Baby Registry

One of the most exciting moments in wedding planning is when you and your future spouse go and register for gifts. There is nothing cooler than going to Macy's, getting that little gun, and going gangbusters on all the stuff you need, want, and would never, ever buy for yourselves. Some people think registries are tacky- a big gift grab telling people what to get you. I do not agree- registries are a practical way for the gift giver to ensure that their gift will be wanted, appreciated and used. I am always a fan of giving gifts from a registry, because if the bride and groom want a toaster, they may want the red Kitchen Aid toaster, not the metal style toaster I would pick out from Target. Also, gift registries put all the guests in sync- even though I don't know your Aunt Myrtle, I can see that she purchased 4 of your chosen wine goblets, and I can supplement that with the remaining 4 wine goblets, and you will have the desired set of 8 wine goblets. Brilliant.

Registering for baby gifts is the antithesis of a wedding registry. There is nothing more stressful, anxiety ridden, and confidence shattering than walking into a Babies R Us and recognizing just how inadequate you are- realizing that you will be a horrible parent because you don't know an infant car seat from a convertible car seat, or that you should get a "cool mist" humidifier, or that you should make sure you can't fit a soda can through the slots on a crib. This is what we went through a few weeks ago when we were stupid and naive enough to walk blind into a Babies R Us. On a Saturday. At 2:00 p.m.

I was excited to go to Babies R Us, waiting to duplicate to pure exhilaration of the wedding registry. This was not to be the case. Instead, we entered an unknown jungle of pregnant woman, reluctant men, infants, and aisles and aisles of items of god-knows-what; but apparently we needed one of each. After several misguided attempts on my part to figure out 1) what we needed and 2) what had the highest safety ratings, Nick assuaged my anxiety by taking the gun away and starting to shoot: he paid no attention to what he was shooting. I pointed, he shot. He shot items that were cool, items that we wanted, and items that we would never, ever buy for ourselves. For a brief moment we had matched the pure high of the wedding registry. For one moment (OK, about 30 minutes) we didn't think about safety ratings, prices or necessity. For
one moment we were free.

We left the Babies R Us, satisfied that we had completed our mission, warm from our victory. We celebrated the day with some drinks (Virgin Pina Colada for me) with friends in Seattle.

The next day I looked at our online registry, and changed every single thing.

Dreams

Since I've been pregnant I've had a lot of funky dreams. I don't know if I am having more than usual, or if they are just more vivid and memorable, or if I am simply remembering them because I wake up four times a night to use the bathroom.

When I was first pregnant, I started having what I'll call the "party" dreams. These dreams all were about good times and living it up. I'm pretty sure these dreams were a manifestation of the concerns I was having on how my life would soon be changing. More recently, I have moved on to the "fear" dreams. These dreams are horrific, and illustrate the subconscious concerns I am obviously having involving child birth, my safety, and the baby's safety. I don't talk about these dreams because they are completely disturbing and they make me wish I hadn't watched so many horror movies in the past, and that I haven't read so many horrible police and CPS reports.

Last night I had a new kind of dream. I am referring to this type of dream as the "absurdist" dream. I hope I have graduated from "fear" to "absurdist" permanently because it was pretty damn funny. Some background: Nick catches a lot of salmon, and he smokes a lot of salmon. He is famous in three counties and four states for his wonderful smoked salmon recipes. He has an old "L'il Chief" smoker he bought from some guy on Craig's List for $20. Lately, Nick has been looking at upgrading his smoker (did I mention I hate smoked fish and the smell of smoking the fish?), and last night he showed me the $250 smoker on the Cabela's website that he would like to procure. Clearly, given the state of things, we will probably not be spending $250 on a smoker anytime soon.

So that is the background to the dream I had last night. (This will be much funnier to those who know us both).

In my dream, I walked into our non-existent garage and Nick was in there packing up our baby mattress and crib (we just got one last week). I asked him what he was doing, and he told me, quite matter of factly, that a guy on Craig's List needed a crib and mattress, and he was going to trade ours for a new smoker. I asked him calmly if he was crazy, told him that we needed the crib, and where the heck would we put the baby? He said "Don't worry, this guy has an old twin mattress he's also giving me; we'll just put the baby on that." Just then the Craig's List guy showed up with the smoker and a mattress: I don't know who Craig's List guy was supposed to be: he was very skinny and hunched over with unwashed hair and an oversized coat. The mattress he dragged in with him was burned out, stained, and just plain nasty. I told Nick I would never put a baby on that thing and he again said, "Don't worry, my dad is going to help me repair it with old sheets."

It was at that moment that I woke up (because I needed to go to the bathroom). When I told Nick he simply relied "You have issues" (which of course I do).

Let's hear it for more absurd dreams!

Graduating from law school...twice!

Nick graduated from law school on May 17th at Safeco Field. I know this was his weekend, but I couldn't help but be just a little proud of my accomplishment: I have now graduated from law school not once, but twice. Besides my little known law school graduation in 2002, it is apparently even more revered to survive three years as a "law school widow." This was a theme not only in the speeches given by the speakers, but in the personal congratulations we received. Apparently the people "congratulating" me were not aware that I have been practicing law myself for almost 6 years now, and, were not aware of the little known secret that the only thing worse than being the spouse of a law student is being the spouse of a lawyer (especially the first few years of practice).

So, that being said, congratulations to Nick, for getting through the nightmare of law school with (relative) grace and (inappropriate) humor, and for surviving living in a home with me through my first years of practice (affectionately dubbed "the alcoholic years"). Also please pray for me, as Nick begins studying for the bar exam and I am seven months pregnant- I'm not yet sure which of us will be more hormonal.

Why I love summers in Washington....

"You can love your dog, just don't love your dog." Janeane Garofalo...

Need I say more?

Results are in!

Despite the vote giving a slight edge today for baby girl Andrews, today our ultrasound showed us definitively that it is, in fact, baby boy Andrews gestating in my womb. All you haters can just pay up!

The ultrasound was awesome- we saw the fully formed spine, heart, brain, stomach, bladder, arms, legs, and even the face! The picture in the ultrasound doesn't do him justice, but it is apparently of his face, skull, and eye socket. It's not a very flattering picture, but it's the best we can do right now...

At any rate, thanks for all the votes and comments- that was fun! Hopefully I'll be back to posting soon.

Vote Vote Vote!

In honor of the Pennsylvania primary, and with a scant 8 days left until we (hopefully) find out the gender of our spawn, I thought I would post a poll of our own. My mother and Nick, as well as most of the people at work, are sure we're having a boy. My father and grandmother are equally sure it's a girl....As for me, all I care is that it's one or the other. Regardless, things are clearly set in place today, we're just hoping that he or she will make an appearance for the ultrasound person!

So, what do you think? Let me know!

Is that truffle in your pocket?

Well, I am finally posting after being back from Italy for three weeks. The trip was incredible- the only flaw was that it was too short! The jet lag was a little harder on me than it would usually be- the time change made me slightly nauseas – little Alf (alien life form) was quite confused by everything! I am happy to report, though, that now that I am well into my second trimester, Alf seems to be no longer trying to kill me!

Anyway, back to the trip: we had a blast exploring the hill towns of Umbria, Tuscany, and Rome. Nick’s inner Mario Andretti came out on the Autostrada, and he averaged about 160 km/hr. We saw real live Italian prostitutes- not just in Rome, but just on the side of the road in Umbria, right alongside the truffle hunters. Very random (this from the girl from Vegas)! I fared as well as could be expected without wine- Nick actually drank enough for him, me, and the baby. I also would like to say we saved a lot of money without me drinking, but since wine is cheaper than water in Italy, this would not be true.

Since being back, everyone asks us what our favorite part of the trip was, and I really can’t say. We really enjoyed the hill towns of Orvieto and Civita- not much to do in Civita, but it’s this incredible medieval town that’s built into a mountain. We spent a day visiting the Uffizi and the Academy in Florence- and because Nick was so well behaved at the art galleries, I granted him one day of wine tasting through the Chianti region. It was fun for me even though I couldn’t drink. Nick ignored all my really valid arguments as to why it’s a bad idea to purchase wine and pack it in our suitcases and we managed to get 7 bottles of wonderful Italian wines (all red!) back home without incident.

Everywhere we went we met wonderful people from all around the world. The first place we stayed, Locanda Rosati in Orvieto, was run by the exuberant Jean Pierro. We ate dinner family style on the grounds both nights we stayed, enjoying conversation with people from Holland, Australia, Italy, London, and yes, even Seattle.

In San Gamignano- the Disneyland of Italy- we got some much needed practice on our English skills. In the smaller hill towns, there are not as many English speakers, which is actually kind of nice. However, we did enjoy San Gimignano, and, as our agritourismo was a scant 2 kilometers away, we went into town for dinner on four occasions. San Gimignano at night is lovely, and the food was tremendous and quite inexpensive compared to the larger cities. The truffle gnocchi I had was so good that I am thinking I can never have it here again- certainly not the kind from the package that I make!

After leaving Locanda Rosati, I thought nothing could compare – then we checked into our room at Casanova di Pescille. By room I mean “apartment”. This place was fabulous, and we were the first guests of the seasons. This agritourismo was run by Roberto, whose family had owned the land since the sixteenth century. He, and his dog, Ettere, were quite friendly and welcoming. We loved the agritourismos and wouldn’t want to do it any other way. I am not a huge bed and breakfast fan (they’re always kind of creepy and remind me of being at somebody’s grandmother’s house), and I was worried agritourismos would be similarly creepy. This couldn’t have been further from the truth – We loved that where we stayed produced 60% of what they consumed, and the people were so friendly without being overbearing. In fact, upon returning home, Nick has made it his life’s goal that we will soon begin producing 60% of what we consumer. I told him if we could live on tomatoes, weirdly small corn husks, raspberries, and lettuce, we will be good to go. Oh, and rosemary in the winter. I won’t bore you any more with details- I could go on for days. I will just leave you with a few thoughts:

1) Europeans hate Americans for a reason: most are loud, obnoxious, demanding, and closed to change or differences;

2) Europeans LOVE Barrack Obama (except the Dutch, who inexplicably think that he will close our borders);

3) The Dutch are obsessed with Natalie Holloway, are sure Joran Vandersloot killed her, and want him out of their country;

4) The dollar is very, very weak, and Italians do not like this, as most of their tourists are American, German, or Japanese, but Americans are the only tourists who buy things.

5) The Japanese are almost universally hated by Europeans (hey, I’m just the messenger), as are the Germans. Notice that these groups go hand in hand with the highest number of tourists. I am assuming that Americans also fall into this group, but our new friends were too nice to tell us that.

6) Italians appreciate it when you at least try to speak the language, even if they laugh at your pronunciation.

7) I definitely regret not going to the Cinque Terre. Maybe on our next trip. Although, we would like to go to southern Italy too (but not until the dollar is better!)