Figgy gets more real to me every day. And not just because I'm still puking (wasn't this supposed to go away by now?). On Wednesday, before Pizza Club, my lovely friend Lynn brought over a bunch of baby stuffy for us.
Including a crib.
One that looks very much like this:
And now it's in our spare room, which now that it has a crib in it, I guess is officially the nursery. It's so bizarre. We've been accumulating stuff (mostly from Lynn) for a while now, a car seat here, an activity mat there, but a) most of those things are in the garage, and b) none of them are quite as big as this crib. It's huge. Lynn's husband, Marty, actually had to take it apart just to fit it through our hallway. It's really kind of freaking me out. It all goes to my friend Allison (mom to Baby Maggie)'s point that babies take 9 months to get here for a reason: you need that long to wrap your head around the fact that everything is about to change.
On the up side, we had a mini preview of how the cats may react to Figgy's arrival. Lynn brought her 2 very well-behaved boys (Jack, age 4 and Ryan, 18 months) with her to drop off the crib. They were both very excited to see Deano, Doyle & Nigella. But's let's just say that Doyle was not so glad to see them. He took one look at those kids and ran into the bedroom, where he cowered around the side of our bed. But Deano was so friendly and gentle! He rubbed against them, flopped for them so they could pet his stomach and even played with toys with them. I was so impressed with him. Doyle's reaction was a bit surprising, as he is normally super friendly and in your face about how happy he is so see you (when our insurance agent came in to show us all our paperwork, he jumped in her lap and wouldn't leave her alone). But I guess kids are different.
On Saturday, I'll be 18 weeks along. Only 2 more weeks and I'll be 20 weeks, which is the official half-way point through the pregnancy (of course, if you want to get into semantics, the first two weeks are technically pre-conception, but blah, blah blah). I know there is so much ahead of me, but it's scary because I feel like the first half has just flown by. There is so much to do and get ready for, and it's a long time and not very much time at all at the same time.
Kendra had the ingenius idea of giving Figgy (if Figgy is a boy) the middle name "Newton," as a little in-joke. Is it terrible that we're actually considering it?