Sunday, July 15, 2012

What do you get...

...when you put a hormonal pregnant lady and her sentimental husband together with books, toys and various saved items from their childhoods?  A looooong day of basement/garage clean-out.  On the plus side, we identified a number of items to use in the nursery.  And, we threw out a ton of stuff.  (When I ordered a 10 yard dumpster, we both thought, we'll never even fill this up a quarter of the way!  We were wrong.)  On the minus side, I spent part of the morning sobbing in a corner whilst reading The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle, one of my favorite Beatrix Potter books.  But all in all, a very productive day although it could have been MORE productive had Nick not stopped me every time I even looked like I was going to pick up a box.  We're still not done but we've made enormous headway and we actually had a really good time together.  Go, team!

That said, I completely ignored everything I said yesterday about resting before I was actually tired.  We were just on such a roll and is there any better feeling than ridding your house of clutter and junk and STUFF?  It's addicting and I didn't want to stop.  Eventually, though, I had to and I spent the rest of the afternoon in a sniffly/sneezy semi-napping state.   The only reason I emerged was because Nick promised me dinner.   We ran a few errands, grabbed a bite to eat and then did some shopping.

The weird thing about going through IVF treatments is that you tend to avoid baby stores like the plague...before we got pregnant, it always felt either painful or like we were going to jinx ourselves somehow.  Last night, we happened to walk past Baby GAP and I asked Nick if he wanted to go in and having had a full belly and still basking in the glow of our triumph over the basement, he said yes.   There was general squealing and oohing and ahhing (not just from me, by the way) over the baby clothes.  And, then we started looking at the preemie outfits and simultaneously convulsed from the cuteness of the teeniest tiniest clothes known to man.   The sales clerks asked us repeatedly if we needed help, but we were in a world of our own.  I am writing this down now, so that someday when the twins have spit up or otherwise marred their teeny-tiny adorable outfits with bodily fluids too horrible to discuss here, we can remember that there was a time when just looking at said outfits brought us immense joy.

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