*ahh* I almost feel as relieved as I should.
First (as always, right?) a little background. When Fynn was born, Tom took a (blessed) month off from work. During that time, I pretty much stayed upstairs in our room with Fynn. She nursed all the time (so imagine my shock at what nursing her during a growth spurt was like!). I'm pretty sure had the same bedroom hangout routine with Madelyn, only our apartment was so tiny that no matter where everybody else was, our bedroom was right there. Bigger home makes the separation more significant, I think. Plus, Tom was busy taking care of Madelyn this time, as well as hanging out with Corey, preparing meals, doing the shopping and cleaning up the messes that Maisy was suddenly making all over our carpet. (Yes, I almost always realize how lucky I am.)
He was awesome. My favorite part of the whole deal was how much time he spent having fun with Madelyn. For the better part of the last year he'd been working full time at his unfulfilling day job and then putting in crazy hours trying to get his business off the ground. He frequently had commitments four nights a week (gotta save one night for tennis or softball or whatever the fix is at the time), plus he spent about 10 hours on Saturday either in training or trying to drum up more appointments for the upcoming week. Many weeks Mad only saw her Daddy for an hour or so on Saturday morning, all day Sunday and the occasional drive home together on Thursday (sports night). She loved him, no doubt, but she hardly saw him and didn't go to him for much of anything. Now they are best buddies and she clearly adores him.
The downside is that he hardly got to spend any time at all with Fynn. Although Fynn and I came downstairs periodically, I found the air conditioning blowing on us almost no matter where I sat. The one place it didn't hit us was in a seat Mad especially enjoys using as her own personal jungle gym, but only when the chair is occupied. So we stayed up and everybody else mostly stayed down.
The long-term effect is that Tom's not as comfortable with Fynn as he was with Mad at this age. Last weekend I convinced him to put Fynn in the Moby wrap while I got my hair lopped off. It worked beautifully. He wore her again today, twice. The first time I helped a little with getting the wrap on (right up to his comment, "This is a little like having my mom help me get dressed when I was a little... hey, no... I didn't mean it like that!"). The second time he did it entirely himself.
I used my free time to get a shower and also to work on the table and chairs that still need to be clear-coated. Between Corey and I, everything has it's first coat. A little buffing and a couple more coats and we may actually be able to use this fricking thing before it's two years old. At this point, though, we're racing against the weather. Fall is a pretty windy time in So Cal, and it's especially windy up here. Sometimes it sounds like a train's passing through if we have a window or two open in the evening. We could only work until about 2:15 today before it started kicking up. Seemed to be bringing a storm in, but we'll see. Corey and I are in complete agreement that we cannot believe we ever used to enjoy staining furniture.
The table and chairs aren't perfect. Heck, none of the pieces we've done together are, but there are some ridiculous errors on the chairs. However, after spending whatever free time we could find over the last month when it wasn't windy or humid (gah! didn't I move to the middle of an arid desert?) just trying to get the chairs "fixed," I have decided that those annoying frustrating glaring mistakes areas just add character. Oh, and I've decided that I'm never ever ever having chairs with spindles again. Spindles suck.
*ohm*
This evening I was telling Tom (as Fynn nursed for pretty much her second solid hour in a row) that I feel pressure to get something done when he's got her. It's nothing he's doing or saying. I'm putting the pressure all on myself. So tonight, when Fynn nursed herself to sleep for the third or fourth time in three hours, but then woke up again as soon as I tried to put her down, I changed tactics. And her diaper. And took her downstairs to Tom. I believe he's rocked her to sleep.
I should be sleeping now, too. He probably is sleeping in the glider. Instead, I came online to type with two hands and without hunching over. I've had about 45 minutes of free time. It's been lovely.
But I believe I hear a tiny, but effective set of lungs calling for me.
Well the rest of this Labor Day weekend was aptly named. Between yesterday and today we managed to complete three projects on our list.
***Out of 55 projects, seven are complete; five are semi-complete.
Two of the three that were wrapped up included elevating our air conditioning units and organizing the pantry. Neither was earth-shattering, but they are done. I have a list on the computer. It's nice when I can double-strikethrough something. The third involved pulling out a bunch of slag concrete that was dumped when the house was built. The previous owners never did anything to the backyard, so it's on us.
Corey and Tom have spent time over the past few months busting up the concrete with a sledgehammer. We let it take that long because we didn't know what we'd do with it once it was out, but now we have a couple of options. One is to have someone come pick it up for $51/ton. A freaking bargain as far as I'm concerned. The other is to load it into my Escape and unload it somewhere else (a concrete recycler, not just... you know... somewhere). Although we're pretty sure it's not a ton, there is enough that we'd probably have to make three trips. In my car.
Aside from that, serious progress was made on a couple of other big projects. Our table is nearly ready for clear-coating. Sure, I thought so last weekend, but once I got to see it in the light of day... not so much. Before I can get to the clear coat, however, I've got to finish staining the underside. Why? Because I have a son who almost never finishes anything, and I'm preparing to break that cycle with my daughter. I picture her in a couple of years asking why it was stained where no one will ever see.
"Because we do our tasks to completion," will be my response.
Yeah, I'm a planner.
Three out of eight chairs may also be ready for clear coats, but I won't know until next weekend.
In our backyard there is a slope. It's not huge, maybe three feet tall. It used to have a 5-6 foot level top with the incline taking another 3-4 feet. The line has been drawn and a significant portion of that slope no longer exists. Maisy's a little confused by the whole thing, but she'll be fine in... oh... three years or so when we finally complete the backyard. (Please, oh, please don't let it take that long!!!)
I feel like I've made up for the extremely lazy Saturday. Not sure if I'll ever make up for going out front without a bra, but whatever.
In Corey news, he still doesn't get why he was suspended. I am not harping on it, but I agree with the school. Even when we weren't working our tails off, he was. He will be doing the same tomorrow at Grammy's house. (I assume he will. She said that was fine three days ago, but I'm awaiting confirmation.) Not surprisingly, he is anxious to get back to school.
Mad has learned two new words today. For Corey, she says, "Co." There's a hint of R at the end. When I had her show Corey, the expression on his face was absolutely priceless. She's been saying some multi-syllabic form of brother for months, but this really got him in the heart. And tonight she said, "Du!" which is short for dude. Unfortunately, that's been how I've started out any exclamation when I'm annoyed, surprised or overly dramatic for the past few months. She spent a few minutes saying it as she climbed up on new pieces of furniture (as in ones she can newly get atop). In addition to a trunk, the couch and a cooler (furniture? well... for now), she can also get into her wagon.
In neighbor news, the first guy to come along and greet us when we moved in stopped by yesterday. He's a nice enough guy, but seriously... I just don't think he understands life. Or relationships. Or the fact that everybody does not need to hear what race a person is to decide whether they are good or bad.
On his dating life: It's not bad, but could be better. I, who try not to give advice (okay, sure... it is mainly because I mostly don't want to hear too much advice from others), gave him a few key pointers. One, figure out what you really want. Write it down and make it clear to yourself. Then you can look at a woman and know if she meets your needs and desires or not. And two, you'd better wear a condom with that one. (Standard advice for anyone dating a woman with three kids from multiple dads, I think.) Not bad for our third conversation.
For the third time, he has identified someone by race first. In this case it had to do with some new neighbors. When they moved in, the people next to them apparently decided to move out. To me, it shouldn't have anything to with their race. The fact that they have pitbulls, play loud offensive music, drive loud cars and completely ignore any attempts at friendliness is enough.
On a side note (yeah, like this whole blog hasn't been one big side note from the start), I've switched to the new editor. It seems okay except for one thing. The colors are different. For that alone I may switch back. If anyone knows how to get a better selection of colors, please pass along the tip!
