The Halfway Point — Oh, Boy!

Yesterday marked 20 weeks of my pregnancy, which — if you use the weird-o pregnancy math that starts counting 2 weeks before sperm and egg have even had a chance to cast a sideways glance at each other, let alone work up the nerve to buy each other a drink, offer a lame pickup line or two, and see if anyone gets lucky — is technically the halfway point.

Halfway. That can’t be right. Didn’t I just get that positive pregnancy test, like, a month ago? Isn’t October still really, really far away? No? Huh. I’m starting to think maybe I should do something about preparing for this child.

Well! Surely I’m not completely unprepared, right? Let’s see what Tim and I have accomplished in the first half of my pregnancy:

  • We picked out a definite winner of a girl’s name and came up with several good contenders for a boy’s name. (Though, honestly, we have been procrastinating the boy’s name decision until we know for sure that we really have to make a decision about it. We’ve always talked about naming our son Jacob, but then Twilight happened, and we really would rather not have our son be one of fifteen Jacobs in his class, so now we’re back to the drawing board.)
  • I have successfully morphed into the stereotypical, crazy-emotional pregnant woman with an unreasonable, unprovoked meltdown approximately once a week since the second trimester began. One week it was the realization that it was bed time and there were no sheets on the bed that pushed me over the edge. Another week it was a nasty combination of exhaustion, hunger, and a complete lack of desire to eat anything we had in the house. Another week I just burst into tears and honestly had no idea why, which was really awesome for Tim who just wanted to help fix whatever was wrong but was having a really hard time knowing what to fix since I couldn’t tell him.
  • Speaking of Tim (watch out, it’s about to get mushy in here), I’ve also managed to be completely amazed by what an incredible, perfect husband he is (even when he has a crazy pregnant wife). Sometimes I am just overwhelmed with how much I love him, which obviously sets off the water works again.
  • In non-sentimental news, I’ve eaten my way through more giant boxes of frozen mozzarella sticks than I care to admit. Though I’m not ashamed to admit my joy over having left the constant nausea of the first trimester behind in exchange for near-constant hunger and the license to eat whatever I feel like. I do my best to make healthy choices most of the time, but really, this kid is hungry, and sometimes the only thing the child wants is a queso burrito from Q-Doba. And who am I to turn down the needs of my growing child?
  • I’ve spent countless hours reveling in the joy of feeling the baby dance around inside of me. I felt my first flutters over Mother’s Day weekend — how’s that for perfect timing? Not even born yet, and this kid already knows the importance of a good Mother’s Day present.
  • We have a general idea of how we want to decorate our nursery. We haven’t picked out a specific design yet, but we know we want it to be green with jungle animals. An adorable baby safari, if you will.
  • I’ve managed to grow a bona-fide baby bump and feel like I’m finally on my way out of the awkward “is she pregnant or just eating too¬† many burritos?” stage.

20 Weeks

  • Most importantly, we found out the other day that we’re having a boy! A son! A tiny version of Tim! Look how handsome he is!

It's a Boy!

I guess we’re going to have to get serious about finding a boy’s name that we like.

We are completely overjoyed to be having a son. Tim’s already planning father-son fishing trips, and I’m more excited than ever to meet this little guy.

  • Right after our ultrasound, we made our first purchases for the baby and can now proudly report that the nursery is no longer empty. This kid may not have a place to sleep yet, but at least he has clothes!


You see? I’ve accomplished a thing or two. And now that we’re firmly settled in the new house and Tim’s out of school for the summer, I anticipate much more rapid progress on real accomplishments like setting up the nursery, creating a registry, and deciding on a name. I’m going to get right on that, just as soon as I can tear myself away from that picture of my son’s adorable little face.

And Then We Were Home

We’ve been in the new house for almost a month. It took about a week to unpack and get everything in its place, and there are still a few things we need to do, both short-term (install cabinet hardware, get curtains for the living room, landscape the back yard, set up the nursery) and long-term (get a buffet for behind the couch, get a cute little cabinet for the powder room, put some color on the walls, build an amazing deck). But from the very first night we moved in and sat on the floor eating pizza because the table was covered in boxes and who knows where our chairs were, it’s felt like home.

A lot of that feeling could have to do with the fact that we’ve been coming to this house at least once a week for the last six months during the construction process, so we already knew every nook and cranny long before moving day. Sure, we had a few days of playing “Find the Light Switch,” but other than that, we have known this house inside and out for quite awhile.

There’s more to it than that, though. More than anything, this house feels like home because it is home. It’s the home we plan to stay in for the next 50+ years. It’s the home where we’ll raise our children. It’s a place we can really settle in without nagging thoughts about resale value or when we can move on to the next, better place. This is it. We’re home.


About a week after we moved in, I turned to Tim and said, “Remember that Saturday last summer when we didn’t have anything to do and you suggested we go to the Parade of Homes? That was a really good idea.”

So Long, Old House

We moved into the new house on Friday, and if you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, you already know that it’s the best house ever, I love every last inch of it, and I really can’t stop talking about how much I love it.

For a minute, though, I am going to stop talking about the new house. Because in all the craziness that was packing and getting ready to move and then moving during the busiest possible time of the month at my job, I didn’t have much of a chance to bid a fond farewell to the old house. While I’m not sad to have left that house behind, it was a very good house for us for over six years, and I feel it deserves a moment of reflection.

While I was very ready to move on and won’t really miss living in that house, there are three things that I will miss quite a bit:

1. My 5-minute commute, which allowed me to go home for lunch. My new commute is only 15 minutes, which isn’t bad at all, but it’s just a little too far for me to justify coming home for lunch on a daily basis. I loved being able to take a break in the middle of the day, go home, snuggle the dogs, and cook up a yummy lunch. Now I have to get back in the habit of packing a lunch, which is something I’ve never been good at. It’s a small price to pay, though, for the privilege of living in this beautiful new house.

2. The decks. Tim and my dad (with help from my mom, Tim’s dad, and a few friends) built a couple of really nice decks at the old house and, man, did I ever love those decks. They made hanging out in a somewhat pain-in-the-ass back yard very pleasant, and we spent a lot of wonderful summer evenings out there, grilling burgers and brats and roasting marshmallows in the chiminea. Tim and my dad are already discussing plans for a deck at the new house, and I know it’s going to be really great, but it’ll probably be at least a year before we have the budget to build it. I am thankful that last Thursday, on our last night at the old house, the weather was nice enough for us to take a break from loading the moving truck and enjoy one last dinner on the deck. It was the best Last Dinner at the Old House we could have had.

3. The bar. Remodeling the kitchen was our first major project at the old house, and as part of the project, we installed a beautiful solid wood bar that we’d found at a thrift store months earlier for a ridiculously low price. The bar has built-in cabinets and a wine rack, and we hung wine glass racks above it to add a little extra sparkle (and, let’s face it, we really had nowhere else to keep wine glasses in that little kitchen). It’s a gorgeous bar, and I am still a little sad we couldn’t bring it with us to the new house. However, the old kitchen would have looked weird without the bar, and we really don’t have a place for it in the new house, so it would have been stuck in the basement, alone and unused, for years until we got around to finishing the basement and finding a good spot for it. And, really, it fits perfectly in the old kitchen. I am sad to have left it behind, but deep inside I know it belongs in that kitchen where it hopefully will be used and loved for years to come.*

The old house is finally under contract and scheduled to close at the end of this month. We put a lot of love and hard work into that house, and I hope it’s as good to its new owners as it was to us.

*Do you think it would be wrong to ask the new owners of the old house to call us if they ever decide to get rid of the bar?