My job as a Communications Coordinator at the University of Saskatchewan officially comes to an end in two weeks. But my last day at work will be this Wednesday.
Wow! A new baby, a new job. Things are certainly getting a big shakeup this year.
I’m going to miss lots of things about working at the U of S – mostly the great colleagues I met in my department. They’re a great gang.
But I’m also excited about the move to a new job in a new company.
The company is a Saskatoon-based corporate communications and marketing firm called Creative Fire. And everyone I tell about the move says something positive about this company. They have a great reputation.
I hadn’t planned on making this move – it was certainly not something I’d decided to squeeze in between my December schedule of house renovations and Christmas shopping. But the opportunity came along thanks to a good friend’s introduction.
Meeting with the folks at Creative Fire was a blast. The office exudes energy and verve. I’m pretty pumped about getting started.
No, this change wasn’t in J’s and mine grand plan, but as the old line goes:
The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men
Gang aft agley.
Happy New Year!
I was absorbed in offline seasonal activities for much of the past few weeks – as I hope you were too. But additionally I’ve spent much of 2010 in bed suffering from a cold with greater-than-average resiliency. And although I don’t usually put much faith in cold medicine, today I’ve finally given in and popped some Tylenol Sinus. I feel better. I can function, at least.
When I’m sick, I’m the sort of sufferer who basically wants the world to go away while I curl up on the couch napping, catching the occasional cartoon rerun. This approach has served me well most of my life – even through six years of marriage. This time, however, with a very pregnant working wife, it wasn’t so cool. Not that J complained much, just that she has her hands full with everything else and can’t pick up any of my slack. Which got me to thinking about how I can possibly handle being sick and having a kid to take care of. And what if the kid was sick at the same time too?
You’ll all agree that this scenario simply cannot work and therefore you’ll support the course of action upon which I’ve decided: I will simply not to get sick again for about 10 years. I’ll need lots of vitamin C and hand sanitizer.
My tongue is only partially in my cheek. It is beginning to hit home that I cannot afford to run my life in the manner to which I’ve become very comfortable. That is to say that in the past I could easily afford risking a cold or a broken ankle or whatever, because it didn’t really affect anyone’s life if I were bedridden – other than me. Even being married didn’t change that very much – sorry J, but you can look out for yourself if I’m ill, our kid isn’t going to be able to for a long while.
And, sure, J will be there to help out (lots), but things are going to change.
But in other baby-related news…
We had 25 voters participate in our baby-naming poll. The votes were very close, with no clear winner. And since we’ve found out that we are having a boy, we’ve gone back and reconsidered our name ideas. We are still happy with them, but we are also adding two new names for consideration. So if you’d like to have your say on the new names, visit the new poll.
Many of you will be aware of a greater naming challenge: the Last Name. As many of you know, J and I both kept our original last names when we married. We have been very happy with that decision, but this doesn’t give us any easy answers for what our children’s last names should be. But more on that later.
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image courtesy of flickr’s creative commons and destinysagent
So if you haven’t figured this out from the blog post title, we are expecting a boy!
J at the ultrasound
The latest in 3D Ultrasonic Technology confirms the presence of very tiny testicles. That’s the perfect setup for a punchline about genetics and my masculinity. So let’s just move past it shall we?
A boy – but don’t tell Janelle’s father. Apparently he doesn’t want to know until it he(!) is born. I have know idea how we’ll be able to keep this information away from him. But I suppose we’ll try.
The 3D Ultrasound was pretty fun, actually. The room is very comfortable, with big leather chairs and such. Not clinical at all. Ultrasounds are not new, but it still seems like a mind-blowing technology: “Let’s take a look at the living thing in your stomach.” Wow! There it is – let’s count the toes!
Add into this that we had four of our family members watching this experience live on the Internet. Plus I was snapping pics (like this one of J) on her iPhone, texting my sister, and posting to twitter at the same time. Oh, and drinking a Tim’s coffee.
We live in very luxurious times. How can you raise kids to appreciate this luxury and not have them take it for granted?
So, yes, a boy!
We think.
The technician was very positive and spent a great degree of time checking various angles in order to satisfy herself. So I’m confident.
And yet: this wouldn’t be the first time that the ultrasound was wrong (far from it). And that’s okay. J loves surprises. And I’m perfectly happy for either a boy or a girl.
But it’ll very likely be a boy.
So now we are refining and focusing the list of possible names (I’ll be discussing the issues with the Last Name in a later post). J is trying “Henry” on for size.
And to me it all seems that much more real. The resolution on the future seems higher and much more viewable. And with the increase in resolution so too an increase in the enormity of the responsibility.
Oh geeze.
I think J is feeling something similar. Now she’s able to think about the idea of a son. She’s going to have a mother-son relationship. I’m going to have a father-son relationship. That is a little unnerving.
I’m suddenly reminded of when I was learning how to swim: hanging on to the side of the pool and putting my foot into the water – deeper and deeper – and nothing beyond.
I guess it’s sink or swim time buddy.
J and I have a propensity to bite off more than we can chew. I’m speaking specifically about overly-optimistic and intricately entwined project time-lines. Each step in our projects must begin a specific time regardless of the status of the previous step – and yet the previous step must be completed before the next step can be complete. It’s a house of cards, really.
J would like to think this is related to my tendency to wait until the last minute to complete things (but, pray tell, what else is a deadline for?). But I prefer to blame my child-like naïveté (what’s a mitre saw?) regarding hammer-and-saw-type projects. Once I do it once, I tend to do it much better the second time.
Mitre Saw?
This particular project/disaster spins outward from an essentially simple project: the installation of hardwoods in the baby’s room, our bedroom, a hallway, and a few stairs. We’re not even installing this hardwood – we are paying people to do it for us.
But it is not so simple, of course, since we are living in this space at the moment. So there is furniture – beds, bookcases – that need to be moved into the barely-big-enough kitchen and living room (already stacked with boxes of to-be-installed bamboo flooring). There are carpets and underlay to be removed. Baseboards too. All of this comes with nails and staples galore that must also be pried out of their wooden resting places. Walls to be painted. Baseboards to be purchased, transported, painted, cut, installed. All of this and more: our previously installed custom closets need to be removed and subsequently reinstalled, for instance.
“Renos” is both a curse-word and a Christmas tradition for J and I.
Before we moved into our first condo together – the first place we actually owned – we needed to do much the same. I spent countless hours pulling staples from the floor, ripping baseboards and casing from the walls, and generally gutting the place at a rushed pace to ensure that it was barren before the flooring guys came in to start making it better. All this was a few years ago in December, just days before J and I were bound to hop on a plane for Christmas in England.
The snow and the frigid cold and Christmas carols and the %*&@ing renos…yes, it must be the Holidays again.
Happy Christmas everyone!
You Would Never Survive the Winters in this Province – Maybe Smith
PS – the to-be-finished-today flooring already looks awesome. The baby’s room has been painted green and yellow. And J might have already purchased a crib this morning. So it is working out perfectly (just as I planned!).
(Image courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/biblicone and Flickr’s Creative Commons)
And when our baby stirs and struggles to be born it compels humility: what we began is now its own.
- Margaret Mead
You’ll be pleased to know that since my last posting, I have taken the fitness declaration to heart. Literally, I guess, since my heart has been working overtime. My muscles too didn’t realize what they were in for (Indeed, I’ve received several unfair labour petitions from the muscles’ shop steward. I’ve responded by increasing the tempo even further – take buttercup!). But while I may have a few sore muscles, I do feel better. Better rested. More energy. It is really amazing how quickly you can feel the impact of basic physical exercise.
The baby’s room is coming along nicely. The walls have been painted (mostly) and the new floors come next week. The house is a crazy mess right now – which is freaking the dog out – but hopefully it’ll be better by Christmastime.
