My Biscuit's Not Burnin'

Yesterday was fab! It started off at the clinic, where I was supposed to get my RhoGAM injection to defend Alex's poor defenseless antibodies from mine should he have a positive bloodtype. (I know, you're thinking, gee Sarah, that sure doesn't sound fab to me. Patience is a virtue people, the story gets better!) Everyone I know that had gotten this injection and knew I was going to get it had attempted consolation by saying "It really isn't that bad." Of course, to some people, that means, "It really isn't that bad." To me, when someone says "It really isn't that bad," that usually means, "It really is bad. Otherwise I wouldn't say anything at all. I would just assume that you assume that it won't be bad." In other words, I was prepared for it to be bad.

My trepidation was only further enhanced when the nurse who was administering the injection made an attempt at what I can only describe as an ineffective method of calming me by making sure I was fully prepared for the pain that lie ahead. After I had yanked my chin-high maternity pants down over my hips and laid down sideways on the examination table, she said to me, "Now, I have to warn you, most people find this to be really unpleasant." Um, thanks for the warning, lady. I feel much better now.

Timothy had insisted that I let him come with me for moral support, so the nurse suggested that I take his hand and squeeze it if I needed to because "that's what he is there for." We started chatting about this new pregnancy-inspired sitcom called "Notes from the Underbelly" while she prepared the needle. I was yapping on and on about it, waiting to be stopped mid-sentence when the agonizing pain of the needle became too intense to speak. I felt the tiniest needle prick and the slightest burning sensation, so I continued to yap, patiently waiting for the real pain to start. Before I knew it, she was dabbing the affected area of my hip with cotton and applied a band-aid to the injection site. "Uh, is that it?" I asked. She answered in the affirmative.

Oddly enough, I was a little disappointed by the painlessness of it all. I was totally prepared to be the tough girl and play off the pain like it was nothing. But this really was nothing, so I couldn't in good conscious pretend like it wasn't and play the hero anyway. In fact, it was so not a big deal that I began to worry that the nurse had done something wrong and that maybe she hadn't given me enough of the antidote for Alex to be able to combat my vicious antibodies. You know, like "the tingle means it's working" kind of thing. I almost went back in to that nurse, demanded a redo, and said "And make it hurt this time."

Fortunately my overly rational husband was there to stop me. On the way out of the clinic, we also found out that results for my glucose test came back. I passed - got an A minus. So no gestational diabetes for me! Next stop - Dairy Queen, for a celebratory Butterfinger Blizzard (super-sized, of course).

I headed off to work, where Joy called me and asked whether I had lunch plans. Although the Lean Cuisine French Bread Pizza I had stowed away in the freezer was tempting my taste buds, I decided that lunch out with Joy might be a little more fulfilling. So we pretended to be "ladies who lunch" (even if only for an hour) and had a scrumptious meal at Belle Arti, one of my favorite little Italian joints on the square.

I gave Joy the nickel tour of the office before she headed home, then I pretended to look busy for a couple of hours before heading to Fayetteville. A carwash project that I was managing was having its soft opening today, so I left a little early to go check on the progress and see if I needed to crack any skulls. Skull-cracking took less time than anticipated (or I'm more efficient at it than I thought) so I was able to get home about an hour earlier than usual.

I walked into the house and saw a large Wal-mart box and random packing material strewn about in the living room. Aha! The bedding has arrived! Wal-mart had recently caused some bedding drama when they sent the bedding that Vicki had ordered back to the factory. But thanks to her incredible powers of persuasion, Vicki convinced them to send the bedding directly to our house, free of shipping charges, and it arrived the very next day!

Timothy went out on his own and picked up the mattress so that he could have the whole bed made up by the time I got home. With only a single call to his mother (for confirmation only), Timothy assembled the mattress, bedskirt, sheet and bumper. I was very impressed and sooooo excited!! The pattern is a combination of stripes and polka dots in yellow, brown, and sage green. I was excited to see how the bedding was going to work with the art I had done for the opposite wall. Although the pics of the art that I've posted here seem to enhance the brightness of the hues, the colors are much more muted in real life and will hopefully work well in the space.



Anyway, we are well on our way to having a complete baby's room. My dad is working diligently on the changing table and hopes to have it done in a few weeks, and hopefully we will acquire the rocking chair on our registry (hint, hint). Then a few decorative touches later we should be ready to bring home baby.