Naughtiest Day Ever

Mona had her naughtiest day ever.

Because of past destructive behavior while we are away, she sleeps in a big kennel in the basement during the day. This week she got out two days in a row by somehow unlatching the door. (This is the kind of latch where you need to first lift it and then move it over to the side before it will open.) Anyway, she visited every room in the new house and did something terrible in each one. Jono had forgotten to put one of our bags of groceries away the night before and she found it. She put a stick of butter in the couch, a huge hunk of pepper-jack cheese in our bed (which she crumbled and spread around) and some lunch meat in the sun room. She then took the soap out of the shower and put that in our bed too. She went into the baby's room, took all of his little diapers off the shelf and threw them on the floor, and then chewed up his wipes. She peed in the basement twice and chewed up a few boxes.

We put two padlocks on her kennel the next day, so I'll be jiggered if she's out when we get home. She is obviously traumatized by the move and is trying to tell us how mad she is about it.

Looking back it's kind of funny, but we were pretty angry at the time because we're trying to get our house looking decent and she was having a retro-active effect on that process.

Cadet Camp '94

We finally moved all of our stuff into the new house this past weekend and slept there for the first time. Not able to do any heavy lifting (other than the extra 30 pounds I can never put down), I stood by the U-Haul and told people where to put things. Just standing there made me incredibly tired, but I didn't want to say anything because everyone else was actually working and I technically was not.

Can you imagine? "Oh, guys, can we just take a break for a minute? I'm DYING here," says immobile chick from the sidelines as rest of family carts bulky, awkward items down truck ramp, up stairs and through two doorways...

Tyler, remember that walking stick you carved for me at Cadet camp in middle school? You wrote my name on it in block letters and carved out a place for my hand. When you gave it to me it felt like a peace offering during a time when we didn't like each other very much. You even decorated it with beads and feathers, which I'm sure was a tribute to my youthful obsession with Native American culture (which you've since mocked me for millions of times). Well, I still have it -- it was one of the first things to come out of the truck -- and I leaned gratefully upon it while shouting "living room", "sun room", " basement". So, thanks. I'll never throw that thing away.

We're about 25 boxes of junk away from feeling settled, but the good news is we are HOME.

A Pregnant Ninja

Halloween is my friend Kristen's favorite holiday. Every year beginning in August she starts asking me what I'm going to be. Growing up we weren't allowed to celebrate Halloween. There is only one photo of me in a costume at the age of three, pre-Halloween-ban. (I'm in some clown get-up my mom came up with and for some reason I'm mad about it.) Anyway, as a result I get a little stressed out about the costume question.

Last year I was Frida Kahlo with a uni-brow. This year I'm not sure what to do. So guys...what should I be for Halloween? I feel like I need to take advantage of my bonus costume accessory this year.

Tips received so far:

• turtle (shell in front)
  
• watermelon
• pregnant ninja

Thrift Store Jackpot

I haven't had much time to scour thrift stores for the little guy yet, but on Saturday I stopped at Salvation Army and ventured into the kiddie section. Best find: a little fleece pea coat with ship-anchor buttons. $3 well spent. Weirdest find: Oliver Twist-style knickers with suspenders. $2 well spent. Now all he needs is a little newsboy cap (the kind usually worn by cute old men.)

Grant recently found a little leather bomber jacket at a second-hand store in Seattle, complete with wool-y collar and the word "Intruder" stitched into it. He bought it and sent me a picture on my phone. There will be photos posted of him in that asap, just sit tight.

Man, this is fun. I have to admit one of the things I've been most excited about is dressing him for my own amusement. When they're that little they don't know the difference anyway, so it's really up to me how hilarious/irresistable I want him to look. Better take advantage before he gets his own ideas about things and is begging me for some sort of sports jersey. I'll have to give an inch on that one though, since Jono is already threatening to dress him in Michigan apparel (my dad raised us to hate the Wolverines as a result of their long-time rivalry with the Washington Huskies. Also, jock wear is not nearly as cool as dressing a child in clothing from 19th century England, in my view. I will try to be flexible though.)

Five more weeks people. Five more weeks.

Search and Destroy

Old houses are full of super-fun surprises. I won't bore you with the details.

My parents, my brother Tyler and Jono's dad and step-mom Jan helped us with some "demo" projects the first two weekends, and Jono's mom and Jeff came this week to help paint. (Sorry I didn't get any shots of you working Jan and Dad. People will just have to believe me when I say you helped :)

So far we've finished a lot of wallpaper-peeling, plastering, sanding and the like. The tasks ahead of us involve more painting and refinishing floors. Then more cleaning. And then we'll move in. We're shooting for October 25.

I need to stay away from paint fumes and I'm not supposed to be on ladders or on my hands and knees. This makes me practically useless for most home improvement projects. Poor Jono. We're very thankful for the help we've been getting from our parents. I guess certain "dependencies" never end no matter how old your kids get.

I'm trying to be useful by obsessively wiping down the counters, walking the dog, and making food for the troops. And feeling housewife-y while I'm doing it. Oh well.

Is this Heaven?

No, it's Iowa.

Mom and I took our annual October trip out there to see my grandparents and other extended family. Highlights were Amish people, my last baby shower with my aunts and girl-cousins on the Dieken side, and 16 hours in the car with my mom blabbing about pretty much everything on the planet (we usually don't stop yapping the whole way there and back).

Jono always makes fun of me when I say "We went to the Amish." It's how we've always said it. What we mean is we're driving 35 miles out to Jesup to farm-hop and buy their delish cookies, pies, pickles and jam. We went in a small caravan made up of my grandma, Mom, my aunts Brenda and Bonita, and my cousins Nick & Kristle with their two kids, Devin and Eden.

At one point we were in a barn digging through a bunch of vintage stuff sitting out on farm trailers. The Amish Mom came out and asked when I was due, how old I was, and if this was my first. She told me she'd just had her seventh child. Amish Pops was away at the horse sale, and she wouldn't sell me an unmarked red vase I wanted because she had "gotten in trouble" with him last time for selling a valuable item for a few bucks. It was a cool vase, but I didn't want to push it with her and start begging.

At another farm there were three Amish kids hanging around staring at us - two little girls and a tiny boy. We learned the tiny boy's name was Wilbert, and I about died. I wish you all could've seen him with his blue shirt and suspenders and big straw hat. He was about two feet tall and had huge brown eyes and a little mouth that was puckered into an o-shape. There are certain little boys that I find irresistable, and the fact that his name was Wilbert put me over the edge. He waved at me once.

Mom got her first whisk ever at one of the Amish general stores and replaced her measuring cups and spoons, of which she has lost half over the past ten years. I kept grabbing basic kitchen items I knew she didn't have off the shelves. We took a picture to commemorate this grand moment for her. (Mom = not a shopper. We had to explain to her why a whisk is more useful than a fork for stirring up eggs and the like.)

Last stop out there was the "Bent n' Dent" grocery store. Though Grandma kept saying "Scratch n' Dent", like it was a place to scratch n' sniff canned goods. (I love her!) It is what it sounds like. Canned and other packaged goods that are bent and dent, and therefore cheaper than Aldi's (it's possible, but probably overkill).

My aunts are hysterical. I laughed so hard on Amish Day that I was afraid I'd go into labor while Gordito's daddy was eight hours away in Michigan. We talked about so many inappropriate things it was unreal. The next day all of us had sore throats. We were worried we were getting sick, but as it turns out we were just laughing too hard.

This is the last trip I'll be taking in awhile, so I savored it. Pics below. The baby is my second cousin Eden, and I think she stole the show.

On Your Mark, Don't Get Upset, GO

I used to think that was the right thing to say before a race when I was little. It kind of applies now.

We had our final Preparing for Childbirth class last night and got to watch video footage of a birth. There have been a few other times when we've been shown certain phases of the process, but this last one was pretty comprehensive, starting with the first labor pains and ending with the baby coming out and being placed on it's mother's chest.

I have a hard time not bawling through birth footage. Or feeling like I need to run out of the room. I forget to breathe.

Again, the mixed feelings. One second I'm afraid and want to say, "No thanks. I'll take the stork-dropping-it-off option." But then the baby comes out all curled up with its little eyes open and I'm so happy for the people in the video after all that struggle and wish it was me who was done with the whole thing.

I guess now we're considered ready to give birth. Our instructor's last line to us was, "Alright then, go out and have your babies!"

Riiiight.

Our New Place

We're finally moving in!

The last tenant moved out this past Tuesday, and the realtor handed us the keys.

Our new pad is a three-bedroom four-square on Orville Street, built in 1929. It has a big front porch and a fireplace that I can't wait to use this winter. It has a living room, dining room, kitchen, sun room and basement. All the makings of a good house :) Out back we have a circular stone patio and a long, narrow yard for Mona to run in. Behind the garage is a perfect spot for my garden next year.

The location is pretty good. We like not having to drive everywhere, so we're happy to be within walking distance of a city park and a corner store. The Fulton Street Farmer's Market and downtown GR are about 15-20 minutes away by bicycle. We also live within a few blocks of our friends Kristen and Ernie.

To start, we're moving our boxes from Joel and Jessie's basement into ours and waiting until mid-October to move our furniture and ourselves in. We need to do some messy ceiling replacements first and paint a few rooms. (I guess we can thank the 70's for textured ceilings that make a dark room look 50% darker.) Over time we'll make it ours. Jono has big plans to re-do the kitchen at some point, but for now I'm mainly concerned that the ceilings and paint are taken care of so we can start living there. I'll post more pictures as we finish each room.

I love the term "nesting" -- it's so cozy and cute. I can't wait to get to it. Less than two months to go before Fatty McFattersons arrives, and that's assuming he isn't early. We squeezed this move in just in time. Phew.

At my work we have devotions on Tuesdays. We tell everyone what's going on in our lives and pray for each other afterwards. One of my co-workers prayed for us, the baby, and the new house. In his words:

Bless this house
Bless the walls
Bless the floors
Bless the ceilings
Bless the roof
Bless everything that happens within it
Make it a welcoming place for all
Fill it with love and friendship
Anoint it for You.

Shower #2

Here are some shots from the "outdoor baby party" thrown for us by the Klooster/Holtvluwer/Lehman/DeGroot clans (Jono's side). Thanks guys!

32 weeks / 8 months

Pic 1: Hmmm.
Pic 2: Hey Mona, are you ready for this? Wait...am I?
Pic 3: Mona with knitted brow, expressing her feelings for both of us.

Holy cow. I'm eight months pregnant. As you can see, pretty ripe for the picking at this point.

I'm supposed to gain about a pound a week from now on until he comes. Half of each pound goes straight to him.

I have two months to go, which sounds confusing. Aren't women supposed to be pregnant for nine months? I'm no math whiz, but 8 + 1 = 9 and 8 + 2 = 10. What they don't tell you about pregnancy is that it's nine full months, or 40 weeks -- you're pregnant through the end of that ninth month -- so really you've just about hit ten months by the time the kid arrives.

The whole business of when you become pregnant is also complicated as far as calculations go. For the first two to three weeks after conception, no one is sure whether they are pregnant or not because it's too early for the pregnancy test to detect the hormone your body starts releasing. So, when I told someone who had already had a baby that I was four weeks along (many moons ago it seems), she gave me a look and said, "Did you just find out yesterday, or what?" When I explained we'd known for a couple of weeks and gave her some specific dates, she gently informed me that I was actually six weeks pregnant. When the doctor calculates your due date, you're "pregnant" two weeks before you really are according to the chart they use.

Puh-leeaase.

Now that I'm past 30 weeks, my mental state is changing. I’m thinking more about how the birth might go and all the potential scenarios. When I think about it I get alternating waves of excitement, terror and determination. It's not like I have a choice at this point - that's the scary part. Sometimes I feel like this is the most important, mind-boggling thing I will ever do. You can hire anybody to do just about anything, but no one else can get him out into the world for me.*

*Well, technically they can (by c-section), but still, without my body as his temporary home he wouldn't have gotten this far.