So over the weekend, my wife has these phantom contractions or practice contractions or whatever it is that suddenly turns her belly into a cannonball, and they're so persistent, she comes home and says, "I think we should get the bag packed and ready.
Though it turns out to, in fact, be a drill, there's nothing like the thought of a kid showing up a month early to bring into crystal clear focus just how many things you have to get done. And I'm not talking about going to see The Golden Compass.
So last night, I was up until 2AM stripping and polishing all the old brass doorknobs; when the contractor said she could come today to cut the shelves, I put off repainting all the doors and hanging a new/old one until tomorrow. I realize I've bought almost two dozen more lightswitch and outlet covers than we have lightswitches and outlets.
The Via Toy Boxes are in transit; the milk crates, who knows? Don't I need to spray paint them? The guy at The Container Store took my sweet Japanese pen. Why did our cable go up like $100/month?
On the other hand, the new cover for our old Maxi-Cosi Cabrio is on the way from Babycare.nl [so easy and responsive and helpful, it almost makes me forget the exchange rate]. Though it's not on their under-construction website, the Jack Spade store sent my new Dad Bag in a day [it's bigger than I thought, the changing pad, too. Also, the changing pad has a basketball court printed on it. So quirky, that Jack Spade.]
And though we haven't narrowed down our list yet, the 5 vs 4 name discussion has cleared up one thing: my wife has Mozingoed the possibility of five names. And who am I to argue with a lady in her delicate condition?