Monday, October 15, 2007

From Most Requested to More Requested

More, please:
1. Photos.
Of: more finished dishcloths, an almost finished dishtowel, finished knit pieces for Blu, and a barely begun "nursery" aka "disaster with ray of hope" as the closet is being redone and the carpet is half ripped out and I'm so excited to see the bits of potential, but in the meantime, all is enshrined in plastic.

2. Air.
BabyCake is making a classic New Yorker's real estate grab. He's currently negotiating with the ribs for expansion, but in the meantime, I find myself panting just a bit after meals, because there's limited space here, and when my stomach is full, there's less room for lungs. It almost literally means I'm holding my breath for the last 8-12 weeks of baby anticipation. It's funny - I keep almost writing "until baby arrival" but the baby has arrived. He's right here, practicing his dance moves and keeping me company. I'm just not sharing his dance moves in public for a few more weeks while he gets ready. He says he's ordered a special "birthday suit" for his debut.

3. Light.
Part of the lack of photos is due to lack of daylight during the hours in which I am home. On this count, I could add: less requested: day job. And also, more requested: naps.

4. Space.
Mostly in clothing, though I could always kick a few choice slow-walkers on the sidewalk as well. I think it's high-larious when people ask me "so do you think you'll actually get bigger?" Um... If the baby was fully grown now, he'd come out. Why would we leave him in for another 8-12 weeks? Because he needs to get bigger. How will he get bigger while I stay the same size? He won't, we won't, we'll both get bigger together. My pants and shirts, however, don't seem to be with the program of "growing together." They seem to be getting tighter, in part of the air-robbing conspiracy, see item #2 above.

5. Stuff.
Actually, this is a total drag. I have all the usual instincts to get rid of stuff, stuff, stuff, a household full of stuff. I think it comes with pregnancy, though I don't know if it's really nesting or just an attempt to make room for this giant belly I'm growing. Or to lighten the load somehow. And at the same time I have to clear out everything for belly and then baby - I have to acquire things for baby. I don't have to acquire things for the belly, unless you count ice cream. We registered on Amazon this weekend, and honestly, you would have thought Mr. Cake was asking me to eat tacks (nooooo, I don't want any more stuuuuuuuuff), but now I feel hugely relieved to have a list, at least. And if you're dying to get me something cute, precious, beautiful, lovely, overpriced, and completely unnecessary, you won't find this on the registry, but right here at the MoMA store online.