Sunday, June 27, 2010

Nesting and Venting

Dear Diary,

(Or at least that's how I feel right now. This is a venty post.)

We bought this house in 2006, knowing that we'd want to replace all the flooring and do some work to it. Every winter since then I've been bugging P to get going with it, thinking that we should do it when it is cold to save ourselves the sweat in "sweat equity". It never happened.

When I found out I was pregnant, one of the first things I said to P was, "I'm not uncrossing my legs for this kid to come out until we have new floors." Along with that was a reminder that it'd be summer soon, and it'd blow to be doing hard-core renovation upstairs during the summer.

The months went by, and he did nothing.

Finally, I started freaking out. My instincts are telling me to nest. I need to create a pretty little room for my kid. Like, now. And I need a place to put all of these wonderful and most welcome baby hand-me-downs that I'm receiving. Right now they are just in a heap in the loft. I don't even know what I have, so I can't tell people what I need!

Finally I bitched and moaned enough for P to start ripping out the carpet in the nursery. That took like a month or more. Waaaaaaay longer than necessary. Held up by stupid shit like he didn't know if the trash guys would pick it up. Finally the carpet is out. Finally the ceiling is scraped. Finally the ceiling is primed and painted (though it needs a few touch-ups before the floor goes down). Finally the walls are painted.

We go today to order the floors - 7 to 10 business days. GRRRRRR. Should have been ordered 4 days ago when we finally agreed on which to get!

I tell him, fine, put in the ceiling fan while I start cleaning out the guest room to get its carpet ripped out, since we lost next weekend to laying floors, we'll rip out carpets next weekend instead.

This fan took hours last night, literally all day today (still not done at 4:30pm), punctuated by tons of cussing and trips to Home Depot.

Ok, I get that there were issues with the fan. The previous owners had totally jury-rigged the thing in there, and it really wasn't safe, and I appreciate that he doesn't want The Kid to die when a fan falls on her. Really, I do. But does he thinking that bitching about it helps? Just get it done.

For that matter, just get it all done. I get that you work all week. So do I. And I get that you miss sitting on your ass all weekend and every evening. So do I. But you've made a baby, and we've got it ticking like a time bomb in my belly EVERY DAY. You can't just ignore this. It isn't going to go away. And this may be the last chance we have for a long while to get this place organized before a mini-tornado descends for 18 years.

I know he doesn't have the same kind of hormonal motivation that I have. I get that. But shit, dude, we're under a deadline here!! I know that by the book I have 3.5 months left. I get that. But what if she's early? What if there are more delays? What if we aren't ready?

I reckon we need 3 weekends to lay the floor upstairs. One for one half, one to move the shit from the unfinished side to the finished side, and one for the other half. And that is under the best of circumstances. So hopefully by the end of July. Hopefully by the end of July. Hopefully by the end of July.....

(I love you, Preston. Truly, I do. I know that you can't understand this right now, but I really believe I have our family's best interests at heart. And yours. If we get this done sooner, you'll have more ass-sitting time before the baby comes. Wait longer, and you'll be doing it by yourself because my usefulness will have expired in a giant vat of baby belly. I appreciate the things you are doing. I just don't understand why it has to be like pulling teeth....??)

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