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Hammered and Screwed

Quick personality test: How does the following phrase make you feel?

Some assembly required.

A) Challenged. It's you versus the particleboard.
B) Aroused. You can't wait to whip out your tools.
C) Terrified. Keep the band-aids close.

Man, I'm worthless around tools. I couldn't be less of a handyman if I didn't have hands. I can change light bulbs, and you might be able to get me to spray a few weeds, but that's about the extent of my ability around the house. So when a ten-page booklet of instructions falls out of a box, I usually run for cover.

My dad on the other hand knows his way around a workbench. He's worked with wood his whole life. He even built some of our furniture when we were kids. So this apple not only fell far from the tree, but it rolled down a hill, into the street and got run over by a truck.

Needless to say, I got Pa's help when it came to assembling our baby furniture. We got it all. A crib, a dresser, a changing table (with drawers), a rocking chair and a gliding chair. And not a single thing came in one piece.

We whupped some tail on the gliding chair. It was just a few big pieces that went right together. Bang, bang, done. The rocking chair was another story. We got about two steps in when we realized a couple of the wood thingies were cracked. Then we discovered we didn't have enough of the screw doodads. I had to call Canada for help and the replacement parts weren't going to arrive for another week. One for two.

We got the dresser done but it completely wiped us out. Screwing, hammering, unscrewing, rescrewing…it was a beast. By the time we finished we were out of time and patience so we had to save the changing table for another day. We did do the crib just so the room at least looked like a baby could stay there. All in all, not good times, but at least nobody bled.

All this for someone who is currently drinking her own urine.

First Class

"If you don't know, you better ask somebody." We don't know much about babies so we decided to pay for somebody to ask. We signed up for a five-part class at the hospital where we will be delivering. Ten full hours of all-you-can-learn birthing info. Gentlemen, start your brains.

Our instructor was a very funny woman from South Africa. In addition to years of experience as a midwife, followed by additional training and more experience as a labor and delivery nurse, she had four kids of her own. But all I cared about was her accent. She said things like "umbiLAKal cord." She made "vitamins" rhyme with "SIT-uh-mins" and "zebra" sound like "Debra." It was great.

I did learn some stuff too. For one thing, I learned that I didn't even know where to go when Lorisa went into labor. I had been there before to visit our friends after their baby was born but I didn't know how to get there. After class we walked over to the entrance to the birthing center and I paid attention to where the front desk was. Deep exhale.

I might not know where this road is leading, but I least I now know where to park.


Disclaimer: Scott only uses his hands to type, thank you. Look for the tale to continue in about a week.