Jiggety-Jog

The worst part about vacation is the coming home. It's like the Sunday Blues multiplied by the days you were gone, plus the number of miles it took you to get home. It's compounded if you're driving. I call it the Home-Agian-Doldrums. I usually try to stem the tide by making sure we have clean laundry before we leave, and that things are not packed pell-mell into suitcases so that when we get home, the unpacking is as stress-free as possible. If we're driving, NPR helps, and having lots of snacks is always good too.

As you might suspect, my plan was thwarted in the largest of ways.

My darling baby has been fighting a rash for several days. The ride home was fractious, and although my oldest was helpful, the wee one just couldn't stay happy for long. This made listening to NPR rather near impossible, and much yoga breathing was necessary to keep my head from shooting straight off my body. And, perhaps to comfort himself, my eldest ate all the Chex Mix! Now that was just downright dirty. As were the grapes I packed, dirty I mean. Inedibly dirty.

Finally, upon arriving home, we were able to see a doctor - without breaking the bank. (Try finding a pediatrician in rural northern Michigan who's in your plan, or an Urgent Care for that matter.) And thankfully, it's nothing serious, just a bout of contact dermatitis, which means something we used on his skin, or our skin, or in the laundry made him breakout. He is now feeling (and sleeping) much better with the hydrocortisone cream the good doctor prescribed.

Unfortunately, this means I have to rewash everything. Not just the baby's items, which took 2 loads alone. No, we have to rewash all of OUR things as well. I am just now digging out of the 4 loads of laundry it took to rid our household of the mystery chemical.

We are home, and the garden still needs attention, there are random baby items that still need to be put away, the mail needs to be attended to, and the bedrooms have been ransacked by a series of back-to-back sleepovers for the big kid. But the kitchen is clean and the laundry is done and I even canned my kid some sweet pickles today. Perhaps the winds are picking up.

Proof of Pregnancy (3)

The nesting has commenced. Not only have we started the great migration (shuffling beds and furniture from here to there), but I have become a purging machine. A machine, I tell you. Nothing shall escape me, no matter the amount of dust it kicks up, the sentiment it stirs, the potential it once held. Nothing should feel safe.

I've started purging the boy's room of all manner of flotsam and jetsam. Toys, trash, old books, old homework, parts of science experiments, rumpled up lego blueprints, all of it is out of here (or will be soon). And we've begun purging the "Man Cave" of it's (what we shall lovingly refer to as) shit. ToxDrop, here we come. Trash men, be ready. It all must go. And as if that wasn't enough (and believe me, it is,) I've been purging my studio right along with everything else.

We must find room for all the fabulous stuff I bought at IKEA this week. And buy I did. A loft, a mattress, a recliner, a shelving unit, bedding, toy bins, and a lot of random little goodies. (Apologies to my sister who graciously rode for 2 1/2 hours with her knees under her chin and tried to convince me it was actually quite comfortable. I know. I have the most incredible sister ever.) Once the purge-a-thon is over, we will have to start assembling said furniture. I swear my kid is going to have the coolest room on the block. But until then, I would recommend keeping your valuables behind closed doors.

My Plumbing Caddy

We recently installed a new kitchen faucet. And by we, I mean my husband and my father. (I poured the wine, opened the beers, and curled up with my knitting.) My dad used to be a pipe fitter many moons ago and when I innocently (really) asked how we could fix the leaky kitchen faucet, the project quickly mushroomed into replacing the entire thing. (Trust me, we tried less costly options prior to the replacement.)

I should also mention that my son got in on the action. My son has this incredible ability to connect a new idea to an experience or idea with which he is familiar. While I sit knitting I overhear my child say, “Papa, it’s like I’m your plumbing caddy. I hold the light which is like the golf club and you do the work like a golfer would.” My father explained that there is an actual name for that job – an apprentice. Hayes got it right away, but I think I’ll be asking for my plumbing caddy from now on.

As the job became more involved, I realized that I was missing a photo opportunity. I grabbed the camera and snuck in to snap this adorable picture.

When Hayes saw the flash go off he turned his head a bit and said to his Papa, “Just act natural.” Indeed. This is our natural life.

Nursery Plans

So I think I have a good start on the nursery (otherwise known as the upheaval that is about to take place); at least I have the bumper pad fabric and some paint colors picked out. Like I said, it's a start.

I think I will want to repaint a dresser that is currently white, and probably add some more modern drawer pulls to it. And the walls will certainly be getting a fresh coat of paint. (or two, or three -- as the color in Hayes's room is really dark!)

I will definitely be adding some solid colored fabric to this mix for sheets, blankets, changing pad covers, perhaps even a chair slipcover if I get that ambitious, but these colors and patterns really appeal to me and I am sure they will have a calming effect in the new nursery -- at least on my end.

It's a start. And Hayes seems to have finally settled on a color scheme for his room too. I feel like we can actually get started painting the guest room (soon-to-be-Hayes's-new-room). There is much to do before September arrives.