5 months and counting

2 Things that need doing:

The Carpet - This has been a comedy of errors ever since we picked 2 colors and one of them didn't exist anymore.  Well, purple exists as a rule, but not in the texture and thickness we want.  This led to a miscommunication about when the carpet would be installed.  We picked a replacement color and were just informed that THAT color doesn't exist either. Finally, frustrated because our house is inside-out, we said, "DO IT ALL IN BLACK. DO YOU HAVE ENOUGH OF THAT?"  Still waiting for the return phone call. Le sigh.

Baby Registry - I've been dreading this.  I know most new moms adore this part because it involves shopping.  I don't mind shopping, but I feel completely clueless about what I really need and what stores and the media THINK I need.  I will require a sherpa for this particular task, and my friend K has generously volunteered to help me.  Again, schedule coordination is needed because her new boss is a super-demanding 1-year-old. 

Nestrocious

I had no idea that the act of "nesting" would involve so many sacks of garbage. 

Let me tell you a little something about myself.  I constantly attempt to minimalize, and I'm constantly fighting my desire to acquire things.  My mother was an avid stuff-lover.  She had a deep, artistic spirit that saw beauty and potential in things and people.  Things had personalities.  I don't see that in things, but I loved my mother and I loved that aspect of her personality.  Because of that, I find it tremendously difficult to discard things she loved, even though she's not around to appreciate them anymore.  I have no fewer than 10 plastic tubs of china, milk bottles, and various knickknacks that belonged to my mother, her mother, and her grandmother.  I doubt they have much monetary value attached to them, but they're heirlooms and I'm a prisoner to them.  Here's an example of a couple of treasured decorations:

My own stuff, however, I'm not nearly as attached to.  I recently got rid of about half my clothes.  I didn't do this because I'm pregnant.  I did it because I'm 36 and some of those cute little outfits that I wore in my 20s might fit me again, but at my age, will make me look like I'm trying too hard.  My time for mini-skirts has come and gone.  I got rid of 2/3 of my yarn stash and most of my sewing fabric.  There's no room to sew, really, and I'm done with cheap yarn forever.  I'd have to say, in the past two weeks, I've substantially reduced my possessions.  However, there's still TONS of stuff lying around and I'm very unhappy about it.

Something's going to have to give because we have 650 sq ft to live on, and a baby on the way. 

198 square feet

We're getting new carpet.  Not for the whole house, just for the two small rooms.  That's a good thing because the carpet we have is old, knarly, and making me sneeze.  We picked purple for the bedroom, and "cosmic black" for the media room.  We're going through Costco, so we're pretty confident that we'll get a good deal.  Also, the cats approve of the samples.  Target audience, right?

That's all there is, there ain't no more.

So, I'm married.  Mostly.  I still have to drop the license off at the courthouse, but it's signed. So, married.

D and I discussed it thoroughly.  He doesn't want a circus, and I don't want to spend money, so there will be no wedding.  I'm talking NO WEDDING.  No rings, no cake, no dress, no ceremony, the end.

But we needed our friends to sign the license, so A was our officiant, and K was our witness.  A, in his lovable way, insisted on "officiating," and asked if D took me as his "lawful wedded husband." To which he said, "I do." We laughed, fist-bumped and cheered gay marriage.  So, as non-weddings go, I would say it was a success.

Now I just have to go through the rigmarole of changing my last name.  Frigging, SIGH.

n.b. I wore my red t-shirt showing cats playing Settlers of Catan. Dave wore a black t-shirt with a Wanted poster of Schrodinger's Cat (wanted dead & alive).

It was all his idea...

On Christmas day, my partner D, and I surprised our family (and our friends) with some big news: I'm 14 weeks pregnant.  D wanted to suprise both sets of parents by putting a little photo of the 13-week sonogram in a box, wrapping it, giving it to the parents, and watching the recation.  He wanted a 'Mass Effect." I didn't have a better idea, so I just went with it.

We told my Dad and his wife first.  They were properly surprised.  I think my Dad was a little shocked.  I'm not sure why.  He's already got 2 granddaughters.  But maybe he wasn't as overwhelmed as I thought.  I often misinterpret the reactions of others.  Damn it, Jim, I'm an accountant, not a psychologist.

We told D's family after that.  What a difference.  You'd think a bomb went off.  There was screaming. There was crying.  I was hugged by strangers.  I'm pretty sure D and I were the only ones who didn't cry.  After that experience (oh, and a barrage or unwanted advice), I wanted to go the gym and run a mile just to work off all the adrenaline still coursing through my veins.  I went through every breathing exercise I could think of to stave off the impending panic attack. 

Back at home, I performed Stage 3 of the 'big reveal:' Facebook.  That was much more rewarding and involved no touching.

So, here's a picture of our offspring-in-progress at 13 weeks.  I've always been rubbish at interpreting sonogram pictures, so I had to ask the nurse, "What's the crescent thing by its head?" That would be a hand.  Cute, right?

So, finally, I present our current pregnancy FAQ list 

Q: Are you getting married?
A: Maybe. We're thoroughly committed to each other, but we're not completely sure the institution of marriage is for us.  On that note, if we do get married, there will definitely not be a wedding.

Q: If you get married, are you changing your name?
A: Yes. I wasn't going to at first, but since I'm having a family, complete with kid, I think it would simplify a lot of daily details if we all had the same last name.

Q: What's your due date?
A: June 22nd 2014

Q: Do you know the baby's sex?
A: Nope. We don't know. We're going to be as surprised as everyone else when it's born.

Q: Do you want a boy or a girl?
A: I keep switching.  I only have sisters, so sometimes I think I'd be more secure raising a girl, but I have friends with baby boys, and they're awesome too.

Q: Do you have any names picked out?
A: Nope. We haven't even had that conversation...well, not any serious conversation.  There have been a lot of non-serious conversations about joke names.

Q: Are you going to quit your job?
A: Nope.  Can't afford to.  We'll figure out some form of child care so that D and I are able to keep working. 

Q: Was this planned?
A: More or less.

Late Night Decisions

I haven't had a blog since livejournal.  I never posted to it regularly, and when I did, I was pretty embarrassed by what I'd written.  Of course, that was more than 10 years ago, and a lot of those issues have long since fallen by the wayside. 

Also, my life has recently taken some very interesting turns for the dramatic, the committed and the long-term.  If you're truly interested, stay tuned. 

Presently, I live in a little cabin on a little chunk of property in a little mountain town in central California with my partner and four cats.  We've been here together for about four years.  I call it the Creepy Compound because of how it looks.  Our cabin is next to the main house where my partner's brother and brother's girlfriend live. There are pick up trucks, a tractor, storage sheds, and a crazy amount of tools lying around.  To say it looks rustic would be charmingly generous.  It could be a convincing spot to film a horror movie, really.  And my partner could be a character in it.  You know, the old guy with a beard who warns the stupid teenagers, "Don't go down that road. Lotta history down that road."

To add to the charm, is a large automatic gate that says KEEP OUT.  We don't get any Jehovah's Witnesses. 

I've been tempted once or twice to walk around the property wearing a prairie dress to freak out the neighbors.  I haven't done that, but one spring, I did dig a patch of earth to plant a garden.  It looked less like a garden and more like a place where bodies were buried. 

So, I've named it The Creepy Compound.  I live here.