Countdown: 5

This has been, to say the least, an eventful week.

On Friday morning, the day after we repaired Chewy The Mystery Rodent’s damage to our car, we went about our usual morning routine, which includes enjoying our morning brew on the front porch while the dog romps and sniffs and does his own morning business. This morning his routine was rather different, as he bee-lined it for the car, and began jumping on the hood of the car and whimpering at it. Figuring that Chewy may have returned, we popped the car hood, only to meet Chewy himself, just chillin under the hood of our car:

Chewy is a groundhog. One who was quite happy and comfortable under the hood of our car, and one who did not take kindly to our attempts to evict him, which included starting the car, spraying him with water and loudly yelling obscenities at him.

(Notice the bared teeth)

We eventually decided that Chewy would be best served to remain under the hood for the trip into Orangeville, until my arrival there, at which point I would procure a large pointy object, and attempt to convince him again that our car was not the best place for him to live. Chewy, thinking otherwise once I put the car into gear and began the journey down the driveway, hopped out and ran helter skelter to his safe haven in the ground.

Fast Forward to Saturday Evening...

Turns out Chewy never made it to his hole. We found him, stiff as a board, about 4 feet from his hole on Saturday night. Chewy won’t be chewing on our car any more. We’re not sure why he died – could have been the trauma, could have been the prospect of moving to Orangeville…that would give me a heart attack too. Anywho, we gave him a little burial, and said so long to Chewy, with a little bit of sadness in our hearts. But not too much, since he did cost us $75.00.

Our next adventures were Saturday and Sunday, where we spent the days at Baby Boot Camp. A weekend long prenatal class, with a fantastic instructor, there was no beating around the bush when it came to anything to do with labor or babies. With practice coaching sessions, relay games of boys against girls to see who diapers and swaddles the baby the fastest (the boys won!), and infinite Pearls of Wisdom such as “Fear Not the Butt Hole!” (in reference to bathing the baby), we had a hoot for the entire weekend! To top it all off, the instructor owns a store where all the classes are held, so at the end of the weekend you can blow all your hard earned dollars on tons of baby gadgets and gizmos that you are totally convinced you need after the weekend camp….can you say smart marketing strategy, boys and girls? We only fell for it a little bit, purchasing a few missing attachments to our uber breast pump (turns out we were handed down a top of the line $400 pump!) and a few other essentials. But we came home on Saturday night and packed our holy shit bags for real, and strapped the car seat in the car, as we were warned that “somebody in the class will have their baby next week.” Egads….since we were one of only 3 couples due in August, we decided the odds weren’t that great in our favor and heeded the advice.

Since that piece of advice on the weekend, I have entered full panic mode, and am intent on finishing up all the last details of baby prep. Steve is humoring me nicely, and we’ve made an extensive list of all the things to do. I’d like them done by the end of the weekend – this is the goal! We did finish the cradle this week, Steve’s folks ordered us a super crib that is to be arriving this week, and things are happening at lightening speed around here. We’ll let you know how things go this weekend!

On the list of things that died this week, Our Little Green “Nothing Runs Like a Deere” Lawnmower died for good. Certified by Greg the Lawnmower fix-it man. That’s all I have to say about that – I don’t wanna talk about it.

In the meantime, my belly seems to be at capacity. I have no idea how there is any more room to grow anything in there. But Dude is still dancing it up in there, and has taken to stretching out occasionally, which results in his big ol’ feet jabbing me in some unidentified (but assuredly necessary) organ. I think it’s my kidneys! Considering that at 5’10” tall, I am the shortest in my family, I have a feeling he may be a bit of a long one. The other “enjoyable” side effect that I have become resigned to is the almost constant heart burn. I purchased the largest size bottle of Rolaids that money can buy today, as I’m getting tired of hunting around in my purse for those little half rolls of them.

We certainly feel “ready” after this weekend, as ready as we’ll ever be. We have a much more accurate (and somewhat frightening) picture of what the first two weeks will be like. The Transition phase of Labour (which our Prenatal Instructor compared to “hell on earth”) is going to suck the most, and the first week or two of baby’s life will likely run a close second in the category. For someone who can function on little to no sleep, it will likely be not so bad. I am not one of those people. Neither is Steve. I have a feeling that neither is Dudley. But we’ll suck it up, and forgo everything else (with the exception of food) in the first few weeks, and get it over with. I imagine that the joy and love that we’ll feel for the little super-pooper will (mostly) outweigh the lack of sleep. In the meantime, we continue to nest, and chew Rolaids, and enjoy our last few weeks of being a carefree couple with a spoiled dog.