Flair for writing

Sometimes I should know better than to ask Zac to fulfill tasks that are clearly my domain.  Things like folding blankets and sheets, organizing a closet, or writing cards.  I know I should handle it.  He has proven such things to me.  I have blogged about Zac's card writing skills before here.  

On Sunday, Annie and Maggie threw a joint birthday party for the kiddos.  

Everett was 5 on the 16th, Caroline is 3 today, and Penelope will be 1 on the 23rd. 

Sunday morning Zac and I worked on my office.  I had birthday cards for the kids there that I kept forgetting to bring home.  We were a little late leaving the office, so on the ride to the party I asked Zac to fil out the cards.  He asked me what to write.  I told him.  He wrote and then told me how bad his handwriting is....how it looks like a child's handwriting and that I needed to be the one to write the names on the envelopes.  I laughed at him and told him he needed to fill out the other card too and I would fill out the envelopes.  

This was the lovely message he wrote for me as I dictated to him.  

He promptly picked up the next card and said "Alright, next card.  One year old, what's it gonna say?"

I just looked at him and waited.  I watched as the realization struck....the one year card was clearly for Penelope...and he just wrote her message in the other card.  I think he may have thrown out a curse word or two.  I told him he was not to be trusted and said "looks like the kids won't be getting cards..."  He assured me that this was exactly the reason why he should not be the one filling them out.  

I couldn't let it go that easy.  I told him, "Zac, really?  Clearly the kitty card was for Caroline. (She is obsessed with animals, especially kitties)  She would have loved it.  And obviously the 1 year card was for Peneolpe.  Their birthdays are ruined."  

He told me it was my fault because I told him what to write.  I just laughed at him.  He is ridiculous.  I assured him that he would not in charge of the cards ever again.  Except for cards for me....and I still expect those to be straight from his heart...and I won't even mind if it's written in all capitals, in a card that is completely out of context for the situation.    

Officially Official

So ya know how I said that my hormones are getting the best of me....

Imagine me getting this little piece of paper that makes my office both legal and "official."

It looked a lot like a pregnant woman crying in a minivan in the post office parking lot. 

Here's to realizing dreams folks.  

That's worth a parking lot cry in my book. 

Clifford's Nursery!

I have finally, really, finished Clifford's room.  I am so glad!  The OCD planner in me wanted it done forever ago, but sometimes things just come together in bits and pieces.  Especially when you are buying things as you are able, and refinishing what you have.  In the end, I think it is so adorable.  

So get your cup of coffee ready, sit back, and enjoy the walk (well, slow rotation) through Clifford's nursery.

This is what you see when you enter from the hall.

On the right are the paintings I made for him and a storage ottoman.

I would like one more pillow...an orange one I think, but haven't brought myself to dig through my storage tubs in the shed to find one yet.  

Sometimes I find desire is trumped by laziness...at least when it comes to pillows. 

This is obviously his dresser/changing table.  My best friend gave it to me and I used it in my room for about a year but decided it would make an excellent piece for Ford.  Next to it is a little bookshelf that I bought at Third Sunday Market in Bloomington.  (Again, if you haven't gone, GO!  There are so many vendors you are sure to find amazing things and then you will end up with your Dad's barn full of furniture just waiting on you to live somewhere other than a trailer.  Well, maybe not that exactly, but you will find great things.)
The chair was a shower gift from my sneaky Aunt Jackie.  She and mom called from IKEA about it.  We hem-hawed over buying it.   They said they passed.  They lie like rugs. 

To the left from there are his shelves and toys.  

Notice the monster that sits in his chair.  It is from my friend Darby.  She makes handmade goods (including bunnies and elephants and owls that are girlie versions of the monster) that are just perfection.  I mean really, could that monster  BE any more fab.  No.  Check her out online at Underground Vintage to see the whole array of things she creates and prepare to fall in love with stuffed animals...well beyond an appropriate age to do so.

 On his shelves he has a few other books and toys, including the construction pig piggy bank that his Great Grandma Betty got for him.  She put some pennies in already to get him started and so it would make much more interesting sounds when he shakes it.  

He also had to have pictures of his family.  

Can't forget where you come from....otherwise you might not understand why you are a little crazy :)

He got a big picture of the Ballard's and his grandparents and aunties on my side, as well as a picture from the night I told Zac I was pregnant.  As you may remember....he "congratulated" me. 

And, of course, no baby's room is complete without a crib.

(and a lovely wall mounted monitor that photographs oh so well)

Zac's sisters had these awesome letters printed for my shower.  The didn't end up using them so they handed them over.  I knew they would be perfect.  It was just a matter of finding 8 inexpensive frames....thank you Family Dollar!  With a little bit of spray paint, a level, and some patience, I hung his entire name CLIFFORD across the wall, only to discover that the frames, while all the same size, did not have the little hanger hooks mounted in the same spot on the back, so my level nails, made an unlevel name.  Obnoxious.  In the end, his full name looked too long on the short wall anyway.  

So for now, it will say Cliff.

We will see if he gets here and looks more like a Ford. 

 

There ya have it.  My little man's nursery is fully prepared to be slept in, drooled on, and probably peed all over.  Tomorrow I am 38 weeks along, so it shouldn't be too long now.  

I hope you enjoyed the tour of Cliff Stu's room.  

I love it.  

I think it's pretty perfect.

Now to find a magazine interested in coming to photograph a nursery inside of a mobile home for it's pages.  

I am thinking Traditional Home will be interested....

Spray painted

I've been trying my best to get stuff ready for my office.  I've picked up a couple desks and file cabinets and various other things.  I have a grand plan in mind for how I want all my furniture and how I want the storage space organized (which I imagine shocks absolutely no one).

  Part of that plan is making the collection of things that I've begged, borrowed, and bought super cheap look decent together.  When you are as ramy and impatient as me, that means paint in a can is your friend....a breeze is not. 

I spray painted my file cabinets to match yesterday. 

 I was wearing gladiator sandals. 

I think it may be obvious.  

I realized after I stripped down to shower that I also had a faint  black mist farmer's tan and a faint 5 o'clock shadow on the left side of my neck.  Thank goodness for dark denim, black t-shirts, loofahs and sugar scrub or I'd have ruined my clothes and looked like I just crawled out of a mine shaft. 

(And yes...my feet are a little swollen, but not bad for being almost 38 weeks.)  

Mood swingin

I am losing it.  Losing complete control of my emotions.  I feel like a manic depressive that is skipping meds.  I never know what is going to set me off or reduce me to tears and I never know how long either  event is going to take to get over.  

The first episode was at my baby shower.  I tried to thank everyone, nearly immediately started crying and then COULD NOT get myself together.  I've never been a crier really, so the fact that I was crying in front of a bunch of friends and family was a shock to me.  I mean, I get it.  A small emotional breakdown after the overwhelming generosity of all your friends and family...mehhh, acceptable, or at least ignorable, by most people's standards. 

It was just that I really couldn't stop.  It was a sad version of a bloopers real when you see an actor temporarily gain composure until they have to repeat their line, and then they are out of control again.  That was me...a teary bloopers real with a giant belly.  

Thinking back I guess this wasn't the first episode.  It was the first that was hard to control...but I think the first irrational cry came at about 5 months when I asked Zac to do something with me, like watch a movie or whatever.  If I remember right, we were in bed and he blew me off. 

 This is very common.  Zac does not do bedtime (or recently woken up) well.  Once he has laid down for the night, he is loathe to get up from bed for any reason or to communicate in anything more than a series of grunts.  So when I was trying to talk to him after he had already rolled over and "backed that ass up" towards me (his daily indicator that his day is officially, unequivocally over) I knew I shouldn't be bothering.  After nearly 7 years spent with this man, I know the score when it comes to bedtime chitchat.  Doesn't mean that I didn't start bawling...cause I definitely did.  I believe I told him "We only have 4 more months together that it is just us...Our lives are changing forever....There is no going back....blah blah blah meltdown."  Zac begrudgingly consoled me by rolling over and flinging his big arm across me and assuring me it would be ok with all the nonchalance he could muster. 

I find as I get closer and closer to my due date that now the emotional spectrum has gotten reduced itself for me again. I am either happy, crying, or raging.  Very little in between.  The funniest part is that I know when I am being crazy and I try not to.  Sometimes it works.  

The other night Zac made me mad.  I can't remember why.  Again, this happened near bedtime.  Zac was pretty much down for the count immediately after his "offending comment" pushed me over the edge.  I bawled.  Like fully bawled, gaspy breath meltdown cry.  I just left the bedroom.  Zac was already asleep and how was I gonna explain to him that this was simply the perfect storm.  That I was cryng because I was mad about what he said, and that my office wasn't done, and that my belly has stretch marks and that I hate doing dishes and it is hard to roll over in bed and I get short of breath bending and Cliff's shelves needed hung and I saw a pair of newborn sized socks and I am GIANT!  

Raging, raging hormones.  

Zac and I worked on the office again yesterday and my crazy was in full swing.  Like I mentioned in my previous post, we both want to be the boss cow.  Bad. 

The problem yesterday was that Zac could not visualize how I wanted my front desk....which lead to him argue with me about how I wanted it set up.  Each time I explained it my voice got a little higher and my eyes got a little wider until I realized I am basically yelling at him about my computer screens being hidden so patients can't see other patients PRIVATE HEALTH INFORMATION.  THERE ARE VERY SPECIFIC REASONS WHY I WANT IT LIKE THIS!  He was taken aback.  He just looked at me and said "sorry...just can't imagine what it will look like." 

The day continued in such fashion.  We took out the cabinets and sink.  Then we made a list of stuff to go get at Menards.  I asked Zac to measure the drain pipe that came out of the wall so we could get the fitting to cap it.  He informed me that we should just leave it until Sunday.  I told him I didn't want an open pipe just kicking it for days.  He then said "most people just cover it with duct tape."  I reminded him, it is not in a closet, it is "fully visible behind my front desk.  Please mesure it."  He argued again until I found myself yelling, "For f*** sake Zac measure the drain pipe so we can buy the freaking fitting!  The pipe is threaded.  There is clearly a fitting that screws right on.  I don't give a damn what other people do WE ARE PUTTING A CAP ON IT!"  Our drive to Mendards was silent.

It would seem that my recent baptism has filled me with the holy spirit.  It's times like those that I am thankful for the extra grace so that when I yell cuss words at my husband, he lets it go relatively quickly even when I haven't apologized.  

After we got home he heard me laughing as I was relaying the conversation to my little sister.  I told her, "I can't control myself.  I am emotionally on the edge at all times."  He laughed.  Then he proceeded to tell me that when I get to raging my eyes gradually get a little wider and it makes me look a little crazy and it is all he can do to keep from laughing.  Apparently the "puss-in-boots" look is winning me some leeway.  Thank goodness Zac is not a grudge holder.  

I suppose when I see this picture, and then think about what I must look like when hollering about countertop heights, it is ridiculous.

And, on second thought, that kitten is amazingly cute.  I wish I had a beautiful cuddly kitten that would love me unconditionally, I wish we had a pet.....I'm gonna cry about it.  

Demo Day

I couldn't take it anymore.  

I HAD to get started on my office.  

I called Dad Saturday night and lined up a truck, then told Zac to get excited...or at least, stop complaining. 

We had a bit of running around to do to get tools.  Thankfully, between my Dad, husband, and brothers, we have every precision instrument you could ever want, as well as every common hand tool for every job...ever.  

After rounding up a flat bar, circular saw, drill, extension cord, couple screwdrivers, a sawzall, chalk box, hammers and a drywall knife, we were pretty well ready to start the day.

Zac set to work taking the caps off of the tops of the walls, while I took off the moldings around the doors.    

We were 20 minutes in to demo when Zac realized he brought the drill and no drill bits.  

This is why I make lists.  

Zac ignores my lists.  

For the record, bits were on my list. 

Off to Menards I went, which I am thrilled to tell you is not even 5 minutes from my office.  

Before I left Zac asked me to mark the walls were I wanted them cut off...keeping in mind there would be 3 inches or so added to cap the walls again. 

  We had talked about it on the way to Effingham that morning.  I was adamant, 5 foot walls.  He said that was too high.  We went back and forth about it.  I marked the wall at 4'10" and said, "just like I told you, they should be 5 foot."  And out the door I went to Menards.  

Zac called me while I was there to pick up new sawzall blades.  He told me he marked all the walls at 4'7".  My hormones got the best of me and I threw a freaking hissy fit.  He told me he was not re-doing it.  I was so immediately pissed that I had to call Maggie to make her tell me what I logically knew....  It was 3", it doesn't matter at all.  I still struggled to get over it.  This is the story of my life with Zac.  I tell him exactly what I want, he argues with me about why I should not want it, I argue back, then he does ALMOST what I asked.

  This is what happens when two stubborn people that know everything get married.  

We struggle to see that there are two different ways to arrive at the same point.  

Then we argue about the most inane things that are of no consequence....like how laundry is done, how the pillows go on the bed, and 3" of wall height.  

We are ridiculous.   

A story to illustrate...

After I took the trim off of the doors I went back with a hammer to take out any finishing nails around frames.  Zac told me not to.  He said it was a waste of time because we were taking down the wall.  I compromised by telling him they were coming out around the bottom of the walls at the least.  

As we are removing walls Zac decides to use his hand to hit a little section of wall, and promptly stabs his palm on one of the nails he told me not to take out.   

On the drive home he says to me, "When I stabbed my hand, I know you wanted to say "I told you so?" so bad didn't you?"  I told him of course I did, but we both knew the score..and there was no point in rubbing it in.  He told me "I knew you wanted to.  I know you too well."  

I assured him, "I told you so" was what any logical person would have been thinking in that situation. 

  He insisted that he simply knows how my brain works. 

After I got back from Menards, it was business time.  Case in point, Zac put on the bandanna I got him...which means business.  It also helps with the extreme amount of sweaty that Zac is every time he moves.  

Zac cut through the first little section of wall, then handed over the job of taking down the rest of the wall caps.  We worked from the front of the office back. 

As I took off caps, Zac took out the full walls that were leaving. 

This is my foyer area, all opened up now.  

That little nook will be the kid's play area.  It will be fab. 

Zac then went to town circular sawing his chalk lines on all the interior walls to get them ready to go as well. 

You can see the extreme amount of dust.  Zac rocked his sweaty bandanna.  I had a pretty sweet hand towel tied around my head.  Nothing like making yourself a terry cloth furnace to wear on your face when you are hotter than you've ever been in your life.  (Masks didn't make it on the list....)

After all our horizontal sawing, we scored the walls vertically to make the sections manageable for Zac and I.  Turns out being super pregnant during demolition can have its downside...like being physically unable to bend forward far enough to pick things up off the ground.  But I do a darn good job of carrying anything conveniently placed in my hands.

Look at that stance. 

 Professional. 

We filled the truck bed up with little walls.  

I was thrilled!

As you can see, the office was looking VERY different and much bigger. 

We did lose part of our sunset....I was not sad. 

By 2:30 we had all the walls that were coming down, down.  

Like I said, much bigger space.

You can also notice that Zac has sweat through his shirt.  

We cleaned up a bit cause ya know I'm to OCD too handle leaving huge piles of drywall dust.  

Zac, again, insisted it was pointless.  I insisted that he be the one to hold the dust pan.  As I mentioned, bending is tough.   I need things at least 45 degrees from my bellybutton and the ability to deep lunge to get at them.  If I drop things while driving....it's over for them until I reach my destination. But I digress..

This is my demo'd office. 

 Now we start rebuilding.

You can see I have two big bays on the left hand side of the office.  Those will each hold 2 adjusting tables.  While my patients are on the tables, people in the waiting room can't see them, but I can see both the waiting room and the front desk.  I also have my private office fully enclosed (just beyond the bays), as well as the x-ray and exam room in the far left room.  

Zac and I got all this done in about 4 hours....and aside from the stupid fight about the wall height, we worked pretty well together.   Plus Zac got his Buffalo Wild Wings for lunch, so he was a happy worker.  

We headed home, dumped off the half walls, and then had to hustle to get ready for church.  Maggie and Kylie agreed to meet Zac and I in Effingham a bit early to load up the walls that didn't fit in Dad's truck.  Maggie sent me a message saying they were there already.  I told her I was on my way...that I was stuck behind "Mr. Slow Forever" but would be there ASAP.  

I was very amused to find out that Maggie's in-laws pulled into the office parking lot shortly after me.  Apparently, they were the Slow Forevers I was trying to pass.  All so that they would not have to wait while we loaded up walls.  Oh the irony.  

Wish us luck as we finish up the rest of the office.  

Next Sunday we will be working again.  I am gonna do my best not to fight with Zac. 

 Dad will be there so that should help.  

When Dad is around, he is the default "Boss Cow" and we all know it, so we tend to fall in line and let him run the show.  Here's to hoping we have just a few more days to go!  

Baptized!

Yesterday was a big day for my family.  Big maybe is not the word.  Momentous?  Important?  I dunno. We will just stick with big cause it was a long day too...

Yesterday my church (New Hope...which you've read about before on my blog) had their annual summer picnic and baptism service.  

Dad and Ollie O

Zac and I recently attended New Hope 101.  The point of the "class" is to explain the beliefs and practices of the church, as well as it's history.   To become a full member at New Hope, they ask a few things of you.  One of those things is that you are baptised, immersion style.  (You have to be an official member to be able to teach classes.)  New Hope is non-denominational, and very focused on families, more importantly, raising children to know and love Jesus.  They do an incredible job.  

Mom, Pia Girl and Cathy (Kylie's mom)

You know you have a special church when you never hear people complaining.  Even when I decided to stop helping in the 12-24 month nursery, and I knew it would be harder on the staff because of service changes, no one was upset.  In fact, one of the directors sent me a card and a gift certificate to thank me for my service to the church.  They encouraged me to try a "first serve" in a different ministry because they are sure we all have a purpose in our church, it is just a matter of finding the right fit.  

Penelope    

After attending the class (it only took us 3 years to do it), I decided that I would really like to be a full member and that I would sign up for the August baptism, and what better time than before Clifford gets here.  I asked the family if anyone else would like to do it with me.  Annie, Maggie, and Jade signed up.  All of us have been baptised before, but our previous churches did sprinkle baptisms.  

Everett and Aubrie

I talked to one of the senior pastors a bit about it.  He told me that it's not that they don't consider us baptised, but when they were deciding the direction and focus of the church and their beliefs, they decided to do immersions because that's the same type of baptism Jesus had.  He said he had done both.  He said it was ok if we never did the immersion baptism.  They had attendees that have been there from the beginning, that have not.  I assured him I was comfortable "re-upping" my baptism as the last time I was 11, and I think it is safe to say I am a considerably different person than I was then.  

Jade and Annie

I invited along my best friend because I knew it would be important to her.  She sent me a text message that she was "in tears" and that she was so happy that I was gonna be so beautiful with Cliff on board for it.  It's safe to say that Courtney is one of my biggest cheerleaders.  I can always count on her to make me feel good about myself....especially during this time, when I feel huge.  She just stands next to me, occasionally rubs my belly, and says "beautiful."  

I told her I was giant, and I now had photo confirmation of that fact.  No denying a soaking wet pregnant belly is huge.  Again, she said "no, it's beautiful."  I just love her so bad. 

I talked to Courtney a bit  about being re-baptised when I invited her.  I told her I didn't expect it to be a huge difference for me, she said "yeah, I get that. For me it is like the difference between living together and being married.  When a couple lives together there is that agreed level of committment, but then being married, it's a done deal and you can rest assured."  If there is ever an analogy today's young people will understand, it's that.  

How many of us know people in that same position right now?  Not necessarily the living together thing....but the fact that even with all the right intention in the world, there is a different level of committment...just waiting on the decision to do or give a little bit more. 

Caroline "Beans" Daniel. 

Zac and I

Joyful little faces

Kolby, Tiffany, and Evelyn (Maggie's in-laws)

Evelyn, getting "chapsticked."  She is too funny. 

Courtney and I, basically 3 failed attempts with 3 different camera operators...and this is the best we got.  Yep Court....beautiful.  

 You should know that as I've gotten gradually bigger, I frequently use my belly to corner Zac.  I push and pin him on the couch, against the cabinets, into his closet, and EVERY time it cracks me up.  Recently he has started doing it back...this is a picture of him doing it to me.  Again, I am laughing hard at the ridiculousness of it. 

Zac and I (37 weeks)

Mag and Penelope

The sisters and I before the service. 

I love this picture. 

 But it is this one, of Dad and his ladies, that makes me cry a little. 

Then each of us being BAPTIZED!  (imagine that as a sound byte all Southern Baptist gospel-y)

 Jade

Annie

Maggie

 Me

 

And all of us after. 

We make being baptised look good. :)

Now each of us are full members of the church we love.  I am happy to have done it.  Even if I have done it twice.  I think it is a small thing to ask that we be willing to "declare" our beliefs in front of the people that will be and have been, our church family.  I think that is is wise to ask that we be comfortable enough in our faith to be able to say "yes" when our pastor asks if we have give our hearts to Jesus, before we play any leading role in church ministry.  I like that the people leading my church have committed.  And I'm glad to be counted among them.     

I did get a pretty good laugh from Dad at the end of the evening.  Courtney and I were waiting on Zac to pick us up.  Courtney told Dad he was "one lucky Pa to be able to see all of his girls get baptised."  (Dad has been both sprinkled and immersed.  I had heard him tell Cathy earlier in the night that he had all his bases covered.) He told Courtney he had "been baptised a long time ago because I knew I might have to kill a man over one of these girls one day and I thought it would be wise to be in His good graces" ya know, should it ever come to that.   My Dad is somethin else...but I should get the message out to Zac before we ever have little girls :)