London Calling

Big Kraft Cooking Contest

London & I spent Friday night over at my parents to give Barry a day off.  It was his last big night to party and sleep in before the baby arrives.  At least that's how the story goes today.  We decided to make a video of Kathy & London making an ice cream cake to submit to Kraft for a contest.  (See Video.)  It was fun making the video and the cake was pretty good -- although I need ice cream cake like I need another ass. 

Today, I was hoping to have my own day off.  Barry woke up with London -- after he crawled all over us in bed -- and let me sleep in a bit.  I took a shower and shaved my legs without anyone disturbing me and that says a lot right now because leg shaving is a pretty big adventure when you can barely put on your shoes.  London joined me for a while as I did a little more organizing.

We went to breakfast and then Barry ran an errand while London & I colored. When he was home, I ran out and bought a few Christmas gifts, birthday cards, etc.  London was still sleeping when I got home, so I organized another closet -- honestly, who knew you could organize closets this well -- and pulled down some of our window treatments for the painters.

London was playing with his trains, so I told Barry that I wanted to go upstairs and edit the video we made yesterday.  Now, I'm a little Mac slow, so it was a challenge and I was loosing my patience.  London came upstairs and wanted to watch videos for a while before Barry gave him a bath.  Then, he wanted to sit with mommy, who screwed up some of the edits while he was sitting on my lap.  I lost it a bit and raised my voice which made him cry and made me feel horrible.  I just can't concentrate on kids and anything not kid related at the same time.  That whole ability to do two or three things at once that is supposed to be natural to women doesn't work for me with kids.  I'm in the kid zone or I'm not.  I can't hold a conversation with a grown up -- or at least really participate -- if a kid is around.  Not sure if that's a blessing or a curse.

Mommy, something's scratching at my bed

A few nights ago, hubby was at the gym and I had put London to sleep about 20 minutes earlier.  I'd just finished a huge chocolate sundae and was curled up on the couch feeling fat and happy and watching baby girl do a little dance in my belly.  (It's nice that someone burns up the sugar from my splurges.)

I heard London cry out, " Mommy, something's scratching at my bed."  Not really sure what he was saying, I waddled upstairs to check on him.  He is really so cute in his PJs, carrying his blanket and pillow around with him.  It's hard not to just grab him and cuddle him and bring him to our room or to sit with me downstairs.  I stuck to my guns and brought him back to his bed where he told me again that something was scratching his bed.  I comforted him and he went back to sleep.

But in the back of my mind I thought, what if "something" really is scratching his bed?  The wall behind his bed leads to empty space next to the closet.  Now, rationally, it could be a mouse or a bird or other animal/rodent, but of course I immediately thought that we had a ghost.  Totally practical, right?  The house is 110+ years old.  It had been vacant for a while before we moved in.  And, karma owed us one because we told Taylor that the house was haunted this summer just to freak him out.

When Barry came home a little while later, I told him the story -- leaving out the ghost theory.  He, being as rational as me, came to the same conclusion.  Of course there's not ghost, but now I get to creep myself out every time London hears unfamiliar sounds. 

A longer marathon

I had a visit with the doctor yesterday & it seems that I'm no imagining things:  this little girl isn't so little.  I've been feeling pretty uncomfortable -- more than I remember with my beautiful 6 lb 5 oz baby boy.  The doc is guessing that our "little" girl will be more in the range of 8 lbs.  Oddly, that means that we should not induce a few days early like our original plan.  To me, I'd think that we'd want to get big girl out before she gets too big, but I guess the theory is that we want to make sure that all of my girl parts are ready for the big -- literally -- passage.  So, no rushing, just wait until the body is ready. 

So my end date, which I compare to the finish line of a marathon, has moved from December 1 to -- I don't know -- December 14 or so.  That's like getting to mile 25 and having someone tell you that they've moved the finish line from grant park to the Chicago River.  While that may only be a mile or two, every step is a challenge and that mile feels like a second marathon.

I'm being a little dramatic, but extending the date is a blow to my mental imaging.  Just thinking of one more week at work where I have to figure out how to look professional which at this point just means finding bottoms and tops that meet and don't show my mid-drift.  One more week of chasing a toddler.  And, of course, she really could show up at any time.  The firm end date -- well the earlier firm end date -- was just a comfort.

Back to the good old strategy of spicy food, raspberry tea, long walks and maybe even a little sex.

Our most suburban experience yet: Sunday dinner at the Olive Garden

We started with good intentions.  After London woke from his nap, we'd have an early dinner at Trattoria Pomigliano in downtown Libertyville.  It's a family-friendly place with good homemade pasta that's just a few blocks from our house.  London would be in a good mood, we'd have dinner early enough to get him back for a bath and reasonable bed-time and we'd have a nice dinner.

When we drove past the restaurant, we realized that the place was closed on Sundays so we started thinking about alternatives.  Burgers, Thai, fast-food -- nothing sounded right.  We were in the mood for Italian.  When the hubby suggested The Olive Garden, we laughed.  But really, it was mostly what we had in mind. 

There began our most suburban adventure yet:  Sunday dinner at 5 p.m. at The Olive Garden.  The parking lot was jammed with mini vans and SUVs.  Inside, the clientele was dressed in jeans and sweatshirts and included lots of families and older couples.  No fashionistas in sight.  No bugaboo strollers or skinny mommies wearing high-healed boots.  No toddlers wearing haute couture from high-end baby boutiques.  No valet.  No line out the door for organic pizza.  This place was something we hadn't experienced in over a decade -- at the very least -- and it was all new to us.

Honestly, our experience wasn't bad -- although we did feel a little out of place, we really are the target market.  London was a little fussy at first, but once his mac & cheese arrived, he sweetly focused on the task at hand.  Our server -- Mark or Mike -- was great and gave us better service than we've ever received at 545 in Libertyville.  Dinner was good -- not great -- but was just fine for a quick casual meal.  I had a glass of the Super Tuscan which was a very nice surprise. We finished the meal with oversized desserts and the hubby had a decaf coffee.  For some reason, it was the coffee that he said made him feel more suburban than anything.

Now London has a super sugar buzz, but he's had his bath and he's relaxing before bedtime.  Our goals for the evening were met and we spent less than half of what we would on a Sunday dinner in Wicker Park.  Will we go back?  Why not.  Once we get over ourselves, it really was a nice evening.  We can save our urban (or urban-like) adventures for non-kid nights out.

Nesting or a little crazy?

The cradle is ready; baby clothes washed, folded and put away; diaper station is loaded; swing is set up (although we need to buy batteries); and the car seat is ready to put in the car; baby bottles are purchased and and breast pump is ready for action.  The hospital bag is mostly packed with the cord donation kit standing by.  We have 23 days -- or so -- and it looks like we're ready to roll.

So that's why I've decided that we need to paint the house this week.  You know, mix things up, add a little stress, and be sure that harmful fumes are gone before baby takes her first breath in our house.  And it's not like I'm looking for something to do.  I have four communication concept plans to write, lots of research to review, meetings scheduled with magazine sales reps and only about 10-13 working days to do it in.  But hiring a crew of painters to remove wallpaper and repair/paint interior walls seems like something that suddenly is important. 

I'd been sitting on the project, because I really want to change our color scheme which would include buying new rugs and slipcovering or buying new furniture.  With the economy in the tank and Taylor asking for a car -- and that won't happen -- there's no way that I can justify new furniture or even taking all of my unpaid maternity leave.  So, I gave in and decided that I couldn't live with what we have any longer.  Plus, I've been experimenting with color patches on most of the walls and it's starting to look silly.

22 days before baby ... but I guess we needed the motivation.