Last weekend, Ivan and I (but mostly Ivan) went through that storied rite of passage of first time parents- the assembling of the baby's crib. I cannot accurately express to you just how happy and excited this made me. First, as I have previously mentioned, our amazingly generous parents surprised us by buying us our crib and mattress. As I have also mentioned, the delivery of said crib was a cause of much frustration and stress for me. We finally were able to coordinate after three unsuccessful attempts at delivery when the UPS driver actually called me from the road to confirm he'd be there in 20 minutes and I confirmed that my husband would be home. I was beside myself with joy when our crib was finally in our home- in a large box that sat in our living room- for two weeks.
Ivan had told me that he was going to set it up on the morning of the Super Bowl, while I was singing at church. Lo, and behold, when I came home, excited both to see the crib and to put on my custom made maternity Giants shirt, I was greeted immediately by the sight of the large cardboard box, untouched, still in our living room. Incredulous that Ivan had skipped church to worship at the alter of FIFA (his current favorite Play Station game) I went on a mission to find him. Surprisingly, he was not on the couch, still in his pj's, but was out of the house at Home Depot (still in his pj's). When he arrived home a few minutes later, he asked me-beaming with pride- if I had noticed the work he had done around the house. Ummm.... All I could think (and gratefully did not complain out loud about) was that the crib was no closer to being a crib than it was a week and a half ago. But Ivan led me upstairs to show me what he had been up to: changing the outlet and light switch plates for the entire house.
Let me tell you, ladies, he was quite pleased with himself- nay, overjoyed with himself and the look of the new outlets. He seemed a little miffed that I wasn't more excited about it myself. Don't get me wrong- they are very nice new outlet covers- they look really good. It's just that outlet plates are probably the last thing that I'd ever notice about a house, ever. Especially if the house had a gorgeous crib in an exquisitely decorated nursery. But clearly, the old plates had really been disturbing Ivan for quite some time and he was exceedingly proud, having banished the demons of the offensively plain outlet covers. Phew.
Now, Ivan has been working insanely hard at his job for weeks now. He is always a hard worker, but lately he's been killing himself burning the candle at both ends. So, as a good wife and a generally decent person, I knew better than to start nagging him about the crib. Even though I was chomping at the bit to have it all set up, we were still 12 weeks (hopefully!) out and I knew it would get done in good time. So I enjoyed our new light switch plates for the rest of that week.
Then I enjoyed all of the new door handles on all of our upstairs doors and closets that Ivan decided needed to be changed. Then I enjoyed all of the new hardware on the kitchen cabinets in our basement. Yes, that's right- Ivan has become Customer of the Month at Home Depot- improving the aesthetic quality of our home one knob at a time. He also decided that we were in desperate need of new curtains in the guest bedroom/Ivan's office. So off to Bed Bath and Beyond we went. He chose new fixtures and rods and ordered fancy new curtains which came in two days ago and- ready for this? He ironed and hung them himself. Yesterday. While on business phone calls all day.
You must understand- up to this point, Ivan has claimed fear and ignorance of the iron. The day before his business trips would find him begging me for last minute touch-ups on his favorite shirt. So what this proves is that he was really, really, really excited about these curtains. Because, let's be honest- ironing curtains is the sort of punishment they should reserve for the worst kinds of criminals. Seriously. For my tax dollars, I should be able to ship off my drapes to the local prison and have them delivered back, clean and starched. But now, apparently, that isn't necessary because my husband has become Billy Homemaker overnight and is sure to be trading good housekeeping tips with my Grandma, who might be the only other person in the world who I don't think minds ironing curtains.
Isn't it funny that the nesting phenomenon has hit Ivan maybe even harder than it has me? Not that I've been a slug in this area myself, it's just that I'm limited in my ability to actually "nest." More like I can burst into tears at a moments notice at the thought of being unprepared for this baby. But now that crib is assembled (I took pictures as Ivan sweat it out- it was the cutest thing ever!), the curtains are up, and the adorable wall decor is hung there is not much to freak out about. On the contrary, there is a lot to go into the room, clasp my hands and spin around with a ridiculously silly grin on my face about. I mean, the room is just the most darling thing I've ever seen. I can't wait for you all to see it. There are no more boxes of stuff to unpack- it's just a waiting game now! Sometimes I go into the room and try to picture Baby H at various stages in his or her crib: as a tiny newborn, all swaddled up, as a growing baby, pulling him or herself up and peeking over the edge at me, as an emerging toddler for whom we'll need to lower the base to contain him or her.
Speaking of picturing the baby- I had another dream about the baby. This time there was just one (thank goodness!) and Ivan and I were meeting my Nanny at a giant produce market to go shopping when I realized that I hadn't fed Baby H in about 3 days. No doubt, my subconscious is accessing my family's accusations of me starving my pet hamster to death when I was 11. I maintain that Buttons had the flu. However, clearly I have been traumatized by the mere implication that I might not have cared for my pet as well as I should have and now I'm terrified that Baby H is going to have a delinquent mother in me. Sigh.
In other news- I stopped at 7Eleven on my way home last weekend and when I brought Ivan's two bottles of Diet Coke to the counter, I was greeted by the kindly Indian man running the counter asking me, "How much longer?" It took me a few seconds to figure out what in the world he was talking about. Because obviously my coat functions as an Invisibility Cloak, ala Harry Potter and so others can't tell I'm pregnant when I'm in my outerwear. Or so I thought. Anyway, I thought it was semi-adorable that he was curious about the baby and it kept me smiling halfway home when he wished me luck with everything. I just love when people are nice.
In direct contrast to this lovely man was the Jerk at the Gym this morning. The pool was exceptionally crowded for 6am on a February morning and all but one of the five lanes already had two swimmers in it. So I, using proper swimmer's etiquette, waited until said man got to the end of the lane, caught his eye, and asked if he'd mind splitting the lane. (For the record, it is considered poor etiquette to ever refuse to share, it's basically just a formality to ask.) This guy was a little older than me- maybe in his 40's, but cut up. He was in excellent shape. So between that and the rolled eyes he gave me as he begrudgingly moved over, I could tell that he thought that this big-bellied, pregnant lady was totally going to cramp his style while he trained for the 2012 London games or something. I have to admit that I was a little nervous that in my condition I might flounder a little bit- it's getting harder and harder to do the things that only months ago felt like nothing. However, I am happy to report that I complete schooled this guy. I lapped him so many times that I was tempted to make it my Facebook status for the day. Something like, "Yes, rude man at the pool this morning who thought I'd be too slow to share a lane with, that was an 8 months pregnant woman who was kicking your butt, but don't feel bad. I had Baby H on my team and he or she has a a pretty powerful kick!"
So, in conclusion I guess, men are funny. Especially my Ivan. But I certainly can't complain, as not only is the nursery ready to go, but the house is beautifully lit (did I mention that he changed all of the recessed light bulbs in the house as well?) and has lovely door knobs and outlet covers. What more could a mommy-to-be ask for?
I adore this post!
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