A few months ago, Jeff and I decided that we need to spend more time around babies and families with small children so we can get a sense of what is coming, as well as some advice and inspiration, and a few free meals couldn't hurt either. It's been really fun to see all the different ways our friends have approached parenting and how they are making homes with some really adorable children that we have fallen in love with.
Thus far, we have hung out with Alicia (pronounced Ah-lee-see'-ah), Grace, Andrew, Kate, Lily, Sam(antha), Joe, Amelia, Oliver, Lily, Petra, Peyton, Kailee. We are learning so much. Did you know that little babies don't understand the concept of weekends, so they are likely to wake up on a Sunday morning at 5am ready to play? That one has given me pause. Maybe the first thing we teach Peppermint is how to tell time so she can learn that the best time to get up and play on a Saturday or Sunday is more around the 7:00 p.m. hour or, we could do it like the farmers do, and get up with the sun. We learned that our nine-month-old friend Petra likes to get up at 4:30 a.m. everyday of the week, including Christmas and holidays. She's as reliable as Federal Express!
This is all starting to be extraordinarily real. Friday night Jeff assembled Peppermint's changing table / dresser, and I sorted through a box of clothing from my college roommate, Alice. Holy Nesting, Batman! It feels like we have enough clothes for our daughter to last her until kindergarten, though I am probably underestimating the whole she'll-poop-in-her-diapers-three-times-per-day thing, which will necessarily require multiple changes of clothes everyday. In any case, our baby has some stuff and some furniture to put her stuff in. She's got outfits in the closet and a teddie bear and a crib on the way.
From our Tour de Bambinos and the accelerated pace of our nesting, I am starting to turn a corner. Peace and quiet excitement / anticipation is starting to overtake the panic and fear. Perhaps the apex of my terror (so I would like to think) was Saturday morning around 3:30 a.m. I was having a horrible dream about a ceremony in a cathedral that was an elaborate execution of Princess Diana, and I woke up gasping for air. I literally could not breathe and was so scared about how hard it was to catch my breath. Putting aside the fact that our humidifier has stubbornly refused to work now that it is almost warm in Chicago (that means over 45 degrees), I think my subconscious was making one last mad dash into the realm of sheer panic. I will note here that Jeff had a similar experience waking up trying to catch his breath on Sunday morning. Clearly we either need shock therapy or a new improved humidifier!
I am grateful for this peace that sometimes is so intense it almost feels like joy. I feel like I am ready to be ready. I'm pre-ready. I packed the hospital bag, though I am not sure about what outfit I am bringing for the baby to wear home. Apparently, that's a big deal-- this picking out an outfit for the baby to wear home. I have heard lots of stories about babies sporting family heirlooms out of the hospital. It feels like a lot of pressure to find the perfect outfit for the 6 mile drive from the hospital to our house. I am confident I am up for it, but I keep thinking that I really just want the baby to be comfortable-- it's likely to be July (think hot and humid) and having just endured the trauma of birth, I don't really want to start the first real journey we take together, but no longer joined at the cord, with a focus on clothing. Plus, I keep thinking that this is going to be a big baby-- I bet she's a ten-pounder, which means she may skip over newborn clothing and show up wearing 3-6 months onsies.
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