Actually, just one picture sums it up nicely:
See? Crumbs? Of Cake? Because my week was...(wait for it)...CRUMMY?
(Oh my God, I'm so sorry for that.)
So let's see. Where to begin?
Mom update? Check.
She's doing good. Really, really good. Like buying baby clothes on the Internet good.
She's meeting with a breast cancer counselor next week who will help with a prothesis and she's found a little store where they actually sell NICE bras for masectomy patients. (The women in my family, we enjoy our lacy underthings, which is why I have yet to buy an actual nursing or maternity bra and will probably still be wearing some cleavage-enhancing lacy thing when I go into labor.)
Baby furniture? Check.
We chose some very nice solid oak furniture, which happened to be the heaviest furniture in the entire store. And possibly on the east coast.
We live on the third floor, and we are never moving again.
We haven't attempted to assemble the crib yet, but we did inspect the two pieces that came assembled (a crazy concept, as we are only recently learning that you can buy furniture from places other than IKEA and there are no hex keys required).
And of course, the biggest, heaviest piece of all -- a dresser/changing-table combo unit thing -- has a crooked hinge and a funky-hanging door. We both stared at it for awhile and then decided that the best plan of action is prop the ironing board in front of it and walk away.
Sigh. There is no progress. There is only chaos.
While our new floors were being installed on Wednesday, I was barricaded in all that craziness, trying to work and write advice columns from a rocking chair in the far corner while my terrified pets fought over precious lap real estate.
Max eventually gave up and found comfort elsehwere.
Oh! Would you like to see our new floors? Yes, of course you'd like to see our new floors! Or maybe not, but YE SHALL INDULGE ME AND FEIGN INTEREST.
They are very much in need of mopping, but ta-da! Floors.
(I wish I could tell you that the whole mattress-and-boxspring-propped-on-the-floor thing is just a temporary, post-construction phenomenon, but alas, this is how we actually live.)
(The bed-being-made thing actually IS a temporary, one-time phenomenon, as I made it simply so I could take this picture.)
And here is the other side of the room, which I'm sure is just as thrilling for everybody.
The stairs are not quite done, however. Because we're idiots.
Do you see? Do you see what we did there? WE PAID FOR HARDWOOD FLOORS TO BE INSTALLED ON TOP OF SOMETHING THAT ALREADY HAD HARDWOOD FLOORS.
We assumed the stairs were plywood, just like the floor upstairs. But noooo, the stairs were solid wood, and only needed to be refinished. But by the time I emerged from my hole in the nursery to realize this, they'd already destroyed the original treads and installed several new ones.
Our contractor was very peeved at the workers and is coming back to finish the thresholds himself, because GODDAMN, YOU TELL PEOPLE THEY ALREADY HAVE WOOD FLOORS BEFORE YOU START SAWING THEM DOWN TO ITTY BITS AND SLAPPING UNNECESSARY WOOD DOWN.
(Heh. "Unnecessary wood." Heh.)
And now for the crummiest part of the week.
Ceiba had her yearly examination on Wednesday -- rabies and distemper vaccines, eyeball checkup, yadda yadda, etc.
Her eyes have completely healed, and she charmed the pants off everyone in the office.
I mentioned that she limps sometimes. It's something she's done for months -- she'll temporarily lift up her hind leg and hop around on three legs for a few minutes. Then she's fine. We assumed it was leg cramps or her just being a little drama queen.
Nope. A luxating patella. Or, a kneecap that does not stay where it should, namely, on the damn knee. This was confirmed by the vet while I was waiting for the refills on her heartworm pills and she started limping around. I shrieked for the vet to come see and he dashed over and popped her tiny kneecap back into place.
So! Ceiba needs knee surgery. Like a tiny little football player, or something.
Honestly, I spent all day yesterday reading every damn article on luxation of the patella that Google could dig up and am moping more over this than I did my mom's masectomy because I'm really, really warped sometimes.
The condition is really common and isn't hurting her right now, but it will get worse and lead to early arthritis or possibly a torn ligament -- or worse, thanks to the lovely new hardwood floors she has to jump onto. So we've decided to have the surgery sooner rather than later, while she's young and can recover quickly.
And I'm not even going to talk about what it costs, because it gives me hives.
(Goddamn pet insurance with the goddamn "no coverage for congenital conditions" clause and goddamn again for good goddamn measure.)
Well! This post has rambled on for long enough, methinks. Let's close with the World's Worst Belly Picture, because Jason left for work early and I forgot to have him take one.
34 weeks. Note the slight downwards shift and the loss of my nice shelf to balance my cake plate on.