shouting hallelujah
Also: progress.
Unexciting things I did on this, the last day before 38 weeks:
- prewashed the half of Pip’s cloth diapers that require hot washing (if you have to prewash diapers a zillion times, it would really help if manufacturers at least agreed on how to do it)
- sterilized pacifiers
- put away more awesome Pip wear and toys (Oh yes. There is visible floor now.)
Things I have not done:
- found a way to store all the blanket-type stuff currently piled on the floor
- read very much on what to do when the baby actually arrives
- napped, gone on a leisurely waddle with Bonnie, eaten a green vegetable in roughly a week
Blerg.
Pip, we’ve been working on your room, but mostly just the walls, because your uncle hasn’t finished your crib yet, and we have to get some sort of storage bins to handle all the great stuff people have been giving you. So while your walls are starting to look pretty grand, filled with gifts from the people we love, most of your room, a month out, looks like the last picture.
Sorry, love.
Featured:
- Harry, Ron & Hermione print by Nan Lawson
- nest card by Nikki McClure
- cheetah (?) sculpture by John’s little sister around age 5
- tree of life and owl prints by John’s grandpa George [one of the Joseph grandpas]
- owl screen print by some friend of my sister’s
- birch print by a local artist whose work we saw in Thirsty Mind the same month we found out we were expecting Pip [maybe J will remember the artist, but I don’t]
- Shire print bought for us by my college roommate Alicia
- on the magnet board/checker board from my Granny: a vintage postcard from my friend Colleen, a bit of beautiful wrapping paper I’ve had for years given me by Layne, a vintage postcard from my mom, and a Mary prayer card from my dad, who always snags “Catholic trading cards” for J
![[I feel like we’ve been pretty upfront about the name of the wee one (not so much out of fearlessness as our complete inability to keep secrets when we’re excited), but I know I’m still getting asked, so let me lay it all out.]
First, yes, really, Pip. At least, Pip and Pippin are what we plan to call him unless or until he protests otherwise. For the official birth certificate kind of deal, here’s what we’ve got:
Thomas. This was always a given, possibly since before we were married. J wanted to name a son after his brother.
Joseph. When J’s grandfather’s health started failing this summer, we took a look at the names George and Joseph. We ultimately went with Joseph, because it was also the middle name of my favorite grandfather, who passed away when I was in high school. Plus, Jesus’s earthly father is a pretty rad role model for husbands and fathers.
Peregrine. Admittedly, this kind of began as a joke. My first trimester I was such a wreck, and we kept joking about calling the baby Thomas Peregrine and Pip for short, and giving him stern in-utero talks about how he really ought to be nicer to his mother. At the same time, J was rereading The Two Towers to me before bed each night, which reminded us how Pippin is actually a pretty great character: a chronic screwup who laughs at himself and finds endless depths of courage in his little hobbit heart. In Tolkien, it’s Peregrin-no-E, but Peregrine with an E is slightly more common, and also the name of a falcon. It’s related to peregrination, a word that has all kinds of nice shades of meaning — wandering, pilgrimage, wayfarings — that fit with our idea of the Christian life.
We ultimately just reached a point where this felt like his name. It’s a little weird, but it’s his.
(P is for Pinecone)](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m7437tYitR1qz54p6o1_500.jpg)
[I feel like we’ve been pretty upfront about the name of the wee one (not so much out of fearlessness as our complete inability to keep secrets when we’re excited), but I know I’m still getting asked, so let me lay it all out.]
First, yes, really, Pip. At least, Pip and Pippin are what we plan to call him unless or until he protests otherwise. For the official birth certificate kind of deal, here’s what we’ve got:
- Thomas. This was always a given, possibly since before we were married. J wanted to name a son after his brother.
- Joseph. When J’s grandfather’s health started failing this summer, we took a look at the names George and Joseph. We ultimately went with Joseph, because it was also the middle name of my favorite grandfather, who passed away when I was in high school. Plus, Jesus’s earthly father is a pretty rad role model for husbands and fathers.
- Peregrine. Admittedly, this kind of began as a joke. My first trimester I was such a wreck, and we kept joking about calling the baby Thomas Peregrine and Pip for short, and giving him stern in-utero talks about how he really ought to be nicer to his mother. At the same time, J was rereading The Two Towers to me before bed each night, which reminded us how Pippin is actually a pretty great character: a chronic screwup who laughs at himself and finds endless depths of courage in his little hobbit heart. In Tolkien, it’s Peregrin-no-E, but Peregrine with an E is slightly more common, and also the name of a falcon. It’s related to peregrination, a word that has all kinds of nice shades of meaning — wandering, pilgrimage, wayfarings — that fit with our idea of the Christian life.
We ultimately just reached a point where this felt like his name. It’s a little weird, but it’s his.
I made these with a tremendous amount of no-sew seaming stuff, a fair sprinkling of profanity and not nearly as many measurements as I should have made. I had the help of my sister for the first, the help of Law and Order for the middle two, and J’s help last night when I was tired and creaky and ready to be done on the last one.
(fabric via; brown curtains were old Target refugees from our bedroom)
Foreground: fabric for curtains (the owls).
Background: the lamp I carried home from Hampshire College one summer, and which needs some sort of replacement or repair to the adjustable little light (any advice?)
Bonus: the hand-me-downs that don’t fit in drawers, the soon-to-be-former knobs, and other junk.
Not much to report on the Pippin nursery front. We got a crib preview a couple weeks ago from Thomas, who is also fixing up an heirloom rocking chair for us, and I have a couple DIY projects to tackle next week (new knobs for the “chester drawers” as a friend calls such, and no-sew curtains about which I am very apprehensive).
Currently, I have about two dozen framed and unframed prints and bits on the floor as I try to figure out who makes the final cut and a good wall arrangement for them.
I want to make progress as I have time and energy, but I’m also holding off on a lot, suspecting I’ll get some cool stuff at various showers this month.
SO MUCH TINY.
(Hand-me-downs for Pip from a sweet friend.)
Last weekend, we made an impromptu trip down to Tennessee for J’s grandpa’s memorial service.
It was not an easy trip, of course, by its nature and because we had less than three days to plan it, but I think it was a good one. We got to see some extended family we hadn’t seen in awhile and hear from so many in George’s community what a wonderful guy he was. Their friends kept the house packed with homemade food to feed a whole army, and we watched home videos while J’s mom, aunt and uncle shared stories.
Most of our time there was pretty solemn, but there were small bursts of joy that broke through, too. J’s grandma got to brag about her first great-grandbaby on the way, and I got to show off Pip’s ultrasound shots.
There was also a divying of some of George’s things among his descendents. J ended up with a bolo tie his artisan grandpa had made; I took a big, wool Pendleton shirt that will see my through my big, frumpy winter and which was too small for George’s strapping grandsons. Maybe best of all, we got these etchings, made by George, for the great grandson he’ll never meet, but who will grow up hearing stories about him.
(handmade plush red fox, Liam)
My brain has turned to Cheerios and all I want to do is look at sweet, unnecessary baby stuff on Etsy.
