The Poker Table

My name is Jayme, and I have issues planning things.

It’s not my fault.  I think through every detail, but something always happens that is out of my control.  Like the time I planned a date to Theater in the Park when the forecast looked nice, but we sat for an hour in the rain until the show got cancelled.  Or the date when I planned dinner up north and a play downtown, but the bridge to downtown had a traffic jam at 8pm and we were 45 minutes late to a 1.5 hour play.  Or the Father’s Day Float Trip I planned when the river was too low to float so we went on a hike instead and six humans and two dogs emerged covered in hundreds of ticks and we spent the afternoon picking bugs off of each other like monkeys.

Hold that thought.

Last weekend we moved to our new house.  The move went fairly smoothly thanks to the help of our fabulous friends and family.  I don’t have any exciting stories to report.  We really like the new place.  The things that we weren’t too excited about don’t bother us as much as we thought they might, and the things we knew we would like we REALLY like.  It is so nice to have space for our things and to not be on top of each other all the time.  We have the main rooms unpacked, but the rest of the unpacking is going slowly.  This is partly because of the baby, but mostly because we need some new furniture. The kitchen/family rooms will be getting new floors soon and we don’t want to get the furniture until then.  So for now, the mantle and piano bench are our couches, the counters are our kitchen table, and three boxes are our desk.

One of the things we love about the house is the finished basement.  I like being able to shoo the husband down there, and he says it makes him feel like a king. Not the shooing, the space.  He has talked about getting a poker table for his new man cave, but with all of the rest of the stuff we legitimately need, a poker table is not anywhere near the top of the list.

Still needs some decorating, but you get the idea. Any ideas on how to cover the fuse box on the right?

Father’s Day is in two weeks.  Time to start planning.

Only I forgot about what happens when I start getting excited about my big ideas.

Last week I started looking on Craigs List for poker tables.  I found a nice one, but the guy didn’t want to hold it until Father’s Day.  I convinced him to hold it for a few days until we could pick it up.  The table had a small rip in the felt, so I searched high and low to find someone who could repair the rip.  Then I got the genius idea that rather than simply repairing, why not make it a customized Mizzou table?  Brilliant, right?

The felt guy said he could do that.  I was hoping he could help me get it from Criags List guy and hold it until Father’s Day.  It took him a couple days to get pricing from his distributor.  When the felt guy called me back, he said they only had it in pool table sized and it would be stupid expensive to do it for a poker table; however he offered some ways to do it ourselves and said it should be pretty easy.

So now I need to pick up this table somehow.  I enlisted the help of our one good friend in the Northland with a truck, the same friend who just helped us move last weekend.  I felt awful asking for his help two weekends in a row, but he is awesome and agreed to help.

We planned to meet at Craigs List guy’s house at 10 am today.  The husband had no idea what was going on, just that we were going somewhere to celebrate early Father’s Day.  I was pretty stoked to see his reaction.

Only a couple minutes into the car ride, the baby started crying.  I think he was just trying to say Happy Early Father’s Day, but the husband didn’t see it that way.

At 9:50, Craigs List guy texted me saying he had an emergency errand to run and would be home all day after 11.  I texted back saying I wish he would have told me earlier; that we were already on our way.  I texted truck friend to let him know what was going on and to see if he wanted to wait or reschedule.  The baby cried.  The husband stressed.

We ended up going to Starbucks with the truck friend (and his other friend, who he was helping out after us.  Having a truck is a lot of work!).  The boys hung out while I walked the baby.  Around 10:30 Craigs List guy said he was home, we went and got the table, and all was right with the world.

The table looks pretty nice, right?  But I won’t be planning any more surprises for awhile.

PS.  After looking at it closer, the felt is not something we can do ourselves, so we’ll be calling felt guy back.  If you know anything about that, please send me a note.

My Dog Hooch

Hi there.  I’ve missed you.

I have a lot of posts swirling around in my head.  Posts about how our move went, mommy things I’ve learned in the past few weeks, new natural things I’m trying, and what’s next with our adoption.  Not necessarily in that order.  But those posts aren’t quite ready, so for now I want to tell you about my dog Hooch.

Hooch is a Boston Terrier-Chihuahua-Daschund mutt.  If you’ve met him, you know one thing about him.

He is obsessed with his ball.

Seriously obsessed.  That little blue ball is all he lives for.

We only play with blue racquetballs.  We’ve experimented with lots of different kinds of balls.  He chews apart most balls.  He chews the fuzz off of tennis balls.  Green and red and purple racquetballs puncture too quickly.  But the blue racquetballs, they last.  I usually shop at Target, but they only carry green balls.  I have to make a special WalMart trip a few times a year just to buy blue balls.

Hooch thinks the only function of human hands is to throw his ball.  He will set it in front of you and then look from you to the ball and back again.  If you don’t throw it, he will move it closer and closer until it is sitting on top of your hand.  If you tell him NO in a very firm voice, he will put his ears down and very slowly walk away.  It’s so pathetic that you almost can’t help but throw the ball then.  I think that’s part of his plan.

Hooch takes very good care of his balls.  When the lights go out at night, he puts it under the dresser.  The dresser sits so low to the ground that not even he can get it out.  In the morning, he lies in front of the dresser until someone retrieves the ball for him.  If no one gets it, he will lie there for hours.  I am not exaggerating.

Hooch never tires of fetching- one throw of the ball signals a long term commitment.  The only time you even have a prayer is if it is very, very hot outside.  Even then, you the ball thrower might get a few minutes for a water break, not an end to the fetching.

He’s pretty talented, too.  If I had the desire and time, I would pursue training and get him into some agility contests.  I’m sure he’d do well- check out these skills:

Here’s to you, Hooch.  You drive me crazy with your endless fetching, but I secretly love it.

Moving On is BitterSweet

Six years ago, the mister and I purchased our first house- a brand new townhouse just north of downtown Kansas City.  We thought we’d live here for five years or so and then sell it, using the money we made as a down payment for the next house.

Ha. Ha.

Back then, no one could have predicted what would happen with the real estate market.  If we were to sell now, we would lose tens of thousands of dollars.  But if we want to continue our adoption anytime soon, we need more space- this cute little townhouse is only two bedrooms.

Enter our friend Jen.  We went to college with Jen’s brother.  She lives less than five minutes away from us, just one exit north.  She has a single family home that she has not had great luck selling.  It is too big for her and she is tired of taking care of the house and the yard.

Can you guess where I’m going with this?

Call up HGTV because we are doing a house swap!  For at least the next two years, we are renting to Jen and she is renting to us.  It’s a creative solution to both of our problems, and it should benefit both parties.  We trust each other, but we went through a bunch of official paperwork just to make sure we’re all on the same page and that everything we agreed to is in writing.

Moving day is Saturday May 26th.  Four short days from today.

As easy as moving with a one-month-old sounds, it’s not that much fun.  I’d much rather spend time with him than packing boxes, but we are slowly getting things done.

The new house has a lot of things we’re excited about.  It has a fenced in yard, HUGE closets, a finished basement, 2 car garage, basketball goal, and storage space.  It’s going to be a good thing.

But as excited as we are, we’re also a little sad to leave our townhouse behind.  We have outgrown it, but we have a lot of memories here.  Things like….

• Borrowing $1000 from my parents to put “down” on the house, because we were so poor when we bought it that we didn’t have $1000
• Sleeping on the floor our first night here, without any lights
• Having a painting party when we first moved in, forever causing my mom to know my friend Lainey only as “the good painter”
• Having a roommate the first nine months we lived here- technically we weren’t living in sin, right?
• Searching for my first job, driving to work downtown as a temp at State Street
• Moving the furniture out of the way to practice our first wedding dance in the living room
• Having no or very crappy curtains, bedding, towels, plates, etc the first few months because we didn’t want to buy anything before the wedding
• Painting the guest room full of squares while the husband was out of town

• Having a teenager live with us for a summer
• Watching the deer and turkey out the back door
• Slip and slide parties!
• Moving in the piano, and learning how to play it
• Walking the dogs in the undeveloped area, playing fetch with Hooch and hoping he didn’t chase his ball down the sewer
• Praying on those walks that we would have a family someday
• Curling up in a ball and crying on the floor after getting home from the doctor’s appointment when they told us we’d have to do IVF if we wanted to get pregnant
• Getting together and sending in our adoption paperwork, and meeting with our social worker to do our homestudy
• Bringing our first born baby home from the hospital, and rocking him to sleep in his special nursery

Yes, this home has been a very good home to us.

Thanks for the memories, first home.  Now try to regain your value in the next two years, please.

The Best Job

We’re one month into this baby thing now, and I have to say- We’ve got this! As I’ve stated (except for in my joke post which nobody got), we’ve been pretty lucky with this baby.

There are heartwarming times every day,  like when the baby motorboats my nipple while trying to latch on, and finally looks up at me in sweet satisfaction, his deep blue eyes wide and trusting and innocent.  There are times when he does crazy things with his hands and ends up poking himself in the eyeball, just like he did during our 3D ultrasound when I really became convinced he was a boy, because what girl does that?  There have been a few nights when he’s slept for so many hours I awake with a start, afraid my baby is dead. There are times he wrinkles his little forehead and widens his eyes as he takes in this brand new world.  Every time I witness these little miracles, my heart becomes putty as I fall more and more in love with my first born son, the one I waited three years to meet.

I love being a mom.

But I don’t want to give the impression that it’s always easy, because it’s not.  Because there are also times he soils a diaper 10 minutes after I changed him- and he screams bloody murder during every changing.  There are times when he sneezes and boogers bigger than his whole nose are projected onto various parts of my body.  There are times he wakes me in the middle of the night, 56 short minutes after I laid him down to rest.  There are days when his longest nap all day is 30 minutes.  There are times when he will not stop crying even though his diaper is clean, his belly is full, his body is not too hot or too cold, and he has been cuddled and loved.

Those times make my heart melt in a totally different way. Those are the times I often wind up crying myself because I’m his mother, the person who gave him life and whom he trusts more than anyone in the world, and I can’t make him happy.

I’m lucky.  Most of our days are good days, but when we have a day full of hard moments I know my supportive husband will be home in a few hours and can watch the baby to give me a break.  I know the baby’s grandmothers are only a phone call away and they would be thrilled to spend time with the baby, even a fussy baby.  I have countless friends who are mothers of small children that can listen and relate.  I am not walking this road alone.

I have a new found respect for single moms and moms with multiple children.  I also have a new found respect for mothers who had “accident” babies.  Since we had to work so hard for our pregnancy, that concept is foreign to me.  But since it did take us so long, I have good perspective in the hard moments- I remind myself how badly we wanted this and what a miracle baby he is.  Had I gotten pregnant when I was very young, or immature, or poor, or not in a committed relationship, or without a solid support system?  I’m not sure how those women manage the hard moments, and I tip my hat to them.  If I wore a hat, that is.  I don’t wear hats because my ears stick out, so I can’t actually tip my hat to them.  But you get the point.

As an expectant mom, there are a few things people tell you over and over again:  “Your life will never be the same.”  ”Motherhood is the hardest but most rewarding job there is.”  ”You’ll love in a totally different way.”

These things could not be more true.  It’s not an easy job- but it’s the best job in the world.  Even when you get woken up for the fourth time that night.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Mother’s Day is a special day.  It’s a day to reflect on the sacrifices our own mothers made for us.  My mom had me when she was a young nursing student.  She delayed her dreams for a year in order to stay home with me.  Then, my grandmother watched me so my mom could go back to school.  My parents had no money when I was young, but their strong work ethics, smart financial decisions, and the many personal sacrifices they made allowed them to build a very nice life for our family.  I respect and admire my mom for the decisions she has made over the years.  She is generous, kind, and the most unselfish lady I have ever met.  Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.  And Grandma.  And Mom-In-Law.  And Godmoms, and Aunts, and various female mentors.  Here’s to you.

When you’re trying to start a family, Mother’s Day can be hard.  In 2009, we had just started trying to conceive.  On Mother’s Day that year, I looked ahead in excitement to what our family would soon look like.  In 2010, Mother’s Day was a sad reminder of what our family did not look like.  I went through the motions that year, not letting the hurt inside show.  In 2011, we had recently accepted the referral of our adopted children.  We celebrated Mother’s Day thinking about the kids a half a world away that we hoped to soon meet. The husband got me a sweet gift, and we gave our families framed pictures of the kids.  As fate would have it, those kids would never become ours.  We remember them today- their adoption to another family is getting closer to completion!

So here we are, Mother’s Day 2012.  In some ways, it was an ordinary day.  We went to church this morning and then drove to Chillicothe, Missouri, for a high school graduation.  But it was anything but normal.

• I got five straight hours of sleep last night and have never felt more well rested.
• I walked into the bathroom this morning to find a sweet card and a beautiful necklace (the husband is really scoring points here).
• We drove for an hour with a screaming baby and I was only the slightest bit annoyed.

(Really, how can you get too annoyed at that face?)

Nothing is normal.  Nothing is ordinary.  But this is exactly the Mother’s Day I have wanted for the past several years.

Why I Love My Husband. And Mom.

Today the husband sent me an email.  “Do you want to do something by yourself or hang out with your friends tonight?”

Let me think about that for point five seconds…YES!

So shortly after we got home for the night, I nursed and got out of there.  I read a book at Noodles and Co.  Now I’m sitting at Barnes and Noble, uploading pictures and blogging.  No dogs barking, no baby crying, no watching the clock to see how long it’s been since the last feeding or dirty diaper.  Just me and my thoughts and the soft murmur of people in the background.  Heavenly.  Thanks hubby.  You’re the best.

My mom is pretty awesome too.  I think what she wants to say is “Can I spend some alone time with my first-born grandchild without you hovering over us?”  But instead what she says is “Do you and Mark want a date night?”

How can we say no to that?

The husband and I have been on more date nights in the 3 weeks since the baby got here than we had been on in the 3 months before that.

Thanks Mom.

I’m working on another post about how things are going, so more info on that soon.  And I promise this won’t become a baby blog.  Just for the next few weeks when things are still so new, then back to your regular programming.

But while we’re on the topic of baby, when we get bored at home we do photo shoots.  Here’s some from today, at 23 days.   Enjoy

And this is what our baby has to say to any jayhawk fans:

 

March For Babies

March of Dimes.

It’s one of the most well-known nonprofits, but its mission to fight prematurity and birth defects has recently taken on a new meaning to me.  Partly because I’ve now felt life growing inside of me and have experienced a mother’s love, and the thought of anything happening to my precious baby is unimaginable.  And partly because I’ve watched helplessly as friends have struggled with these issues.

One of these friends lost her baby last summer.  This past Sunday, a small army assembled in downtown Kansas City to honor his memory.

Just a few of our gang

Now, a small monsoon started a few minutes before the walk.  The walk went on, but we wussed out and stayed under the tent’s protection.  Don’t blame me, blame the baby.  Rain or no rain, our team alone raised over $4,300! A win for all.

PS I find it a little ironic that we brought our 2-week-old son, who was 15 days late, to a march for premature babies.

PPS I’m really sorry about that last post- not cool.  I thought it was obvious that my over-the-top stories were a ploy to get out of dinner duty for awhile longer, but I realize it was not.  I apologize to those I worried, and thank you for your concern.  Postpartum Depression is serious and it was not my intention to make light of it.  That being said, we have a near-perfect baby and are totally capable and have the time to meal plan/cook.  But if you have a burning desire to bring us dinner at any time, our favorite is Mexican. Or Italian. Or ice cream.  Or anything really.