Life is a Banquet

Make Room for Beta!

Beta Corner
Originally uploaded by wavybrains.

As promised in my last post, I did take some pictures of our progress getting ready for Beta (click the picture for the full set, and to see the details with notes). As I uploaded the pictures, I realized that I'm really proud of what we've done. I bring you the $60 nursery.

Doing a cheap nursery means letting go of your expectations.  This is doubly so if the "nursery" is actually going to be a part of your room. A Pooh Theme has no place in your bedroom, unless of course, you've already got the king-size Classic Pooh bedding, in which case, go for it.  But, I really think that the baby won't care. Making a space for baby is more about YOU feeling ready than the baby coming home and rejecting your choice of decor. It's already traded spaces--and if it's not a womb, it's not really interested in whether the carpet matches the drapes.

Instead, it seems to me that it's more important that you find a way to work the baby's stuff into what you already have and how you already live. Yes, having a couch and TV as key "nursery" design elements won't make the next issue of Better Homes & Gardens, but Freak and I spend a fair amount of time in the "sitting room" part of our master room. We enjoy watching movies together, and I imagine that I might want to do the same while nursing. Also, having our own TV area helps with sharing the house with my brother, and I think I might like having the option of watching a movie with Beta while Freak and Uncle Monkey kill people on the X-box upstairs.

But, I still wanted to signal that the area was "baby central." I cleared off the existing shelves and assembled all the "baby" stuff we already owned: kids books, stuffed animals, games, toys. Just collecting it all in one place and nicely arranging it on the shelves made the area look more "ready." I'm a big fan of grouping like items together and repeating design elements--it can make a space look more finished even when you haven't removed or added a thing.

Once this was done, I was able to think about the "big" items that we'd really need. A place for Beta to sleep, a place for Beta to be changed, and a place for Beta's clothes. A friend gave us a great changing table for upstairs, which I'm keeping in my office for easy access to the bathroom. I really didn't want to buy a changing table just for downstairs, but I wanted something. I had a dresser that wasn't being used, so I cajoled Freak into painting it a fun "kid" color, and I found a cheap changing pad at IKEA. I added a knitted box that I made last year, and put all the changing supplies in that.

Also at IKEA, I got two fun hampers that add a lot of charm to the space. One hamper will hold clean cloth diapers and the other will hold dirty clothes. As for the clean clothes, a few months ago, I made my smartest decision as a bargain queen. I said "yes" to every offer of free stuff, even though that "IF, IF, IF" jinx feeling haunted me. I just said, "Yes, thank you!" and stuck all the boxes in a closet until I was ready (okay, forced into) sorting them. Do not be picky about the freebies--you can sort them at home and donate what you really don't like/want/need.  I'm thinking that when all of the "cute clothes" are in the washing machine, I'll be really glad I said "yes" so often. Clothed is better than naked.

I said "yes" to both boy and girl stuff. If I need a receiving blanket, I'm not going to be fussy about color. As for clothes, I just washed all the "girl" stuff and packed it away separately. If Beta's a boy, I can just find someone else who needs the girl stuff, and if Beta's a girl, she's going to have a huge wardrobe of both pink and blue stuff. I have no problem putting a girl in blue. I'll knit her a bunch of pink hats.

I sorted the clothes and put the smallest stuff in the drawers, and put the rest in the closet labeled by size. I had a vintage cradle, and while it's not Beta-approved, it's perfect to hold linens. For the actual sleeping Beta, I got a moses basket on Craigslist. It's not a long term sleep solution, but it seems perfect for a tiny baby (we're planning to get a crib eventually, don't worry!).

When we went to IKEA, I tried to focus on getting useful things (the hampers) that also made the room more "baby friendly," and added the mobile to enhance that vibe. I'm doing similar things upstairs to try to incorporate the baby stuff in pleasing ways. Without jinxing myself. *

*We are so, so lucky to have gotten so much stuff for free/cheap/long-term loan. If you're one of those people who have given us stuff, know that you made my weekend much more fun! Yay for hand-me-downs! And if you're ever in a position to get rid of baby/kid stuff--try finding friends, neighbors, friends of friends to pass the love onto. Behold the power of "yes."

Financial Planning for Appliances and Animals

Babies are expensive. No doubt about it. Even after the car switch-over, we've still been making tentative lists and plans of what is needed, and how we will procure it. Unfortunately, we're not the only ones making plans.  The following transcript of a 3 a.m. closed door meeting was obtained:

Washer: I'm glad we could all make it today. As you are well aware, we've got to increase production people. Planned obsolescence is no longer cutting it. We need to go for all out break-down. We MUST reassert our place in the household!
Cell-phone: Shouldn't we take turns breaking?
Washer: Are you NUTS? Have you seen these people? They're looking at strollers! Doo-Dads! Gizmos! Things with straps!
Cell-phone: I suppose I could refuse to charge.
Washer: That's more like it! Who else has a plan!
Ants: We're here. All 10 zillion of us. 
Mungy: Who the heck invited you?
Ants: The locusts were busy. We got the call instead. We rode in with some strange moss. It's currently getting attached to the roof in key locations.
Laptop: I know I'm new here--
TV: Rub it in why don't you!
Laptop: But, I've got a doozy--the striped screen of death!
Everyone: OOOOOOOOOOOOh
Washer: That's what I'm talking about! Who else?
Honk. Honk.
Washer: Oh wait, I've got a memo here from the car. "Enjoyed meeting all of you at the Oil Bar last weekend. I've got some brake issues and a shoddy a/c to contribute."
Everyone: Cheer!
Washer: See, even the new guy can contribute. How about you animals? It's been 30 days since your last vet bill! I want to see some digits!
Mungy: We drew straws. I'm falling down the laundry chute tomorrow.   I don't have to actually break anything, but it's gonna take at least three x-rays to figure THAT out. We're talking serious money.
Washer: Is that really the best you can do? Inspire relief that your furry butt is okay?
Mungy: I can get so sick on the way to the vet that it leaks out the sides of my carrier and the people have to drive with the windows down in the pouring rain.
Ants: We're in awe.
TV: Seriously. Nice touch.
Washer: Okay, who else.
TV: I heard from the bed that it's planning some strange down-hill slope thing.
Washer: Always good to hear from our luddite members. I don't think this is quite enough--
Laptop: A huge unpaid bill was just discovered. Tears were shed.
Washer: Aw. Poor babies. Perfect. What else do you got in that tin brain of yours?
Laptop: The doctor switch isn't going to be free, you know. And, they took money out of savings to pay for a 4D ultrasound.
Washer: That does it! They're bringing in outsiders! This must stop! They've got to show respect to ALL of US first!
Freak's Computer: Sorry I'm late. I was too busy frying my back-up drives into crispy critters.
Mungy: Tasty.
Washer: Nice work!
Drill: You've inspired me. Instead of breaking, I'm going to go missing. Increase the agony level.
Washer: That's the kind of self-starter we all need.
Vacuum: You've inspired me. I'm going to start acting just slightly wonky, but I'm going to flood the house with vacuum ads.
Laptop: Hey, that's my usual gimmick!
Vacuum: Nothing stopping you from using it too!
Weed Eater: That ploy's for amateurs. I'm not breaking, but an expensive part is going to need replacing.
Washer: You whimp! That's nothing!
Weed Eater: They'll have to drive to 3 stores to find it!
Washer: Okay, okay, okay, you're trying here.
Weed eater: Well what do YOU have in store?
Everyone: Yeah! What are you going to do?
Washer: Just you wait and see! This is gonna be good.
Everyone (smelling immenient death): Oooooooh.

So how was your week? Hopefully cheaper and less stressful than mine? And cheer me up by sharing your stories of appliances breaking with awful timing, and cascading calamities.  I'll award the coveted Broken Remote to the best story!

Wisdom II

Law Three: The law of an old(er) house:  If your furnace won't start, and you try EVERYTHING to make it start and it still won't go, and you call the repair guy, and he asks, "Is there oil in the tank," and you say "yes," you better really mean yes.  Because otherwise, the price of your repair (because oh yes, it still needs a repair) just doubled.  If you merely THINK there is oil, there is not.

    Corollary to Law Three: If there is no heat, the cats will rename your WIP EeeeEEeeeEEee.doc and manage to change every setting on your laptop while napping on your keyboard. 

Law Four: The law of revision. If a page took you X amount of time to right it will take you 10 times X to revise it.  This law is absolute.  If you are absolutely, positively, certain that your character speaks only in active voice and really never overuses totally lame adjectives, she does not. 

    Corollary to Law Four: Each pass results in a better document. Really glaring errors like saying a missing NOUN or worse a missing VERB will not be discovered until pass five or greater. 
    Corollary to the corollary: Truly glaring errors will not be discovered until you hit send. 

I, Wavybrains

As the goddess which we all agree I am, I should not have to strain my back cleaning *certain* people’s long hair out of tub drains, weaken my knees bending for stray socks, hyperextend my shoulders vacuuming, and I most certainly should never have to foul my oxygen with the scent of over-ripe cat box. Unfortunately, despite the fact that I am ever so much more intelligent than that Bewitched chick, and would never wear sheer harem pants like that Jeanie broad, mother nature neglected to give me the talent to point at something and say “cleanius maximus immedius” or something like that.

 

$25,000 for a Toilet

I’m feeling a bit sympathetic towards the Pentagon today. You see, I never really understood those $25,000 toilets and other gross pork-excesses padding the defense budget, but now, I understand perfectly how one toilet can cost $25,000. Freak and I want a second bathroom, ideally attached to our new, oh-so-lovely master bedroom in the basement. Our house is a 2 bedroom, 1 bath home with about 1200-1500 square feet on the main level and an equal sized finished basement. Oh and an attic, ideal for further expansion. But, I digress. Since Mr. 37 joined the Scientist, I, and Freak, that makes four adults with one bathroom.  

So, we’ve been batting around bathroom plans, and lovingly stroked the porcelain at Home Despot while chirping naively about tile showers and glass block accents, and marveling at bargains! to be had in cabinetry. We, again being laughably naïve, figured we could do the whole shebang for about $5000, doing most of the work ourselves. Oh, we were wrong. Oh, how very wrong. 

First of all, cement is HARD. And impermeable. Which makes it an ideal basement floor. And exactly what you DON’T want to be slicing up and drilling through to lay a bathroom. Add several thousand just for all the cement work required. Next, remember what a bathroom is used for. All that water? All that grossness? It has to go somewhere. Because our house has one bathroom, it has one toilet stack. The basement toilet MUST connect to this stack. Now, we COULD use our preferred location, and add several grand for all the ceiling work that will be required + a pump to move the waste water from that location to the stack. OR, we could use the current laundry room area, save money, but add the trouble of framing out a new room. Either way, add a few thousand.  

And then, there are all those pipes, which hang from the ceiling, giving a nice “industrial edge” that just loudly proclaims basement. They will need to be re-routed. And that cement you just tore up? Well the flooring will have to be re-poured and leveled for that area. The absolute minimum this little project might cost? Any guesses? $10,000 from a well-known, low-balling contractor, with us doing pretty much everything past the pluming, flooring, and electrical. More likely: $15,000 with us doing the drywall, painting, trim work, installing the fixtures, and so on. Most realistically: $20,000-$25,000 with them doing most of the work. 

So, um, guess who WON’T be getting a bathroom for Christmas this year? I think I want to be a plumber and/or a contractor when I grow up. There’s lots of money to be made in selling $25,000 toilets. 

It's a Boy!

" Wavybrains and Freak proudly announce the newest addition to our household:  Roommate #2, hence force known as Zen.  Zen has returned from a nine month sojourn in China and will be joining Scientist in project pay-off Wavybrains' and Freak's mortgage.  Non-grandparents are not impressed."   

This explains my lack of posting in the last few days, as I've been cleaning like a mad banshee.  With each new addition to the household, I like to start on a positive, CLEAN note, as if we always live orderly lives and dishes always go in the sink.  I like to think that this encourages good behavior, not to mention makes the place more welcoming. 

Of course, Zen is returning with no furniture, and a bed would have probably been a tad more welcoming than clean carpet, but what can I say?  I had the nesting instinct.  I cleaned and fluffed, buffed and waxed, and that's just the living room.  Freak even got in on the act, using the weed-eater which last saw action sometime around the 4th . . . of July.   

We're excited because this moves us closer to the communal household of our dreams.  Of course, in MY dreams, there is MORE THAN ONE BATHROOM.  Clanna can't understand how I could even consider living with four adults and one bathroom.   Perhaps it has something to do with having grown up with FIVE people and one bathroom.   Or having been to countless conventions, dorms, and conferences where I've had to wait on a bathroom. 

We do plan to add a second bathroom, because while I CAN wait, I'm just a bit crabby doing so.  But, in his six months with us, Zen will tackling numerous remodeling projects.  Just as soon as we find the poor guy a bed.

Gone Fishin'

We're on vacation.  Okay, TECHNICALLY we have a REAL vacation to Reno coming up, but that's actually a WORKING trip for me (writing conference!! More Stress!! Oh boy!!).  But, we NEED a break.  Being slightly cash poor these days, Clanna helped me come up with a fabulous idea. We're on vacation here.  At home. Need us? Cell phones are out of service, sorry.  E-mail? Not checking at the moment.  Hammock? Occupied by the cutest husband around and a book of bathroom ideas? Breakfast? Cinnamon Pancakes.  Clean up? Not happening.  Moving furniture into the basement? Not today.  Naps taken already today? Two.  Freak is right now enjoying the "spa" with a long, hot shower and BATH.  Yes, my manly man takes bubble baths, and I believe that's what he's up to right now.  Massages are planned for later this afternoon. 

What's truly cool though is realizing that we have the perfect home for vacationing at home.  We have a hammock. We have diet sodas in the fridge and pitchers for iced tea. Enough dirty dishes fit in the dishwasher to accommodate a weekend of laziness.  We have enough curtains now to spend the day in our underwear.  What more is needed really?  Oh and we have BOOKS.  Stacks and stacks of books.   I'm only on the computer briefly here because the need to write was overwhelming, but suddenly, the reminder that I have BOOKS waiting has me itching to return to my vacation.

The To-Do list and the To-Worry list are offically missing in action for the next two days! Tell me how YOU vacation and unwind at home, dear readers, I want to do this more often. 

Driving Distraction

Freak has discovered that I am a small child, soothed by long drives in the car.  As the miles add up, and the flatness of Salem gives way to curves and views that remind us why we are here, my anxiety level plummets replaced by the sort of dreams that only happen in the passenger seat. 

Our drives together, and the long meandering conversations that resulted from them, dried up with the rain under the pounding spring sun urging us to "get things done."  And done we have, with our gorgeous garden and welcoming patio (and the weeds now only tease our ankles instead of taunting the neighbors as they reach for the sky), and the soon-to-be-done major basement remodel, and the vast unpacking of stuff from Freak's St. Louis house. 

And parts of us have been "done" too, dried up under the beating heat of stress and work, our tiredness has defined many an evening as we have napped together, and considered movie watching a major victory in stress-management.  But the urge to hit the road is never far from Freak's agenda, and as his personal stress has abated, he has gradually reclaimed the road as his personal relaxation zone. 

The aimless driving without deadline, without goals or objectives, is exactly what I need right now.  I need the wide open spaces on both sides of me, urging to consider the bounty of the future instead of wallowing in my own pit of uncertainty.  It is the uncertainty which has made me slightly crazed lately, both needy and despondent and an over-eager steam roller as I become increasingly desperate in my search for a purpose which would lend definition to the murky future. 

Tonight, we drove to Albany for the simple reason that we had never really driven around Albany as anything other than a gateway to points west.  We started out, not for Albany, but for the health food store, for a little Dagoba nectar of the gods to sustain us.  Then, the car took us on a tour of neighborhoods far out of our lifestyle as we imagined the lives we would lead to live in such sterile places, and from there Albany seemed like a natural progression of sorts.  We ate amongst the locals at a Mongolian Grill dive populated by skinny teenagers and roughened truckers and a few extended families toting tired children.

And now, I am more at peace than I have been in a long time, more able to absorb the lessons of the last few weeks of being a DIY guru that things do not have to be absolutely perfect to be absolutely wonderful and that the only person I really need to please is myself (which is much easier to do if I bring my standards back down to earth).  And for all my stress lately, I see the change which has been happening lately, in spite of all my whining-- as I step ever closer to the person I want to be, and creep closer towards allowing myself to enjoy having that life.  My life is an open road that I can't wait to explore.

Readying The Nursery

That's right . . .in addition to parenting a teenager (see last post), I've also become the proud parent of  . . . several dozen . . . ACTION FIGURES.   They are all boys (at least I think, from their gender neutral plastic bits it's kind of hard to tell) and are all quite healthy, encased in their little plastic shrouds. 

Apparently, I unwittingly adopted all of these creatures when I married Freak.  As luck would have it, our courtship was between Star Wars movies and all of his little action figure children were back in St. Louis, safely out of sight in large blue plastic tubs.  So, I did not have to face the reality of sharing my home with so many little men.   

Now however, fate has converged to make me the custodian of all these little pieces of uselessness.  While in St. Louis, Freak sold the house he owned there,  and boxed up the rest of his crap  belongings,  and after a long truck ride (Thanks U-Pack!),  my garage is now overflowing with boxes o'stuff. 

Stuff including two very large, VERY HEAVY, video games,  papers from every phase of Freak's life, question items of decor (A Star Wars throw?  The star ship enterprise as art? Assorted items of ex-girlfriend memorabilia? Merge has absolutely nothing on us).

The most pressing item on Freak's agenda is not organizing his stuff--nope it's acquiring more plastic Star Wars figures.  Apparently, all the little plastic men have been VERY lonely in St. Louis.  The companionship of their dozens of brothers is not sufficient.  Besides the DETAIL of the new figures! The new outfits! The limited editions!  I mean how could you NOT want to adopt this and give it a good home? 

Eight more little men have come to live with us--just since the weekend.  I'm not sure I'm prepared to deal with multiples like this.  How exactly does one care and feed for so many little men, all in need of love and attention?
So my question to you, dear Internet, is really quite simple. 

What sort of nursery would be appropriate for all my new children?  Their current blue plastic "room" is quite crowded.  I was thinking of some sort of bunk-bed shelving system that would allow their proud papa to admire them daily, but they are sensitive little buggers and must be protected from excessive heat and light.  They also need to be isolated from their animal siblings, who love a good plastic chew.  I want to be a GOOD mother to all my little plastic sons. Would a dark corner of the basement be inappropriate? There's a nice closet under the stairs - - -perhaps they could play Harry Potter . . . .

Piles of Stuff

My little will writing exercise has me thinking differently about the nature of possessions.  Stuff is inherently transitory in my world to begin with, but this puts a different sort of spin on my thinking. 

Clothes get stained, books loose their relevance, appliances break, decorating tastes change, and things get eaten.  I'm not a Vanderbilt and that is actually a very good thing.  I don't really have the mentality for heirlooms.  I USE tables, chairs, and couches, slipcovers, and books. 

I identify with what Scott over at Home Sweet Road said about how you get something new, and you are convinced that this time WILL BE DIFFERENT.  This time you'll be neat, and organized, and you'll keep it looking new . . . .

But "this time" is NEVER different.  I'm coming to accept some basic truths about myself.  One of which is that I care more about living in the moment than I do about protecting my stuff.  I give lip service to wanting a clean sofa, and pristine bed, but I still eat on both.  And I love clothes, but I also love rolling in the grass, playing with the puppy, eating drippy foods, tossing things in the dryer,  wiping my hands while cooking and a hundred other little actions that demonstrate my lack of regard for my clothing. 

I do not think about my progeny when I use a hot glue gun at the dining room table.  I do not give a wit about my heirs when I use a "good" cereal bowl to feed the dog.  What is here, is here for me. 

I resist any urges to "collect."  I have a deep aversion to knickknacks.  To me collections = clutter, and I'm a strong believer in getting rid of that which I do not find useful or beautiful or both.  Collections, no matter how nicely displayed are clutter, and should be limited. 

And when we're gone, what will it matter anyway?  This stuff--the pieces of life that we accumulate?  Will our collections, our purchases, our stuff be anything other than a burden on those we leave behind?  I actually found myself pitying my "heirs," reluctant to saddle them with my detritus, because I know that that which is important to me, probably isn't important to anyone else. 

I've tried renouncing materialism,  attempting to live a monastic life, but that simply isn't me.  I'm bargains and color, and shoes, and pots and pans, and picture frames.  I'm skirts and dresses and beauty products.  And I'm not sure I want to do any of it different--other than continue to be mindful of what I bring in, what is needed, what is needed, and what is destined to become clutter. 

In a way, asking whether something is something which I would leave to others is another way of saying, should I do this just to please myself or with a mind to others?  And the answer so often, is that I should do something just to please myself.  No one else cares what kind of book light I have.  My sheets and bedding are unlikely to be coveted by others. 

But that which I *would* like to leave behind, IS worth preserving, is worth working on--my scrapbooks, my writings, my paintings.  Certain pieces of furniture that I want to symbolize "Family" are worth the investment. That which would mean so much to me, that I would use it constantly, that it would come to be a treasured possession (oh say, a Kitchen Aid mixer) IS worth getting, worth the investment. 

In the end, my life is for me to live, and if my "stuff" lacks meaning for me, it is unlikely to HAVE meaning for anyone else.