but instigate trips to farmer's markets and nature walks where we can scavenge pinecones, ivy vines, and holly boughs to toss around our house in true festive fashion. Just you wait for the pictures. It's my first set of end-of-year festivities as a mommy, so I'm setting the bar high for our family when it comes to how we roll from September to January.

Passing By

It seems like time is starting to go by a quite the breakneck pace lately. Of the standard 40 weeks of pregnancy, I'm officially in week 30. That's 3/4 of the way finished (unless baby does me a favour and comes a week or two early!). I have 3 weeks until I sing at Austin's wedding and 4 weeks until my driving test. I've always used my sister's birthday as a benchmark for when the summer was pretty much over, and since she became fully legal yesterday, for me, summer is rapidly wrapping up.

Don't get me wrong, that's a lovely feeling. As much as I enjoy the summer, autumn is - hands down - my favourite season of the year. I love watching the leaves change and the cooler weather (time to break out all my cute scarves and sweaters!) and that distinct, yet indefinable "autumn smell" that permeates the air. Plus, since this is now the second year in my life where autumn doesn't mean Back to School, I can continue to enjoy it in much the same way as I enjoy the summer.

The other insane reason I know that time has been shuffling on? I've now officially been pregnant for half of my married life. Creepy. Thankfully, that average will significantly decrease pretty soon (by the end of the year or so), but with only 14 months of wifey-time under my belt so far, they split quite evenly between "growing a baby time" and "normal time". And yeah - this will probably be the only time that the percentages work out that way. We're both slightly creeped out by the idea of spending more time gestating than you do being free to sleep on your back, eat soft cheese, and not have random strangers molest your midsection.

That does not need to be my family. It's not my ambition to birth an entire orchestra, soccer team, or a large a cappella group.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not judging all large families: my own mom was one of 13 kids (try imagining family dinners!), I'm just saying that I don't enjoy being pregnant so much that I want to do it all the time as much as I can. Besides, how minted do you have to be able to afford raising that many kids!? I get that some people really enjoy children and having a huge family, I just question when it starts to become like people who have piercings or tattoos all over because they just enjoy it so much they can't stop.

Say it with me now: "Psychological disease!"

I mean, seriously. I know that some people (including, I believe, the Duggars, whose family I pictured above) take the line of reasoning: "God gave me the ability to have babies, so I'm going to have as many as I can until I can't have them any more." Fair enough: celebrate your reproductive capability. It's an awesome power to create new life. But saying: "I can, so I'll do it until I have to stop" is like saying, "My body can tolerate alcohol, so I'm always going to drink until I'm blackout and can't physically drink any more." It's the sort of reasoning that can rationalize all sorts of what I call PLDs: Poor Life Decisions.

Lesson for the day? Moderation in all things. Whether it's beers or babies or body art.

In the meantime, I'm going to wait impatiently for the email that tells me when our antenatal classes are supposed to start. I registered for those things ages ago when my midwife gave me the email address and I've had nothing but radio silence ever since. Get with it, NHS! I know you're free, but you don't have to get all "you get what you pay for..." with your services. I mean, I don't feel significantly unprepared, but if I have this baby before I hear back about the classes I signed up for, that's a pretty shabby job. You don't get much more lame train than that.

Pinterest Round-Up

Despite the fact that sometimes it feels like filler when I can't think of anything else to write, I do enjoy pulling up my favourite internet finds that I've posted to my Pinterest boards. Things that I want to make/buy, things I just love the look of...just a general collection of inspiration for various projects or wardrobe updates and the like.

I know that some people aren't huge DIY'ers. If we're being honest - I'm not either. Don't get me wrong, if I had the budget for it, I'd DIY quite a few more things...
(Repaint the bathroom, install a new shower curtain system, paint the bedroom, make a baby quilt, create some fun Christmas decorations for the rest of the house [not just the tree]....the list goes on.)
But, generally speaking, it's not like I live to craft or anything. Making cutesy useless projects or nick-nacks is not my idea of a good time. Maybe I'm still detoxing from the hideous collection of unnecessary vases in our last apartment, but the idea of buying up, or (even worse), spending the time to make things that are just going to sit around catching more dust for me to clean just isn't an appealing project.

I like decorating things - it was my favourite part of being the director of the International Flair fashion show back at Wake my senior year - but I don't like extraneous tat. What qualifies as "tat"?, you may find yourself asking. Lucky for you, I have some clear ideas on that front!

1. Vases that don't hold anything. WTF?
2. Ornamental fake grass bundles. Y'all know what I'm talking about.

3. Tiny figurines. Don't get me wrong, some of these things can be cute, but I've never met a figurine so cute that I had to take it home to stare at on my shelf all the time. And please, for Heaven's sake, don't put it on a little lace doily. This, to me, screams "I'm a little old lady who thinks anyone under the age of 45 is a small child who appreciates small handfuls of warm candy from my pocket."
4. "Inspiring" quote wall decals. Okay, so these don't technically collect dust, but again: I've never found a quote so incredibly inspiring that I needed it in 4"-tall letters on my living room wall to read every time I watch TV, read a book, or entertain company. And let's not forget just how asinine and un-original most of these sorts of quotes actually are. Examples?

Anyone else choking back a tidal wave of vomit yet?

With all those things in mind, here are some of my favourite finds on my Pinterest boards from the past few weeks. (I think I need a style pallet-cleanser after all those bland, insipid, and saccharine-sweet decals...)

a nice way to have a collection of something and still keep in on display, but out of the way.

a fun art idea that you could either buy on Etsy, or make yourself with left-over paint and some MDF.

A stripey ceiling and a dark teal accent wall seem pretty brazen to me, but I think if you're ballsy enough to do it, you could pull it off. Also, I love the Alexander Calder-like mobile over the crib.

I like anything that lets me look cute while feeling lazy.

Take away the Buddy Holly hipster glasses, and I'm all over this look.

A sparkly tank and bright cardy to dress up some jeans? This right here is my jam. And easy way to be comfy and not look like a bum. (Or in my soon-to-be case, to not look like you got 3 hours of sleep and can't find any clothes without spit-up on them.)

Sigh. I can only imagine what sort of zombie-fied look I'll be sporting in the first weeks after this baby arrives! If you get really morbidly curious, I may be tempted to share the horror after a while.

Finishing Touches

Yesterday, I mentioned how the Husband and I made a run to Ikea on our way out to Mersey Island. Let me say, it wasn't just for the Swedish meatballs and lingonberry sauce. Nope, the main reason we made what was apparently the perilous trek into Croydon was to grab three key items for the house that we just hadn't gotten around to earlier.

1. A second light to fix under the cabinets in the kitchen for some cheap DIY recessed lighting. Snazzy.
2. The cover to our couch. Silly us, we didn't realise it didn't come in the box with the actual couch. Now, at least, our couch doesn't have awkward velcro securing points hanging out all over the place.
3. Most importantly (though the couch cover runs a close second): clothes storage for the nursery! One of the last things it needed (besides sheets and things).

The thing with our nursery is that it already has quite a bit of storage...just not storage that's useful for baby things. We have two Billy bookcases in there that are holding important files and food storage. The problem is, with all that stuff sitting on the bookcases, there really isn't any room for boxes full of cloth diapers and towels and sheets and baby clothes. Bummer. So we decided that we needed something else that would fit into the room that could be specifically designated Baby's Storage Unit. This was what we came up with:

Well...mostly. It's the Trofast system from Ikea. The version we got was about twice as tall and only had one column of buckets. Considering the small space we have to work with, we wanted something that would make the smallest footprint possible on the floorspace. You can judge for yourself how well that turned out:

Yes, there are bags of crisps hiding in the bottom drawers for now, but that will change. In the meantime, I think this provides enough space to stash baby towels, onesies, dresses/trousers, sweaters, hats, tiny socks, little leg warmers for chubby baby legs...the cuteness is starting to overwhelm me just thinking about it. Baby clothes are a dangerous abyss to fall into.

Anyway, now that baby's storage unit is all set up (thanks to a very helpful Husband/soon-to-be-daddy), this is the sum of what our nursery now looks like:

The picture makes everything look a bit yellower than it actually appears in real life. This is because I took all these pictures around 9 o'clock last night with no daylight to help out my camera's white balance. Nonetheless, I'm pretty pleased with how things are turning out. That's right, turning, not have turned. Oh yeah: this baby is still a work in progress.

As we can see, I still haven't gotten around to hanging up the two prints I framed ages ago. Those seem to be both the first and last things I'll get done for the room. Also, though it won't be a problem immediately, we know that our little munchkin will start crawling around one day. That day will be the warning to institute more baby-proof storage...the Billys will need doors on them to keep our little bundle of joy from pulling things off the shelves. I don't want to discover what it would do to my blood pressure to come into my child's room and discover that s/he had yoinked some bags of flour off the shelves and proceeded to "make it snow" indoors. Funny as those pictures would be, I think that's a situation I'd like to avoid having to clean up after. Luckily, Ikea makes doors for its Billy bookcases, so all is well in the world.

In the meantime, I'd like to find something to do with these:

I've been collecting fabric samples from my new-found love, Prestigious Textiles. My initial thoughts had been to make curtains. Then it was to make a Roman blind for the window. Then it was to make fabric boxes to put on the Billys so I could store baby things. Thanks to the Trofast, that last idea has been binned for the moment, and I'm now searching for a use for my lovely swatches. I'm thinking of framing 2 or 3 of them. That black and gold dandelion pattern would look pretty awesome hanging over my Poang chair. And I'm obsessed with the gorgeous blues in that swatch on the top right. Decisions, decisions. At least once Austin's wedding and my driving test have blown over (I am counting the days!) I can still count on tiny projects like this to keep me occupied until my little monster's arrival. My next project will probably be something for our bedroom, though. Aside from a new lampshade to match the sage curtains I lurve so much, I haven't done anything for it in ages. I still need a hook to hang my hat & necklaces, and some artwork on the walls wouldn't go amiss, either. Oh the ideas...

If a tree falls in the forest...

So if a vacation happens, or a funny thought occurs, and I don't blog about it; does it count? In fact, it does. My friends, there is a glorious world that can still be found outside of the reaching clutches of Teh Interwebz. Don't get me wrong, the net is not a malevolent behemoth reaching out with soul-sucking tentacles of death to ensnare you for life, chained to a desk in the basement laughing at pictures of cats and playing Farmland as you stalk the people you used to know in the real world on Facebook and get your groceries delivered through a hole in the door thanks to the convenience of online shopping. At least...I hope it's not a tentacled behemoth with the intent to render me useless in an effort to take over the world. If it is, we're screwed. Just look at this Allie Brosh cartoon to amusingly and cruelly prove my point:

See what I mean?

But, I figured that - for those of you with whom I can now only communicate through that wiley contraption of the World Wide Web - I'd remind you that I don't actually spend all my time in front of the screen with a convenient wi-fi point to plug into. Otherwise, how would I have time to experience the things I complain about? Or do the crafty household projects I photograph and describe to you? Or make that baby I keep rambling on and on about? (Perhaps I should stop my list here...)

Anyway, this glorious world that exists away from my computer is the reason I haven't blogged for a few days. The Husband and I were away with the In-Laws spending some quality time on the east coast of England. Mersey Island, to be exact. Of course, as an American, I'm quite snobbishly particular about the sorts of beaches that qualify as decent beaches (read: England doesn't have them), but - to be fair - we did manage to find quite a good beach one day. It even had golden sand...also a lot of rocks and tiny bugs, but the golden sand and sea shells were a good place to start! We visited the oldest church still working in the country - set up in 654AD. (This, of course, involved several silly moments in which we even roped my father-in-law into joining in on some mock-Gregorian chanting. We're nothing if not juvenile and entertaining.)

Pictures, I promise, will be forthcoming. It's just that I kept forgetting to bring the camera, and my father-in-law being the enthusiastic amateur photographer that he is was much better-equipped with his lovely SLR to take all kinds of snazzy photos during all of our exploits. These exploit included what I must, as a Marylander, shockingly admit is my first experience going crabbing. Incidentally, it was Seb who was the champion crab-catcher of the family; having the patience to reel in some impressive hauls of crustaceans during our outing.


Highlight of the trip out? Getting tasty food and the last of our nursery furniture (!) at Ikea in Croydon.
Highlights of the time there? Crabbing, and a scathingly humorous viewing of Twilight and New Moon. I confess, I gave in to my morbid curiosity and sat down with The Husband, Felicity, and Emily to watch and mercilessly critique the cinematic mediocrity that is the brain child of Stephanie Meyers. We had a hilarious time picking it apart and finally discovering what all the fuss was about. I could go on at length about the missed opportunities to make a good piece of fiction...but I'll save that for another time. ;-)
Highlights of the trip back? Seeing first-hand some of the damage caused by the lawless idiocy and opportunism of the London riots. The Sony building up in Enfield was still smoking furiously when we drove past on the M25.

Other highlight? High-fiving my baby. Oh yeah; Piggly Wiggly is now big enough that I can tell which appendages are poking me where...and we snagged our first ever High Five around my belly button as we drove back home.

More updates tomorrow. As for now; time to get back into my normal at-home routine! Prepare for more entertainment to spew forth again from this corner of the blogosphere.