What’s a diary when you don’t write it daily?
(A question I ask myself.)
My personal answer…well, maybe not daily, but at least regularly.

Do I want to write in my diary?
Yes, yes I do.

Why don’t you write in your diary?
Well…erm…reasons!

What reasons?
Erm…busy busy, you know things…

What keeps you busy? Which things do you mention here specifically?
*sputter*
Well, work things

Ok, I’m trying to help here. Could you be more specific about work things?
*slump*
Well, actually my assignments, the work I do for my clients every day, and the conferences I organize, and the trainings I follow to get better in my work…

Right, so you have a busy day, every day, every hour, every minute?
Maybe not every minute, maybe not every hour of every day. Yet there is also my family, I want to be there for my wife and my daughter.

Then what would help you to actually write in your diary, is it important enough for you to find time in your busy busy life?
I guess I need to find commitment to do it, and intrinsic value to writing in a diary.

Good, let’s look at the value of a diary. What would it bring you?
I think a diary would bring me a number of things
– It’s an outlet for frustrations, ideas, a way to let go
– Since it is a public diary it might invoke response from people that could give me inspiration
– It might be something I can show to my daughter once she gets to an age that she can appreciate it

Alright, so there IS value, is it enough to give you a reason to commit to it?
Commitment is a strong word that I do not take for granted. But there is a will. I think at this moment I do feel that it is something I could try to do on a more regular basis.

We’ll see…

Echo…cho…o

Today we’re going to see you. Maybe not for the first time. At least live.
Our ultrasound appointment is at 11 and of course we want to be on time. The alarm is set for 8:45, early for a day on which I have the morning off, yet late since we waited for this day to come.

It was 8:30 when woke. Your mom was still asleep, making soft noises that made me suspect that she was having a bad dream. I decided to softly wake her by stroking her hair.

I startled her, and she indeed had been dreaming. In fact, she was dreaming about us. And I had eaten all the icing! Well, at least in her dream I had. We had cinnamon rolls and how could they be eaten without icing?

I need to find more dream icing!

 

So, besides working on our new bathroom we keep up the search for what we need for the coming baby. We have lots of time, but we do need to prepare. Besides the baby’s room need to be worked on too and for that we need to find out what furniture we are going to put there.

Baby furniture can be immensely expensive, so we are happy with all the help we were offered. My parents gave me my old crib. A piece of furniture that both my sister and my brother have used for their children.

We did decide that the crib is not practical. The beautiful fabric on it is fixed and hard to clean and we eventually need a bed.
So my parents also gave me my old bed. Build by my dad. I just need to fix it up.

Yet we found out something while working on the new bathroom…

The electricity is obviously more than 60 years old, and not… The wires have a kind of canvas wrapping and they are pulled through metal pipes. At certain points this is intermixed with newer PVC pipes and electricity wires that resemble the more modern wiring you can buy in the DIY store.

What I had found exposed at outlets were the PVC pipes and modern wiring. So I was unpleasantly surprised when we opened the ceiling in the room that we were going to turn into a bathroom.

We’re going to have to open up the ceiling of the blue room, which is going to be the baby room. And the purple and orange room, that are going to be the other bedrooms upstairs.

More work…I wonder if we are ever going to finish this before our baby is born.

Valentine’s day 2017

As we return home to our hotel-room on a stormy Texas evening the artificial light illuminate the hallway more than the cloud obstructed sun does. The mood is light, as light as it can be with the memory of Ken’s funeral still lingering.
Losing a dad is hard, yet there is the anticipation of tonight’s pregnancy test. As usual life throws many balls at the same time and they can have two opposing colors.

I press the elevator button, there is only one. The only way is up. The elevator door shudders open, yearning for some oil, and I step towards the granite covered elevator floor when suddenly a cowboy-boot moves in the opposite direction.

“Pardon me ma’am”, a fully clad cowboy tips his hat, a single rose in his hand.
As he clinks into the hallway we both murmur a pleasant good evening and I stare at his attire as I hold my breath.
His denim clothes totally match his tall boots and hat and I contain my mirth as my eyes linger on his spurs.

Slowly the elevator doors shudder closed and my laughter explodes into the tiny space.
I know we are in Texas, I know this encounter should not surprise me, but still it was so hilarious to see it. People surprise me, almost every day. This guy chose such a different lifestyle. The contrast between me and him could not be bigger.

I know it is not right to laugh, but it just seemed funny, and I would have loved to talk to this man. About his life’s choices. His lack of horse. His love. And that makes the world a little more right.

We arrive at the room and go inside. A smirk still on my face. On to a long evening waiting till the moment Mel is going to do the test.

To kill the time we dig into the salads we bought at the supermarket. A good choice, light enough to offset the heavy meals of the last few days. Filling enough to satisfy us, at least for now.

We’ve been binge-watching Star Trek Voyager in the past few weeks. Finally we reached the last season and we watch a few while time ticks away. Time-zones can me messy and where Mel would have taken the test in the morning at home, here she wants to wait till about the same time. Which is close to midnight.

Finally…she disappears into the bathroom.

The last two times were a miss, so we stay realistic. The signs are good and Mel shows me the stick as she emerges from the bathroom. Nothing on the little window yet.
The baseline is clear, but I imagine that is just a line that shows the medium inside is actually wet. But then slowly a line, very faint…is that it?
We wait a little longer.

Yes, there is a line, very faint, in the pregnancy window.

We’re pregnant!