Make it Work

These last few weeks, I've been agonizing over whether to move. A few months ago, a colleague offered her rental apartment to us once she bought a house. Although we weren't planning on moving, the perks of her home (bigger place, cheaper rent) were enticing, and Dave and I considered it. We even went and looked at it. Although cute, there were some drawbacks (no dishwasher, coin operated washer/dryer in the basement, and a quirky closet sitch). A few weeks later we concluded that We Did Not Want to Move.

Then I started thinking about all the expenses that are coming down the pike, and in a panic, said "Um, well, maybe we should move". Meanwhile, Dave has been totally consumed with National Boards teaching stuff, and had no spare brain power/time/will to discuss moving until he completed his portfolio. We tabled all conversation until he was done, which was this weekend (!). In the meantime, I made Excel spreadsheets of every possible rental permutation (stay in our condo/move to Stefani's/move to another place). I made a weighted pro and con list (which I learned about on LifeHacker.com...nerdy cool), had multiple internal conversations, and I discussed the predicament with some of my top advisors.

Although Stefani's place had potential, she hasn't even bought a home yet. Closing on a house could take months, and do I really want to move while 7 or 8 months pregnant? No. I also thought maybe we could find a little house. It would be bigger and cheaper, have all of our beloved modern amenities, and be in a good neighborhood. After spending some quality time on Craigslist, I realize that there are some cheaper and bigger places, but they don't have a view, or a short hop to the bus, or a patio, or a stackable washer and dryer. Who knew how precious a household appliance could be? We're totally spoiled, and it's hard to imagine regressing to coin operated laundry. Like, ew.

But the biggest thing I realize is, deep down, I Don't Want to Move. Not this year. We've both lived in four rentals in four years, plus we plan on moving back east next summer. Our condo is small, but so is a baby. We have an office which we'll turn into a nursery. So what if it doesn't have a proper door or a window? I've been watching Project Runway lately, and in the words of Tim Gunn, we're gonna Make it Work.

When I told Dave the verdict, he said "Okay". And that was that. I didn't even have to show him my spreadsheets.

Yes! We're on board.

Curious about the inner workings of how I create a wedding invitation? Since I never posted what I made for Ashley and Jeff, enjoy this little snapshot of the design process, and the crowning jewel, their invitations!

They were good clients. They picked out a color palette, (peacock blue and chartreuse) and wanted to embrace the theme of subways and New York City (Jeff loves mass transit, and Ashley thinks it has its merits), and they had a good concept of what they liked and didn't like. Originally inspired by the mosaics found in MTA subway stations, I developed this style board and sent to them for review.

Then I drafted up some rough sketches.

Although the mosaic theme didn't make it through the first round of edits, the subway idea stuck. I asked them to take reference photos so I had the right scale, angle, and sign fonts to work from.


From there, I developed this sketch for the invitation, and Ashley and Jeff liked it:

After a few rounds of edits I created these pieces, the invitation:

and the RSVP cards (front):

and back:

Adventures in finding babysitting

Editors note: I don't mean to hi-jack this blog with all things baby-related, but bear with me, 'cause that's what's on my mind these days.

It seems crazy that we have to look for child care already. And we've been looking for a few months. I have no idea what the market is for infant child care in other towns and cities but in Seattle, there are approximately four open spots for 3,675 babies. The concept of supply and demand are completely out of whack. Which means one thing: wait lists! Or maybe it means two things: nannies! Which we'll need, in case the wait lists don't work out.

First we had to register with an organization, a veritable Day Care Gate Keeper, to access listings of credible providers. Oddly, a simple Google search comes up with a big ol' ball of tumbleweed. I found a few places in my zip code, called them all, left earnest messages and spoke really clearly, and heard back from one. Dave and I went to visit. The good news was, it was close to our home and affordable. The bad news was it had cobwebs and seemed dirty. Nah.

I expanded my search. So what if I need to make a bus transfer with Junior's stuff in tow?

The second place I checked out was run by Eddie, a Springer Spaniel of a man according to his enthuisasm over the phone. (This should've been my first red flag; as illustrated above, most providers don't even answer their phones, let alone jump for joy at the prospect of a new charge). We agreed to meet at his day care on President's Day. He said "Just look for the bright blue house with orange trim. You can't miss it!". (This shouldn't been my second red flag, but I'm starting to feel pressure and and therefore trying to be open minded.)

I pulled up and let out a groan at the site of his electric blue house with a sagging front porch and satellite dish. But I remembered my friend Rachel's advise, to see AS MANY day cares as possible, because they are each unique. I pulled myself out of the car and walked up the crusty porch. A quick look in the windows and I saw a mattress on the floor and a big ass box of Cheerios, but no children to speak of. I knocked on the door and heard a big dog lumber towards the door, which I took as my cue to run away.

I'm not scared of dogs, but I do trust my intution. And my intuition said "This place is a dump. Who are you kidding?"

Today I checked out a nice place at a Methodist church. I had to pay $35 to get on the waitlist, but it seemed worth it. It was clean, they had a cool outdoor space, a music program, full meal plan, and it was in a good neighborhood. Even though it's at a church, they don't push a religious agenda, and they celebrate diversity by making sure there are black and brown dolls, and books and music that teach about other cultures.

On the bright side, my mother in law will watch the baby one day a week (awesome!) and I have some flexibility with my work schedule. I guess we'll just hope for the best and play PowerBall in the meantime. That way, we can be stay at home 'ballers.

24 carrot

Today I got inspired to document my pregnancy a little better. My half-hearted attempts to keep a journal have been unsuccessful to date. As a testament to the era, the best documentation I have is in my emails and blog posts. So! For those Looky Lous who want a belly shot: here's me at 21 weeks (last weekend):

I wasn't super happy with our photo shoot but Dave has been a very supportive husband/photographer. My favorites are when he tells me to "Modify!" before every Crossfit class and runs me a lukewarm bath so I don't boil little Kitzman in the womb. One thing he has yet to learn is to avoid taking food from a pregnant lady. I've been trying to get him to try these chocolate chip-stout cookies that I bought for $.99, and he's all like "No thanks, none for me." So I asked him to get me one, and as soon as I sit down he has the audacity to ask me if he could have a bite. A bite of a cookie that consists of four bites!? I think I actually said "Get your own f--kin cookie". I'm really going to have to curb my language when the baby arrives.

Each week I get an email update that tells me how big the baby is relative to produce. It started out as a poppy seed, then a sesame seed, then a plum, mango and so on. This week it's the length of a carrot (almost one foot long). I don't know how many other veggie or fruits are longer than a carrot- an ear of corn, sure. But then, what- melons? Cabbage?

So one really cool thing about being pregnant is being outfitted by my mom and mother-in-law! My mom is NOT a shopper. My sister and I had to beg her to bring us to the mall when we were kids. It was her idea of personal hell. TJ Maxx was her jam, and we only went there out of dire clothing necessity. Something about having a pregnant daughter must've sparked a dormant desire to shop, because my mom has been sending me boxes of maternity clothes like it's her job. It's been awesome because I haven't had the time/inclination/money to go shopping. And Dave's mom brought me a cute dress from Target that I've been rockin' at least once a week.

Oh that's another cool thing- you can have 5 outfits in rotation and no one judges.

Walking on sunshine

Is it weird that I don't want to do anything? I guess "anything" is a misnomer, but I have a few things on my to-do list and topping that list is "Work". I definitely don't feel like going to the office on a beautiful Saturday. I would clean our house, or cook or make a collage but boarding a bus and going downtown does not appeal to me.

This morning I went to pre-natal yoga. I've had a rocky relationship with yoga over the past ten years. For example, I was into it while atending a pre-college program at Bennington (coincidentally, that's when I decided to become a vegetarian and learn to sew. Neither goals lasted the year). A few years ago I stated that "Yoga isn't for me. I want a workout that makes me sweat".

Fast forward to 2010: My pregnant friend Dara piqued my interest in pre-natal yoga, partially because she said at the beginning of each class, everyone says their name and how far along they are, and I'm curious about other pregnant ladies/bodies. I'm amazed by women who are past 35 weeks because they are generally so big! Am I going to be that big?! How can it be?!

It took a lot of momentum to get to the community center for my first class. I seemed to come up with excuses really easily (such as I already pay for, and attend, two gyms). But I finally went a month and a half ago and the class was so relaxing and mellow, on my way home I felt like I was walking on sunshine. Although some yoga practices are vigorous workouts, this class focuses on stretches for pregnancy and labor. We also focus on breathing, being in the moment and losing judgement, which is really therapeutic for my hyperactive East Coast mind.

It may be a little crunchy granola, but I am beginning to really look forward to my Saturday pre-natal yoga class. As a side-note, the weather in Seattle has been ridiculously nice. It's been spring-like for a month now. The cherry blossoms are all blooming, adding brushes of pink to the cityscape. It's a nice backdrop to my intense work deadlines. So, about going in to the office...

By the way, this is Chez Moni's 100th post! And I'll post pics of my belly soon.