Jeff and I tore up the apartment on Saturday and reorganized like crazy. We dropped off a box of unused office supplies down the street, where our block party organizers were collecting school supplies for less fortunate families, we put unwanted household item items to the curb, and like magic, someone claimed them right away. Jeff cleaned up all the cables and wires, and hung the wall decals in the baby’s room.
Okay, so let me re-phrase that, while Jeff tore up the apartment and put it back together again, I walked around directing him like a traffic cop and made snacks (mostly for myself).
On Sunday, we rented a ZipCar and drove out to Long Island's BabiesRUs and Buy Buy Baby to pick up some additional baby supplies using our gift certificates and cash in some coins ($170.00 worth). Conveniently, there was a Wendy’s right next door to Buy Buy Baby, which we both agreed, must be some sort of joint venture similar to the agreement between Dunkin Donuts and Baskin Robin’s. This was confirmed, as another pregnant lady and her man had the same idea we did, and sat right next to us as we took our lunch break. Trying to figure out the difference between 20 types of nipple shields and breast pump tubes is exhausting. If you can make it through any one of these baby mega stores without getting in a fight or losing your shit, you, at the very least, deserve a Frosty.
Once we got back to our apartment, we set up the baby’s room the best we could, given the main attraction, the crib, won’t arrive for another week or so. I think it looks great, but it’s hard to imagine what it will be like when the real-life main attraction, Little Rigs, arrives. At this point, it’s all so conceptual. Which I guess is a good thing, because, as I shut the door to keep Zeke, from turning the changing table into her new bed, the door locked and the knob fell off. I couldn’t open the door and it took Jeff about 5 minutes and several tools to open it up again. I was laughing, but I’m sure I would have been crying like a baby if there were a crying baby in there. Jeff turned the knob around, so at least one of us will be stuck in the room with the baby, should the knob fall off again. Obviously, we should replace the knob altogether, which I added to my “tell someone else to-do list”.
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| It's adult-proof! |
Also, this is how I felt yesterday:
34 weeks pregnant + city + summer = Ashley’s ass kicked
Here’s why:
It took me twice as long to get ready in the morning. I had no clean, comfortable underwear and had to choose between a lacy thong, boy shorts that barely cover one half of one cheek or Jeff’s boxer briefs. I had two clean work-appropriate shirts to choose from; one was ¾ length and knew I would have pit stains by the time stepped off my stoop. The only other choice, was once cute, but is now a mid-drift baring cropped-top. I made it work, by wearing a long tank underneath.
I thought it was going to rain, so I wore rain boots with intentions of changing into nice sandals that I keep at work. Um, well, those didn’t fit my swollen feet. Neither did the cute pair of flats I also keep there. I wore my rubber, heat-flash-inducing boots around the office like an idiot. The boots were wet with sweat, not rain, when I took them off.
When I went to the bathroom late in the afternoon, unbeknownst to me, as I sat down on the toilet, my shirt ties dipped into the water, which I proceeded to pee all over. At that point I decided to take my next conference call from home, so I could wipe my brow and change into some clean clothes that fit.
At the end of the day, when I walked into the living room and Jeff saw my face, he asked, “do you want an O’Doul’s? “ What I really wanted was a margarita on the rocks, but surprisingly, O’Doul’s did the trick.
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