The Iron Curtain

Similar to the Iron Curtain that divided Eastern and Western Europe, the wall that made up one of our living room walls (behind the couch) and separated it from the second bedroom, needed to come down.
For the good of the country, really.
Going.

Going.

Gone.

What is most critical here is that Dustin was right and I was wrong.
There, dude, I typed it. Happy? I worried that it would be "too much hassle" and not make much of a difference. I don't have a picture of me eating my words but I'll let the following do the work.
To reiterate, BEFORE...
View of living room

Views of second bedroom


AFTER...
View from original living room

View from old second bedroom

Over the River and Through the Woods...

... to grandmother's house we go!

Actually, since my mom moved back to Grants Pass over 2 months ago, the commute is SOOOO much better than the 8 hour drive it WOULD have been had she stayed in Tacoma. We are so grateful to have her near us again. I guess you have to be a grandma to understand the motivation and determination to move your entire life back to a town that you had left years before for a child that you haven't even met yet. I admire and appreciate that while still being bewildered by it. I guess I have 30 years or so to truly understand it. In the mean time, thank you, mom.

This is the three of us mama's on Mother's Day. This new baby is very lucky in that BOTH of the grandmom's live in the same town and within a mile of each other.

Excuses, Excuses, Excuses

You know that feeling you get when you have all of the ambition in the world but then realize that if you don't lay down right now your face may melt due to being overtired and overstressed? Nope, me neither. Just asking.
I'll keep it brief and use lots of pictures so it appears like I'm doing a really huge blog. In truth, I don't have a lot of time to type it all out because the dog is on fire (again) and the cat just barfed in the living room and someone is at the door.
This is what we've been up to since the last time I typed... over 2 months ago...
Creating the baby's room



Grandma Robbie painting

And more painting

CARPET! In our home! And, best part, it is clean and pretty.

Changing table? Check.

Crib? Check.

Week 34 and Still Going Strong

Not lookin' to shabby, I'd say. Dustin holds up well under the mounting pressure of becoming a father. I like how he is bending his knees to support his enormous belly. Nice touch.

Now, me on the other hand... this picture was taken 2 weeks ago and stuff has changed even in that brief amount of time. The baby is now gaining approximately an ounce a day which may not seem that significant. And I suppose it wouldn't be if the baby were, say, on the OUTSIDE of my body. But it isn't on the outside. It is in there moving, rolling, punching, and gouging away. What a fascinating and exhausting process.

Now that we are really drawing to a close on the pregnancy (just four weeks to go by the time I post this) I want to get a poll of who thinks we are having a boy or a girl and when they think it'll come. Post a comment on this, please, if you have the time. Just about every waitress in town thinks I'm having a boy but, as we have tested nearly all of the old wives tales, we are having a She-Him or Shim. The results are always inconclusive or, when tested for the second time, the opposite of the first results.

Crocs and the Woman Who Loves Them

Let us take a collective moment here and bow our heads in reflection of the glory of Crocs. I know, I know, I know. The original design can be sort of elfish-y meets raver meets garden whore. But have you gone past that one design and seen their website with wedges, narrow clogs, and ballet flats? Sadly, the last example has been discontinued but, as of my 29th birthday, have been enjoying a classic black pair that my eldest sister gave me. These shoes have seen me through trips to the store, all over work in different terrain, countless potty trips outside in the snow, rain, mud with Curt. From dress way casual to slightly fancy, these are the go-to shoe for me.
Anyone who knows me well knows that I am more than just a Crocs enthusiast. The Crocs folks should pay me for all of my free advertisement plugs since I've been enjoying the product for nearly 6 years now. The comfort is outstanding and, speaking from a massage therapists point of view, feel that it is the one shoe that bends in the 3 positions required for optimal spinal and reflexology health. They are nearly odor resistant, color fade proof, and Curtis indestructible. No, these are no Louis Vuitton. The Crocs are what you wear when you are NOT busy pretending to be Oprah.
The main point of this post is to tout yet another of the Crocs efficiencies. You can freshen up a Croc by throwing in the dishwasher. I've done it before but, if you've been keeping up, it's been over 5 years since my last in-house dishwasher luxury. So, I did it. I threw my ballerina flats in with the rest of the dishes last night.........
Not only are they completely odor free AND matte black again but THEY FIT LIKE THE FIRST TIME. Even better, perhaps. They've tightened up around the edges and hug my big ol' tranny feet just like they did over a year ago.
I am giving Crocs a standing ovation in my head now.
You should, too.

Gettin' His Hairs Did

I gave Curt a minimal trim around his eyes so we could confirm that he CAN, in fact, see us when we are training him. He, like most teenagers, likes to play the "I didn't see you waving me down" card by hiding behind his long hairs and ipod. Now he has bangs.

And, unlike Anthony Kiedis, I think it works for him.

The Bugina Monologues

As we sat filling out a birth plan that I had down loaded off the internets, Dustin and I were being schooled on the myriad of options that are available to us. The questions range from ambiance preference to induction rights. We were feeling rather comfortable until it came to the perineal care portion. Up to this point, the questions were answered with a "yes, that sounds fine" or a "no, we'd like to try to avoid that if medically possible". Now, we were finding ourselves in the there-is-no-way-to-avoid-this arena. The words tear, suture, repair, anesthesia, hot compresses, and the like were tossed about on the page as if someone had just sneezed and it wasn't any thing to get fussy about. After reading through and answering what seemed like the same statement, er, question, about the my procedure choice, I looked up at Dustin and said, "So. To be clear here, Dustin, we're discussing the options on HOW I would like to achieve a conjoined vagina/butt hole. Not HOW we would like to avoid that but, rather, HOW we want to get there. Because it's going to happen. This union of private parts. Is happening. To me. Period."