Made in Richmond

When I was little, I used to watch The Waltons* a lot. A LOT. I know, I blame my mother.

During one episode**, John Boy goes to the stay in The Big City - they didn’t call it that, but I couldn’t remember if it was *actually* a big city or some city that just happened to be close by. Before he goes, his mother packs him a supply of sandwiches (in waxed paper of course) so he wouldn’t have to spend all of his money on dining out at big city restaurants that were sure to be rife with riff raff.

So John Boy goes to The Big City and ends up staying in a boarding house. During his time in The Big City, John Boy gets robbed! They talk all of his money and give him a black eye and fat lip. So poor John Boy is left with no money, rent to pay, and a dwindling supply of pathetic, little sandwiches.

Eventually rent is due, so John Boy has to go see the owner of the boarding house and ask to stay there for free for a couple days  - but of course he’ll pay the money back, he’s a Walton, not some hoodlum. When he’s asking he has to say something horribly pitiful like “I just got robbed, I have no money, and I only have two sandwiches left,” navigating his pitiful words around his pitiful fat lip. The boarding house owner says no, but thankfully some City Woman also staying at the boarding house overhears the conversation and gives John Boy some money to cover his rent.

For some reason that image of John Boy standing in the parlor of the boarding house with his fat lip and stupid little sandiwches, having to ask for a break with the rent broke my heart. It made me 1) never have to be in a position like that and 2) never want to watch someone be in a position like that.***

So thank you, The Waltons. Thank you.

*I can still name all 7 Walton children (I did have to check Wikipedia for one of them - Jason Walton, how could I forget you - you were the musician!)

**I was 8 when I saw the episode, so the details are a little hazy. But the pity I felt? I still feel it *right here.*

***I told Ross about this for the first time yesterday while we in the car on the way up to Ikea. I had packed the sorriest excuse for a peanut butter sandwich to eat on the way up. As I sat nibbling on it, the feeling I got while watching that episode for the first time smacked me in the face. So, I thought I would share this unknown tidbit about myself with my husband of 5 years. Marriage to me, the twists and turns never end.

(Thanks to Patience for linking to it here.)

Smallville. Oh, Smallville, I fought you in the beginning, but you were my only form of entertainment for the 2 1/2 weeks we spent waiting for our FiOs hookup. Now you are all I think about.

The color of the baby’s room. It’s called Vintage Orange. People doubted us, but OMG it looks so happy.

Cinnamon toast. No explanation needed.

Our new quiet street. Remember all of those posts about incessant barking? Shooter barely makes a peep all day, what with the lack of constant riffraff outside our door.

That it’s September. That means it’s almost fall, which means it’s almost my birthday, which is just a few weeks before the wee babe makes his/her arrival.

Scene 1: Soda fountain at Arby’s

As I’m standing there filling up my cup of caffeine free root beer, a woman of about 60 lines up next to me. At first I think nothing of it. But the I start to realize that she’s starting to violate the social contract of how much personal space the average person prefers. I also notice that she’s intently looking at my belly, my face, my belly, and my face again. Giving in, I turn to face her. She takes one more look at my belly and says three words to me…

“Carrying low. Boy.”

***

Scene 2: The discount tables outside of Linens ‘n’ Things

I’m shuffling through a display of super cheap hand towels when I notice two women standing just to my right. They are blatantly pointing at me and discussing something enthusiastically. Eventually they make their way over to where I’m trying to ignore them. One finally speaks up…

“Excuse me, what are you having?”

“We didn’t find out.”

“Oh, because it’s definitely a girl because you’re carrying so low.”

Right.

I had my glucose screening today. Here’s how it went down…

I woke up at 6:45. I couldn’t eat breakfast because huzzah! you’re not allowed to eat or drink anything after midnight the evening before you take the test. Do you know how torturous that is for a lady in her third trimester? Very.

I arrived at LabCorp at around 8:15 to find a jam-packed waiting room. As I signed in, I noticed a sign by the desk saying “If you’re here for a glucose screening, please tell the attendant immediately upon arrival.” So I did. I then proceeded to cut in front of the approximately 25 people who were in line ahead of me because apparently the glucose screening trumps all other tests.

I waddled back into the exam room - that’s what I do now, what with the fetus camped out on my bladder, making me feel like I’m going to pee in my pants about 87% of my waking hours. The nice lady took a vial of blood and then asked me to down a bottle of what looked like Hawaiian Punch but tasted like warm Dimetapp. The first couple sips weren’t so bad. By the end of the bottle, I thought I was going to throw up. Except I would have thrown up nothing because, I’m sure you all remember, I hadn’t eaten breakfast.

She then escorted me to a holding area where I sat in a tiny plastic chair for one hour, waiting to see how my body would react to the sudden and ridiculous influx of sugar.

A few minutes after sitting down, I definitely felt quite the rush. The baby must have felt it, too, because there was much kicking and flipping. That lasted about 10 minutes.

And then came the crash.

I spent the next 45 minutes nodding off and almost falling out of m tiny plastic chair. Finally, she came back to get me so she could take *another* vial of blood. I almost fell asleep in the chair AS SHE WAS DOING IT.

The next thing I knew, I was at work and the bag of Wheat Thins I had brought with me was empty.

Hopefully I didn’t cause any major highway incidents during my drive, because I do not recall a single second of it. Or the eating of the Wheat Thins.

Navigating my cart around stunned UR freshman who just can’t figure out which laundry basket they should buy.

Having to pee 4 times in the 45 minutes I was there because SOMEONE is camped out on my bladder.

Realizing that none of their maternity jeans (or anyone’s, really) fit me. And then almost crying in the dressing room because PANTS I HATE THEM.

Watching the checkout guy’s face turn red when he had to get a price check on the breast pump accessories set I was buying.

Listening to the frantic cries of a newborn whose mother was too busy texting to to notice that her child’s diaper had EXPLODED POOP ALL OVER THE CAR SEAT.

You’d think that as I now *can* nest, I would actually *be* nesting.

Not so much.

The house looks pretty much the same as it did on Sunday. Do I care? No. Because for a good long while I wasn’t even sure we were going to get this house. So I’m perfectly fine living in chaos for a while, as long as the chaos is in *this* house.

And let’s be honest, who wants to unpack when you could be eating cereal and watching The Mary Tyler Moore show on hulu?

Exactly.

You would think what with the stress of selling and buying a house finally being over, I would have experienced a nice, solid sleep last night.

Not so much.

After going to bed at 10:30, I woke up at 4 ready to go.

I like to think of this not as a result of my insane tendency to obsess over details like where we will put all of our furniture in the new house and more as a blessed event in which the Good Lord is preparing me for being awoken by the squawks and screeches of a delightful newborn in a few short months.

It’s going to be a long day.

After the constant uphill battles, I’m starting to feel like I can say that we will be moving into our new house next week.

There were issues with appraisals and inspections that made me start to think that maybe this wouldn’t happen. But the appraisal issues got figured out this week and today a structural engineer confirmed that everything is good to go with the new house.

So, save any issues that could come up with paperwork, on Thursday we will be saying goodbye to this house and taking position of the house we will call home for a long time, the house we will bring our babies home to.

It’s starting to feel really, really good.

RVANews has commenced with it’s second annual rebuttal to Richmond Magazine’s Best & Worst list. Or as I like to call it, the “WTF, Richmond Mag?”

Nominations started yesterday and go through the 17th. Go forth and opine.

(I should also note that my good friend The Suze composed this article, and I must say, she was on fire with this one. ON FIRE.)