Nero, part 2

So, I'm a nero. It's true.

I have a weird obsession with Ego Googling, seeing how often sites about me come up in a Google search for Andrew Heiss.

I recently almost completed my personal website, made for professional, job-hunting purposes, since employers are now getting in the habit of Googling potential employees.

The site isn't all the way done yet, but it's at the top of my ego search! I beat out all those other Andrew Heisses, like the one born in 1902, the one who died in 1873, the one who plays fantasy card games, the student at The College of New Jersey, the rancher webmaster, or Eric Andrew Heiss, former BYU student who has a blog with an address close to ours. Now I just need to keep it up there!

How many other people get this excited over having their name be at the top of the list?

I rock.

At last!

We finally finished the dresser today--after a whole week of it sitting in our breezeway. I'm sure our neighbours will be very pleased to see it gone!

We didn't really have a whole lot of it left to do--we had already given it a second coat of varnish on Monday night--we just had to wash it off and put the knobs back on.

It was a difficult project to finish because, although I did help, I was trying not to help too much. I didn't want to breathe in the fumes from sanding or painting, so this is really mostly Andrew's work. Since he works nights 3 nights a week, it was hard to find the time to get it done.

He finished his American Heritage midterm today and we felt that it would be a good idea to finish up the dresser today and get it in place in the baby's room...before the baby comes home and we still have blankets and clothes strewn all over her bedroom.

We think it turned out rather well, considering we have no prior experience with such projects.

Before...

The power of a compliment

Disclaimer: This is not supposed to be a post to fish for compliments...it's just that when you're going on 39 weeks being pregnant, it is, at times, rather difficult to feel beautiful. Or energetic. Or happy, for that matter.

Andrew's always really nice about it though.

On Sunday we were visiting with a couple in our ward, Matt and Bonnie, who are due with their first child in September. Both Bonnie and I were discussing how we felt that the first trimester went really well for us.

Our husbands both looked at us like we were crazy and then started laughing.

"You survived on juice for like a whole month!" scoffed Andrew.

"You dry heaved all the time!" laughed Matt.

"But I never actually threw up..." Bonnie and I shot back, nearly simultaneously.

So, apparently things didn't go quite as glamorously as we were so fondly remembering them.

I suppose it is true, then. You do lose your mind. Bonnie and I were reflecting on the nice, warm feeling of knowing there is a baby inside, while our husbands were remembering trying to console a sobbing wife.

When we got home, I said to Andrew, "It wasn't that bad. Not compared to other pregnancies!"

He agreed, but I think it was only to placate me because last night he said in passing, "You were really nice to be around every day of this pregnancy...at least one time a day."

Just wait until I get really bad morning sickness. Then he will reflect on this pregnancy with longing.

He is really nice though. He always tells me I'm beautiful and holds me when I'm sobbing for no apparent reason. And is pretty much my personal slave.

But what option does he have? None!

If he said, "Wow, you look completely exhausted, uncomfortable, and huge. Oh, and I think you could stand to lose a little weight in front," he would be a very sad man, indeed. So we see that the only option he has is to tell me that I look stunning, even when my eyes are red and swollen from crying, my face is completely broken out, and I am bulging out of my clothes (because no matter what anyone says, I'm not buying new clothes to wear for the last 2 weeks of pregnancy--it's not in my nature).

The same thing goes for family and friends. They all say that I look cute, no matter what I'm wearing or what kind of day I'm having.

It's not that I don't appreciate people telling me I look good, it is just that sometimes I really can't see where people are coming from. Furthermore, it is almost an obligation of theirs to tell me such things, so sometimes it's a little hard to believe.

That's why I really appreciate it when complete strangers mention that I'm a "cute pregnant lady."

Like today, I was on my way into the restroom and this girl was headed out so we did that weird dance-thing in front of the door. After we decided who was going to go through the doorway first she said, "What a cute pregnant lady you make!"

What I wore today

I was like, "Oh, thanks..." but I was thinking, "Awww...so Andrew meant it this morning."

Or on Sunday when Ruth Peterson asked me where I got my maternity clothes (because I have so many maternity clothes: 5 tops) and, pointing to me, said to her husband, "That's just what I want to look like when I'm pregnant!"

Again, "Awwww...he really meant it today."

Who knows, maybe he does mean it everyday.
(Pssst...Andrew, that's your cue!)

Dukie

As Andrew so aptly put it, "she was the most contented little cat there ever was."

She enjoyed attention but was a little too lazy to get it. If you called her over to you she would get up, walk two or three steps, and then plop back down, rest for a minute, get up, walk a few more paces, and then plop back down. Eventually she'd make it over to you, if she didn't decide that an ear scratch wasn't worth the effort first.

Dukie was 14 years old, which is apparently equivalent to 72 human years. That's pretty old.

Last Tuesday, the Heiss girls took Dukie to be put to sleep. She just wasn't a contented little kitty anymore, having a tumor and all sorts of other icky things happening to her. Old age sure is fun...

It was hard for Emily, especially, who was worried Dukie would die while she was out on orchestra tour. Emily can't remember life pre-Dukie. It was hard for Sarah, for whom Dukie was a best friend. It was hard for...everyone, I guess.

I think I even had a harder time than Andrew, but then again, maybe he's just not so good at expressing his emotions.

For more pictures of Dukie, see Karen's blog.

Circle of Joy-oy-oy

It's always nice when friends come to visit and you plan a party for them so they can see everyone and you realize just how long its been since you've seen everyone who lives close by. It doesn't really make sense that you never see anyone--since they live close by, but you just don't seem to do it. Kind of like how families always get together at weddings and funerals and everyone says, "We should get together more often!" but then it never happens.

Well, we had our second Circle of Joy party last night and just as a run down: we haven't seen Amber, Joy, Matt or Cristina since the last Circle of Joy party. We haven't seen Becky since our wedding. I haven't seen Shallee since her wedding. I see Shaun every once in a while in the library. We had dinner with Marquita and Daniel just a while ago... I can't even remember the last time I saw Rebecca. I saw Andrea at her "homecoming." And my brother, well, he's my brother--I see him more often than just at funerals.

I hadn't even met Becky and Rebecca's husbands, or Amber's baby, or Cristina's fiance. Sheesh. It's just been too long.

We had the party at Andrew's parent's house because, well, our house would just be too small. When Karen asked how many people we invited, I said, "About 14."

"You know that many people?" she jabbed.

After giving it a moment's thought, I had to be honest, "No," I said, "It's just that everyone is married now so that doubles our guest list."

Apparently we only have 7 friends. And their spouses. Oh, and then children, too. I think our total count was 23 people.

It helped me realize just how different young members of our church can be. Here we are planning a party and thinking of how to entertain the children, while my non-LDS friends haven't even considered children yet. Just an interesting little difference.

Overall, I think the party was a success. Andrew worked the BBQ without overdosing on propane. Maya didn't succeed in following anyone out of the backyard. And everyone seemed to have a good time.

We had thought about playing some games, but as it turns out we were happy just to chat. After all, everyone had a lot of catching up to do. We had to go over how the newly weds met, discuss the upcoming births of children, as well as plans for after graduation, and many other interesting things that we've all done in the past few years.

Oh, we did break out the duplos for the children to play with. As you can see from the pictures, Maya got some use out of them but the two most interested were Andrew and Becky's husband, Matt. Maya was entertained for about 10 minutes, but Andrew and Matt were kept occupied for a good 45 minutes. They made a beautiful castle-store-thing.

I made this collage last night at the insistence of my husband. It was midnight...so I didn't measure anything... It was midnight...so I lost all sense of color... It was midnight...just keep that in mind.

Whines and Spirits

I certainly hope I am nesting. We didn't accomplish half the things I wanted to today...but I did do the dishes, make lunch, and help refinish the baby's dresser. That means that we didn't do the shelves in the storage closet, nor did we clean up the rest of the house. I didn't take a nap today either, though, so that alone is an accomplishment.

We actually didn't finish the baby's dresser today, either (that will, hopefully, be Saturday).

The dresser really was pretty ugly, but it's a good, solid dresser.

Before

Abra repainted it sometime a long while ago. She used acrylic paints to make pink and white swirls on the dresser, and then used silver permanent marker to decorate the handles and things. She told me it was cool. I thought she was cool, so I thought the dresser was cool long after anyone else did. I kind of inherited it after she moved out of the house, still under the impression that it was cool. I was 13--what can I say?

Well, obviously it isn't that cool (sorry, Abra), so when it was our only dresser we hid it in our closet. We then got a nicer dresser from Aunt Nikki and moved this dresser into what has become the baby's room. There is no where to hide it in there, so we decided that in order to celebrate Independence Day we would be independent and refinish the dresser.

Our first step was to call Andrew's mom and ask her what she thought we ought to do. She lent us some of her power sanders. We borrowed Jacob...and then set out to do everything else all by ourselves. See how independent we are?

We went to Home Depot to find our supplies, with Jacob. That was an adventure. He's a moody teenager with a little bit of hyper activity going on. That makes for an interesting combination.

He was eager to come with us, we think, since he hurried to exit his computer game and follow Andrew out the door...but he complained the whole time. He complained about changing his clothes. He whined about the music we listen to. He griped that he had to leave his friends. He muttered about Andrew's driving. He fussed about getting back home on time.

At Home Depot, Andrew left Jacob and me to choose a finish while he found sandpaper. Jacob was frustrated because I didn't know what we were looking for, and certainly whined about that too. Instead of helping, he pushed a cart around and around and around and asked questions that had nothing to do with choosing varnish. By the time Andrew came back I was going crazy.

"He's driving me crazy!" I said.

"Oh, it's just good practice for when we're parents," said Andrew, who then whistled to Jacob like you would to a dog and said, "Here, Jakey!"

Jacob immediately put the brakes on and started following Andrew around obediently.

I have yet to determine if Jacob started behaving better because he was embarrassed by Andrew or because he's somehow intimidated by him.

Well, we finally found everything that we could think of needing and headed home. The boys went to work sanding the dresser while I started scrubbing the handles. It took us both a little bit of time to work out a system. In the end, they had Jacob doing a rough sand and then Andrew smoothing it over, while I soaked the handles in vinegar and then scrubbed them with a scouring pad. Both systems seemed to work pretty well.

Andrew and Jacob with the power sanders

The boys didn't get all the sanding quite done today, although they did get a lot done. Andrew was very glad to have Jacob over because he wasn't sure how he would have gotten this far without him, as I refused to sand in my pregnant-state. Alas, Jacob had to go help out at the Stadium of Fire, so Andrew and I gave up on sanding (for now) and moved on to the varnish.

The drawers were all done so we stained those today. We hope that they end up matching the baby's crib...I'm not sure if they really will, but it doesn't matter because they look a lot better than they used to.

Nancy paintingYes, I'm wearing a Canada t-shirt

Andrew painting

I haven't done a lot of painting in my life, but apparently Andrew has done even less. The first thing he did was dip his brush in to the very bottom of the can, so it went almost all the way up the handle. He then gave me that brush and then broke out another brush for himself. I told him how to dip properly, and he did a lot better.

It took us very little time to put a coat of varnish on the drawers, and soon we found ourselves cleaning up.

I took the brushes inside to rinse them off. Little did I know, varnish acts very differently than paint does and it doesn't wash off in water. After running my brush under the water for a while I noticed that nothing was coming off of it, so I touched it.

Varnish is very, very sticky. I put the brush down, got some soap and scrubbed my hands together...now both my hands were sticky.

I tried to pull off my wedding ring. It wouldn't budge.

"Andrew," I hollered, "I think we have a problem!"

He came inside and I explained my dilemma to him. He had also gotten some varnish on one of his hands, and I warned him not to touch anything with it. It's very sticky.

He got the can and read how to clean it up. It said to use mineral spirits.

"What do we have to do," he asked, "Pray to the minerals to help us?"

We decided that that probably wasn't what the can meant, so we looked up mineral spirits on the internet. Actually, since Andrew was the only one with a varnish-free hand, he looked up mineral spirits on the internet.

"It says it is like turpentine," he said.

"Great," I said, trying to unstick my fingers from the sink, "Go and get some."

"Where?" Andrew asked.

"A hardware store!" I said.

Andrew wasn't quite sure that you could find mineral spirits at a hardware store. He was thinking that he might find them among wines and other spirits and he was not prepared to enter a liquor store, so instead of just heading to the hardware store, he phoned his mom (see, we're independent).

"Where can I get mineral spirits?" he asked.

Thinking about which store was closest to us, she answered, "Lowe's."

"Oh," he said, sheepishly, since I was totally right and he was way off, "Is there anything else we can use? Nancy's kind of stuck to the sink."

After, I'm sure, a good laugh, Karen suggested nail polish remover, but since we didn't have any of that, Andrew headed off to Lowe's and was back with the mineral spirits within 10 minutes.

That stuff works wonders! Just the tiniest drop of it took all the varnish off our hands, and then soap and water took off the mineral spirits. It was a great feeling to be free from the sink, and not have my fingers fused together any longer.

After(ish)

Now that we actually know what we're doing, both with painting and sanding, I'm sure the rest of our project will go a lot smoother. We will be sure to continue to use Jacob's whines and the mineral spirits, as they certainly were helpful today!

Exploding babies, continued

Here's audio proof of my fear. Bill Cosby rocks.

Exploding babies, Lysol wipes, and boogity-woogity

Andrew was excited for our prenatal class today--he was sure that we had finished all the yucky parts and were just headed toward administrative issues, such as billing and choosing a pediatrician. Well, we did cover billing and we did talk about pediatricians, but we also covered post-birth mother and baby care.

Andrew did not take this well. He wasn't really interested in hearing about anything gooey today.

I was impressed with him though because even though he was squeezing my hand a little too tight and was squirming in his seat again, he still had the courage to ask questions.

First he asked about the posters showing what a "normal baby" looks like shortly after birth. You know: the swelling, the bruising, the vernix, the milia, etc. He wanted to know, "When the baby stops looking like that?"

Oddly enough, all the other fathers in the room kind of rallied around him, "Here, here! When does that stop--when can I touch the baby without shuddering?" They were all kind of grossed out by all the little quirks a baby can have after coming out.

Andrew's second question centered around the umbilical cord. He was concerned that, after they nurses take off the clip, the umbilical cord would unravel and so asked, "So, like, the baby won't explode or anything, will it?"

After quite a bit of laughter, the nurse responded that, although the baby certainly won't explode, it may ooze a little and then the cord will fall off in a couple of weeks.

Exploding babies? Really.

His third question was really quite good, although had he read our pregnancy books he would have known the answer (he can't stand to read the pregnancy books though because it makes his feet hurt). We were talking about jaundice and how to tell if your baby has jaundice, when to worry about it, and what the doctors do to fix it.

Since the doctors just use a UV lamp, Andrew wondered if you could just lay the baby in the sun if you start to notice any yellowing of the skin. The answer is yes, but it doesn't work as fast as the UV lamp, so if it's really bad you'll still need to go into the hospital.

As I said, the other fathers-to-be were asking questions just as quirky as Andrew's--many of which merited laughter from the women in the room and strange looks from their wives.

One father asked if baby wipes were like Lysol wipes, another how long it would be before his wife could get out of bed at all, and another if he could just buy his wife adult diapers.

So much to learn, so little time to do it in. But let's all remember, there are no stupid questions--except, perhaps, whether or not the baby can explode through their belly button.

Fathers seem to have just a little less instinctual knowledge when it comes to parenting. However, the nurse did caution the mothers not to give too much advice on how to care for the baby--otherwise we'd end up doing all the diapering, feeding, washing, dressing, playing, etc. all by ourselves.

Apparently babies adapt to the way "mothers mother" and the way "fathers father," which means that the baby doesn't care if its diaper is on just so, if its outfit mismatches, or if its hair goes uncombed...so mother shouldn't either.

That means that our brand new baby may very well enjoy Andrew "boogity-woogity"-ing right in her face when she's brand new, although I really, really doubt that...

Please note: Andrew is actually very gentle with brand new babies. I don't think any boogity-woogity-ing will happen for at least a few months.

The Bargain, bargain, bargain store

Andrew and I spent quite a while this week working on the baby's room. It is looking a lot better--not only can you walk in the room, you can walk in the room and lie down on the floor. I know it is hard to believe, but we have cleared all the junk away and somehow fit it into our storage closet.

We recently went to Target with a gift card from Grandma Sharon and Grandpa Frank--they sent it all the way from Germany. Okay, so it was mailed from wherever Target headquarters are to us, but they ordered it all the way from Germany--and we got a few more baby necessities.

Using their gift card, as well as our credit card points, we purchased a stroller/car seat combo, a crib mattress, and a few unmentionables (like a breast pump).


We're now feeling almost ready to have the baby. We can bring the baby home, we can feed it (alright--Andrew can help me with the feedings now), and we can give it a place to sleep. Granted, it will spend the first few months in the bassinet, but that's okay because we got a steal of a deal on the crib mattress!

We went to DI first to check out the mattresses there because my friend Bonnie told me they had new mattresses for sale pretty cheap ($35 for foam, 45 for springs). We went and looked at them, but I wanted to look at other places as well, just to compare. At Target, there was this awesome spring mattress for only $34.

We decided on that one, since the one next to it was over $70! (Who knew babies were so expensive?!!)

When we went up to pay at the register, the mattress rang up to be nearly $50! Now, there were only 2 mattresses on display--only two mattresses to choose from. There were also only two price tags. We told the cashier that the mattress only cost $35.

He didn't even argue. He just took our word for it. He charged us $34.99 plus tax, even though the UPC rang up a different price. He didn't go check the price or a catalogue, or have us go back and double check ourselves. He just gave us a discount.

A little reminder to me that we really do live in a barter society--it's just that very few people ever do it because, let me assure you, if you tried to barter down the price of apples at your regular grocery store, people would look at you like you were crazy. It is perfectly legal to barter, just not socially acceptable.

Furthermore, no one knows how to barter here. Had we been nearly anywhere else in the world it would have been like this:

"I'll give you $35 for this mattress."

"The sign says $50"

I would give the vendor a disgusted, shocked look.

"Fine," they would sigh in return, "$48."

"No, this isn't worth $48...Maybe, maybe $38...but the workmanship is a little shoddy."

"You insult me! You insult my family!" two second pause, "$45!"

"No...I don't think so..." at this point I would walk away to another mattress vendor, just next door to the current one.

"Fine, lady! $40! Final offer!" he would call after me.

At this point I would figure that I was saving about 10 bucks so would go back and purchase the mattress.

As I walk away with my new find, we would both think to ourselves, "Ha! I totally ripped them off!"

But that would never happen here because Americans seem to be perfectly content being overcharged for everything.

Oh, and, by the way, we weren't trying to barter with the poor kid. The price tag really did read only $35, but...it could have been for a different, cheap-o mattress. We will never know though because the cashier didn't go and check for us. Oh, well.

Motherhood jitters

Last night my friend, Valerie, called.

"Hi, Nancy," she said timidly, and sounding slightly embarrassed, "I know that I'm your visiting teacher...and your home teacher...so I'm supposed to be the one serving you...and I know that you're 37 weeks pregnant...but..."

She took a deep breath and let it out all at once, "Would you mind babysitting for me?"

I, of course, accepted. Her baby is so adorable and also very well behaved.

She brought him over this morning, still acting very nervous.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" she asked, "You're not going to go into labor or anything while we're out?"

"I'll be fine," I assured her.

"Okay, well...if he gets gassy, he likes to be held this way," and then she demonstrated the classic football hold, "And he really likes to be held like this," she continued, making sure I was listening with bated breath.

It seemed to her that I was, so she continued, "He also likes to practice standing...I wish he wouldn't yet."

"Do you have our cell phone number? Our new one?"

"Did I pack diapers? Yes, they're here..."

"If you need anything just call..."

"Are you sure you'll be alright?"

After assuring her that I would be fine, she confessed what I had already figured out, "This is just the first time I've left him with someone who wasn't a family member. I'm a little nervous."

I figured as much. And her baby (whose name is Sawyer, which I happen to think is cute now...I didn't think it was all too cute when she first told me about it) was perfectly charming.

Andrew, of course, scared him out of his wits by "boogity-woogity"-ing right in his face within seconds of Valerie's prolonged departure. I taught Andrew that little babies like to be talked to with high-pitched voices and they like gentle games. Tongue sticking out is funny. Boogity-woogity is not.

Andrew is so used to our neighbors twins (11 months) that it took him awhile to get the hang of playing with a smaller baby. After he felt he had gotten the hang of it, he asked if he cold hold Sawyer. I gave him the baby and Andrew, in turn, gravely offended him by coddling him like a newborn. After screwing up his face and holding his breath for a few seconds, Sawyer let out a tremendous scream and was hurriedly placed back into my arms.

I got him to settle down again, and then it was time for Andrew to head to work.

I was wondering how Valerie was getting along--it had, after all, been about 45 minutes since she left and I was sure she was missing her baby. Almost as if on cue, the phone rang.

"Hi, Nancy?"

"Yes, Val...?"

"How are things? Is he okay? Did he cry? Does he miss me?"

"Things are fine. Sawyer's fine. He cried because Andrew made strange faces at him, but he's just fine now. I'm sure he misses you terribly."

"Okay, good!" sighed Valerie.

"Valerie," I said, "Try to have a good time."

"I will," she said.

Ahhh...this is to be me in just a few short months. Except, since it will be mid November when our baby is four months old, I really doubt that I will go boating on Utah Lake--a little too cold for that. But I'm sure that I will be just as nervous to leave my baby. Valerie, I know, though is a perfectly capable babysitter and, as she pointed out, already owes me a free babysit! Sweeet!

Things with Sawyer really did go well, except for one thing...I have this huge bump in the way of all the cuddling he wanted to do.

Kim's twins and my sister's twins really don't care about the huge bump. They are more interested in getting into mischief than in snuggling in for that nice cozy mama-warmth. Sawyer, on the other hand, is only 4 months old and is still a very cuddlesome baby. It was fun to hold such a baby again, but it was much, much more awkward than holding a rambunctious 1 year old--as counterintuitive as that may seem.

That is why, I guess, babies typically have to be at least 10 months apart...so that you don't have a huge bump and a little cuddly baby at the same time. The bump just gets in the way.

I can't cuddle my husband. I can't cuddle babies. And, at times, have been known to turn around and bump into things with my belly.

Soon it will be out of the way, soon.