Kitchen Redo

So, you'll remember we bought a new house and moved in March. We're digging it. First of all, it's ours. And second of all, we've made some changes that make it feel even more like ours. Of course it's a work in progress and likely will be as long as we live here, but it's cool to watch the transformation.

We spent the most energy on the kitchen, and that's the room with the most drastic difference. The house was built in 1989, and the kitchen was living proof. It was structurally sound and in pretty good condition, but it reminded me of the kitchen from the classic 80s sitcom Who's The Boss?. 

Yo, Angela! 

I had a vision of transformation, and it largely came true. Some of the work The Husband did himself, because he is that handy, and some of it we used a contractor for. Our contractor was a beautiful Hispanic woman who wore heels and said "I yam SO egg-cited foryoo!" And "The only thing is I yam worried about the cheetrock." She went easily back and forth speaking in English to us and Spanish to her subcontractors. The Boy was thoroughly impressed, and said she was like Dora. Yes, if Dora was thin and beautiful and wore heels instead of a belly shirt and bowl cut.

Here's the before shot. Oak cabinets, railroad trim at the top, blue countertops, white appliances, black fridge, and floral tiled backsplash. I We wanted lighter cabinets, a built-in pantry, updated countertops, and updated appliances.

Here's an action shot, with The Boy helping. 

And another.

And.........the before and after pics!

            (It's okay if you aren't as excited about this as we are. We get it, you don't live here.)

Before:

After:

Before:

After:

Before:

After:

I'm kind of in love with it. I think my favorite part is the new butcher block countertops which The Husband did himself. He ordered them from Lumber Liquidators and then cut, sanded, and finished them with mineral oil. There are still a few things to do, (and I may have a board on pinterest called "Things to Talk The Husband Into" which includes a small island) but it's basically finished! Tada!

I will be posting more house renovation pictures as we finish each room, or as I get them clean enough to photograph. 

Preparing for Parenthood: Pregnancy

Well, here we are in the 7th-ish month of my pregnancy with BeYoYo. While I'm no pro, this is my third pregnancy, sort of. I had a miscarriage before I had The Boy. Then, because The Husband and I didn't know yet that we are really good at getting pregnant (like, pass each other in the hall and we are pregnant) *blush*, we were immediately pregnant again. So if my pregnancy with The Boy felt like I was pregnant for a year straight, it's only because I was.  Now here we are again. So, while I'm no Michelle Duggar, I feel like I'm fairly familiar with the plight miracle of pregnancy. If you're considering this journey but aren't sure if you're ready, here are some simple steps to get you prepared.

How to Prepare Your Wife For Pregnancy

-Rent a circus elephant to sit on her chest and torso for five minutes. Once she can tolerate five minutes, work up to 12 hours a day. Have her work, clean, cook, or complete any normal daily activities with said elephant.

-Secretly invite over people who have (or who are recovering from) the stomach virus. You want your wife to be nauseated, vomiting, or on the verge of vomiting for about 6 hours a day for the first three months. If you want extra spousal points, offer to hold her hair back while she hangs over the toilet.

-While she is sleeping, replace 3/4 of her wardrobe with children's clothes. Start with a large children's size, so that they almost fit. Then, gradually replace them with smaller and smaller clothes until her closet is filled with toddler shirts and pants. All yoga pants can stay.

-If you can manage it, find a way to replace some of her joints with silly putty. This will ensure that the joints occasionally give out and she collapses to the floor upon standing. You should also practice not laughing when this happens.

-Find a way to injure her without her knowing. This injury should involve the lower back, and should last for 3-4 months. Shooting sciatic pain down one or both legs is also acceptable. If you prefer not to injure your spouse*, you can also install a 25 pound weight in her shirt to do the trick.

-At night time, elevate her head to reduce heart burn. Elevate her feet to reduce swelling. Have her lie on her side with a pillow between her knees to help with sciatica. You may need to hire a professional circus contortionist for consultations. See if you can get a package discount with the elephant. 

-Monitor her diet so that she can no longer have alcoholic drinks, sushi, bagged salads, certain fish, queso, Gorgonzola, feta, blue cheese, sprouts, or deli meats. Go to restaurants that serve many of these newly forbidden foods.

-When your wife gets up to pee in the night, you must ask in a panicked voice what's wrong and if she's ok. Never, ever assume she just needs to urinate more frequently, no matter how predictable the pattern.

The same thing we do every night, Pinky.

*I do not actually endorse injuring your spouse. 


How to Prepare Your Husband For Pregnancy

-Cry. There should be no algorithm for this. Just sprinkle some tears around throughout your day (and his) with no warning and no predictable pattern. Good reasons include the death of Martin Luther King, Jr., and your toddler pajama shirt not fitting over your belly.

-Eat. Eat a lot, and especially eat the last of anything your husband was looking forward to. If he asks what you'd like from the grocery store, declare you need wasabi and brownies. If he complains, this is an acceptable occasion to cry.

-Gradually take up more room in the bed. I'd recommend investing in a maternity pillow, which will make this task dramatically easier. Ideally, it should be as big as a full grown person, or two.

-If your partner asks what you did today, say you grew new arms and legs and supported another life. Ask what HE did today.

-Each time you dine out remind your husband which foods you cannot eat, as well as which foods make you nauseous, so that he won't forget the sacrifices you're making for your family. This is most effective if you do so while he's enjoying a beer and sushi. If you feel guilty, you may tell him how delicious the wasabi is.

-Begin to leave the milk in the pantry and the cereal in the fridge. If he questions you about this, remind him that you are busy sustaining new life and can't be responsible for EVERYTHING.

-Set an alarm to wake him up 3-4 times per night. Walk around your room, turn the bathroom light on, sigh loudly, and return to bed. Be irritated if your husband asks if you're okay. Be irritated if he doesn't wake up.

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That's it! After doing these activities for just 10 months (40 weeks = 10 months) you'll be prepared for pregnancy!

If these suggestions don't work, you may also try to simulate acid reflux, high blood pressure, swollen limbs, Braxton Hicks contractions, hives, poor body image, vaginal pain, acne, rhinitis, frequent urination, hemorrhoids, asthma, irritable bowel syndrome, alien embodiment, or general grouchiness. Just kidding, the grouchiness will come on its own.

Jesus

Happy Easter!
The Boy is having an existential crisis, I think. We are Presbyterians. One day as we pulled up to church he asked why there was a cloth hanging on the cross. Actually, I think he said "what's dat purple fing up der?" I told him that cloth means that we're getting ready for Easter. He was fine with that, and I assumed he'd forgotten about it.

Then two weeks ago he noticed it again. He asked me, very seriously, if that was the Easter bunny's pants up there. Well, no. I told him. What is it, then? He asked. Hmmm. We went to find our children's minister Mrs. Soup (aka Mrs. Sue) and she explained to him very simply that the cloth is like what Jesus wore and helps us remember Jesus and that he loves us. Why didn't I think of that?  In his defense, it would explain the mystery of why the Easter bunny never has on pants. They're on the cross. So that's solved.

The Boy wanted to go to "the big class" aka worship on Easter Sunday because he wanted to hear the horns. We let him come for the first part and then sent him to his class to play. Our church also does this really cool thing on Easter where all the windows are covered with black fabric, and then the fabric is ceremoniously and symbolically removed during the first part of worship. The Boy asked why they were taking the curtains down, and I told him the only thing I could think of at the moment, that they were letting the light in, just like we let Jesus into our hearts.

 I wasn't comfortable telling my kid that Jesus died, or that he came back to life and that's what Easter is all about. All he knows about death relates to mama squishing a bug, and frankly, I think that's confusing and morbid to associate with Jesus right now. Hell, we're secretly on his third pet beta fish "Scoot" because death is complicated.  

On the way home he asked if our hearts have doors for Jesus to get in. The Husband told him yes. We are obviously not doing a great job of explaining things. 

  

                   

So yesterday on the way to school, I was talking to The Boy about not picking his nose because there are lots of germs in his body. His only response was "just like Jesus!" Well, yes. And no? I don't even know how to explain that. 

THEN he told me that "Jesus doesn't live in my friends' hearts because they don't go to church." I nearly hit the brakes in the car. I don't know where he got that idea, but it's something I have a real problem with theologically. Have I failed him so far spiritually? I tried hard to stay casual, and I told him that Jesus can live in anyone's heart, and they don't have to go to our church or any church. 

Easter pic


Suddenly I felt a lot of pressure to get this right. I mean, we're in charge of nearly everything he learns right now, everything he thinks about life and self and family and church and Jesus and love come from us. And he's curious, which means he might actually be listening when we answer. What I want him to know is that Jesus loves us, and that we need to love others. Everyone. Period. That's what I'm sure of, but there's a lot I'm not sure of too. What if he asks questions we don't know the answers to? We're already not winning at the basics. Plus, this whole Jesus thing doesn't make a lot of sense. How am I supposed to explain to a two year old that we worship one God, who is also three persons, one of which came to earth, then died, then came back to life, then went to Heaven and now lives in your heart and wants you to love others?

And what about others that think differently than we do? And what about giving him the chance to decide what he thinks for himself? And what about one day when he won't care what we say or think and will make up his own decisions anyway? I was starting to have my own existential crisis. 

In case you haven't noticed, I need to process things a lot. So I texted my friend Jill who just happens to be a minister, and happens to think my kid is cool. She lets him come to her house and pour out all the Legos and pretend to be Harry Potter and do all the things kids love to do. I told her all the things that The Boy had said. I told her I felt like I needed to know all the things about all the things so that I would know how to answer The Boy's questions. This is what she said. 

And there it is. 

And I'm sweetly schooled. Yes. Obviously, obviously it's about being okay with not knowing all the things about all the things, and just trusting. And for now, that means that my kid thinks the Easter bunny's pants are on the cross, and that Jesus is a tiny germ that lives in your heart, which has a door. And for now Easter means hunting eggs and dressing like one fourth of a barbershop quartet. To him, it makes as much sense as the real story and the real reasons. And even if these things don't completely make sense, he's trusting. And asking. 

Which might be more than I can say for myself some days. 

So let's hope he learns a little more along the way, and so do I. 

Amen. 

A Hearing Problem

I have a little bit of a hearing problem. It's not that I can't hear. It's more that I hear too much. Or too often. Or things that I'm not supposed to hear. The Husband calls it eavesdropping, which IT IS NOT, because I do not do it on purpose, mostly. But sometimes I am overwhelmed with hearing things that other people are saying and I cannot stop. I mean I guess technically I CAN stop if I try really hard, but well, that's hard.

So the other day I took The Boy to school and walked to the coffee shop to do some work on my computer. This is what I love about Athens: there is a coffee shop within walking distance, the kind of place where you can get some work done and do some people watching and see townies and stay at home moms and band guys all mingling in the same space. And the baristas are the perfect mix of charming and uninterested in you, and they talk to each other and tell jokes and stories, which I accidentally overhear.
-"My great-grandfather's name was Scrappy Harrison, and he was a train conductor. Isn't that the best name for a train conductor?"
-"No. That's the best name for ANYTHING."

I smiled to myself, got my chai and sat down to do some work. Boring insurance billing and invoicing and returning emails. I'm chai sipping and email returning, minding my own business when these two guys came in and sat at a table very close to me. Note: there were other tables available that could've given them some more privacy and they chose to sit close to me.

So the one guy looks like he worked very hard to look like he just got out of bed. He has on a Kurt Cobain inspired flannel shirt, opened, on top of a concert t-shirt. He has on jeans and boots. The other guy looks like Steven Tyler, and his hair is shorter but jealousy-inspiring. We made eye contact, did a polite, tight-lipped smile to acknowledge their presence, and I went back to my work.

A few minutes later their words started flooding me, even as I tried to work.
Something was happening.
A breakup.
I wouldn't have pegged them for a couple, but who knows.

Really esoteric. A lot of it is personal pressure.......A mistrust is a problem..... 

I remember one practice with Eric's group......that was real. 

Ah, maybe it was a band breaking up? That would be SO Athens. I am potentially overhearing history here. 

Even if we don't do that, I just want to do something. 
.....Moving forward.....Situation.....Not the right time....I'm not living as I'm capable. Respect that space..... 

Okay, maybe it IS a breakup. Maybe they are dissolving the relationship AND the band they have. Man, I was trying so hard not to listen. I was trying to work. Work, work, work.

You ok?....Just thinking.....Making more room for pursuing other things..... I've been finding myself gradually weaning myself over the past couple weeks..... No, I know what you're saying. 

Whatever is happening, one is clearly the breaker and one is the breakee. The breaker is trying to be sensitive. What raw emotion. Please, whisper....don't make me hear this. I am embarrassed for the breakee that I've heard his heartbreak and I simultaneously want to give him a hug. I want to tell him there are plenty of fish- and bands- in the sea.

I realized.... I'm bound.... Let me finish.... I've hit a roof.... Distance.... The longer I stay.... I could feel his negativity.... Not to get away. To develop. Put these childish things aside. 

Oh no. Now I've heard too much. If I get up they'll know I heard and it was awkward. If I stay, it's awkward. I'm inside their breakup. Oh, the throws of love! The emotion. The passion. The deep and vulnerable esoteric musings about life.

I'm not very well liked by the staff.....No, I understand....the kitchen...It would be hard to stay there.....


WHA? I just overheard a guy quitting his cooking job? With passion and emotion and sensitivity and vulnerability. Oh bless us all. I huff a sigh of relief. I am not in their breakup after all, mostly. And that's another thing I love about this city. People care about stuff. I don't know where they work(ed), but the next time I'm eating downtown I'm going to take a moment to reflect and wonder if as much passion went into my meal as went into conversations about kitchen staff changes....while I try not to overhear what the table next to me is saying. 

FAQs of this pregnancy

-When are you due? 

August. We're halfway there. Woohoo!

-Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?

Yes. The Boy will tell you here:

Part of me was hoping for a girl JUST so their blog names could be The Boy and The Girl. Iknowright? But alas, the little lass is healthy and we are all happy. 

-Have you been feeling okay?

Not really. I've been ultra nauseous this go 'round. I've puked at our new house, at nanny's house, at my niece's 5th birthday party, in a plastic bag in the car, at family Christmas, in the shower, in a church parking lot at a Christmas cantata, and once, with no warning, all over myself as I was driving down the road. One day I realized I was vomitting in the toilet with a Buzz Lightyear in my hand. I'm happy to say I think I'm getting past the  all day  morning sickness and nausea.

The Boy likes to stand outside the bathroom and narrate my vomitting. "Mama! You said 'blarg'......'blech'.....'gurg'" Then the Husband intervenes and says "mama doesn't feel very well. Let's leave her alone for a few minutes." This week The Boy came eagerly in the bathroom and said "I need to spit out a yucky." Then he fake spit and sputtered in the toilet, grinning, and turned to me and said "mama, can you weave me awone?" Gladly. 

-What does The Boy think?

He's excited. He's a little disappointed that the baby doesn't have a tail. He pats my belly and says "hey baby!", and one day looked into my belly button and said he saw a foot. He spontaneously talks about things he'll help the baby do, like play the guitar and walk down the stairs. He doesn't realize the two are related, but he's also excited that he's now allowed to drink "spicy water" aka Sprite, and eat pita chips for breakfast. In my bed. I don't think he knows how his life is going to change... Since the first day we told him he has consistently announced that the baby shall be named BeYoYo.

Me: Well, BeYoYo is a good nickname but me and daddy haven't decided yet what his name will be.
The Boy: But I already decided. BeYoYo.