My Inappropriate Nursery

Well, it took me 2 months, $100 in painting supplies, the majority of my sanity, and hours of back-breaking, feet-swelling, oxygen-denying labor, but I finished painting the boys' nursery this weekend.

I had thought long and hard about what kind of theme would best represents my unborn fetuses. Naturally, firefighters and horses were on the top of the list. Brian even suggested some sort of montage involving unicorns putting out fires, but as much as I'd love to paint my nursery in a tribute to some sort of 80's hair-band ridiculousness, it just didn't sit well.

Because I'll be damned if I'll raise a bunch of sissy, unicorn-loving pyromaniacs.

In the end, I went with monsters.
But not just any monsters...
The monsters from Where the Wild Things Are, which might possibly be my favorite all-time childrens' book.
I figure, why paint the nursery with some sort of cute, fru-fru infant design just so I have to paint over it by the time they turn 3? Why not paint something that will transition well from infancy and toddler-hood to childhood?
Plus, as a writer, I totally dig the idea of surrounding them with literature-inspired greatness from the get-go.

Because I will beat writing appreciation into them whether they like it or not.

So yeah.
I painted the nursery with monsters.
But in my defense, they're mostly friendly looking.
Take a look:








Okay, so that rooster-thing is a little scary looking.
And the yellow half-man half-bird thing kind of looks like a cross between a pedophile and a hippie.

But the overall look is generally benign, in my opinion.

What these pictures don't show, however, is the ridiculous amount of non-nursery designated furniture and miscellaneous crap that still lives in that room.

Blame my brother-in-law, who returned from Afghanistan in April, told us to hold on to the bedroom set and all of his stuff (which we've been storing for the past year), promptly moved to South Carolina, and HAS YET to pick any of it up.
And before you get all support the troops on me, allow me to argue that he was in Afghanistan on contract work making obscene amounts of money, so the use of our house as a storage unit is in no way justified by any "sacrifice" he made living in a secure air force base and making crazy bank.

Dear brother-in-law
We're SO, SO glad you're home safe and sound. But allow me to remind you that the birth of one or more children is generally not a flexible deadline that we can push back for your convenience. So if you don't come and get this furniture and all of your other crap OUT OF MY NURSERY I will start a shit-storm that will make Afghanistan look like a Palm Springs Resort. Do you hear me?!? I will take you down to China Town, family or not.

Love,
Your extremely pregnant and impatient sister-in-law

So the furniture has been a bit of an issue. Last I heard, he was coming to pick it up the first weekend in October. Unfortunately for Brian, I made it clear that I would tolerate the furniture for as long as I was painting, but if it was still there when I was finished, I was going to drop the hammer.
And as of last night, the nursery is done.

In other words, it's on like Donkey-Kong

So the nursery is painted.
It's a huge check off of my "To Do" list, which is great, because climbing a step ladder at almost 7.5 months pregnant was getting to be a little like playing a game Russian Roulette with gravity. But it also sucks, because the "To Do" list is 99.9% comprised of things I'm unable to do (and am therefore dependent on Brian to get done), and .1% pregnancy-friendly activities.
Like washing baby clothes (when I get around to buying them).
And feeling superior to the idiots on MTV's Teen Mom. (yes, "feel superior to Teen Mom cast" is actually on my To Do list, right in between "nap" and "second lunch")

So with the nursery finished, I'm kind of out of things to do, other than judge people on reality TV shows.

It's not the worst situation to be in, but it's certainly the most boring.

So now I'm left trying to fill the time between now and the inevitable delivery of the twins. I suppose repeat threatening phone calls to my brother-in-law could be fun, but what am I supposed to do with the other 20 hours of my day??
Well, yanno, other than work, which is truly overrated and I'm pretty sure gives me agita.

Any suggestions?