I have several things to talk about today, so I decided to whip us all up a nice little batch of blogger potpourri.
Yesterday, Owen and I found out that we have been pre-approved for our mortgage. Apparently, all we have to do now is show the lender that Owen wasn’t lying and we will be able to officially own the house we live in. We’ve been living here for close to two years with a rent to own deal in place. Our rental agreement expires on April first (notice that’s two weeks before Sam’s scheduled debut) and I was freaking that we were going to end up having to move if we didn’t get something in place soon. Though it’s not the house of our dreams, it’s the house where all our stuff is right now, and there’s something to be said for that. Also, we love the lot and the location and it has a lot of potential. It’s also a fairly decent location for the golf shop.
In other and almost as exciting news, as of today, the contract for our beach house for the summer is currently en route. Translation: vacation is ON. Amy, our rental negotiating agent, has done a FANTASTIC job selecting and negotiating this year’s location and gets major kudos for her negotiating prowess. Well done, Amy! It’s a brand new house, 500 feet from the ocean with 9 bedrooms, 9 baths, 2 pools, 2 hot tubs, two game rooms and an elevator. It sleeps 23. Click here to check it out. Paradise, here we come. It will be Sam’s first vacation. My only fear: how can we ever top this? I’d hate to have his vacation experiences peak when he’s two months old.
Vacation countdown: as of today we’ll be there in 22 weeks and 3 days. (Sounds a little better than 157 days, doesn’t it?)
Public declaration: I hereby refuse to go back to work from my maternity leave under any circumstances until I have spent my week at the beach.
Last night at Lamaze, things started to get weird. The instructor wanted me to “breathe into your spine.” I do not know how to do this. Instead, I just concentrated on simultaneously blocking her out while also not falling asleep there in the dark with my two pillows, my comfy mat and the soft music. Actually, I only had one pillow as the “partners” were given permission to lie down and relax as well and Owen inadvertently stole one of mine. Also, I was careful not to laugh out loud.
Also last night we were given a list of affirmations for us to use to build ourselves up for the big day. There was a list for both the moms and the partners. The Instructions say to “write them down many times during the course of week” and also to “say them out loud and use your name in the sentences.” Example: Sarah is a strong and capable woman. I wish all the affirmations were so…um…comforting. Here, however, are a few choice selections of what I feel are the more…well…comical affirmations:
I am welcoming my contractions. (Who are we kidding here? I’m terrified of them and, if it were acceptable, would almost prefer a general anesthetic and then waking up the next day with my baby there waiting for me.)
I embrace the concept of healthy pain. (Again, who believes this crap? Parenthood is looking more and more masochistic to me every day. I embrace the concept of anesthetics and analgesics. )
My uterus is strong and dependable. (This sounds to me like a Chevy commercial. Are we planning a cross-country trip in my uterus? Notice it doesn’t mention cargo space. “My uterus is cramped with very little leg-room and no trunk.”)
Though I love to make jokes about Lamaze, it is also true that every time we go I end up crying at least once. I have no idea why, but I do.