Oddly enough, I think the most contentious post I've ever written was on how to pronounce sauna.
Because I say SOWna, and Nick says SAWna and he makes fun of me every time we talk about a sauna, which is more often than one might think, although I have no idea why, since I haven't been in one in a few years, though I love them. (Also, incidentally, my pronunciation is totally right.)
Nick prefers a steam bath, but I think they're kind of icky. You could just bring some eucalyptus and sit naked at a DC bus stop in July and get the similar effect. I like the dry heat. Of a SOWna.
The trigger for this is that on Tuesday I went to IKEA with India to buy her a crib. A Sniglar, to be precise. Nick put it together at 5 am on Wednesday while I nursed and we spoke Snigglish.
You know. The Sniglar isn't so biglar. Except craplar, now it's stuck in the doorglar.
Ohh, sleep deprivation makes everything hilarglar.
Also, saunas are originally Finnish and IKEA is Swedish and my ancestors are Norwegian. Not the same, but Nordic countries, all. Glar.
So the Sniglar.
Jordan has not taken to the Big Boy Bed. You know how he snuck off to eat pie and watch Rachel Maddow in the middle of the night. And then he absolutely destroyed his room a couple times.
He really likes the bed in small doses, but then he wants the safety of his crib. He's struggling with the sibling thing anyway, so I don't really want to take it away from him.
And India has been in this travel crib bassinet, but as she sleeps she scoots herself sideways and winds up with her head all mashed against the side. So I looked at options on the IKEA site and figured for $70 it was worth it.
We determined that it would fit in Nick's car, and at 43 pounds I could lift it, and since I wanted it nownownow I went by myself.
I felt proud once I'd accomplished it, because one, I found the outing rather daunting. The beltway - even though it turns out to only be one road - stresses me the hell out. And I'm like a kid driving Nick's Nick-sized car, peering up over the dashboard. Aaaaand, dauntingest of all, I had to shop for something large with a baby in tow.
I wore her in a Bjorn, and a very nice man helped me get the large, unwieldy package of Sniglar down from the upper shelf of Row 20, Bin 15 and onto my gigantor cart thingy.
Now, it turns out that 43 pounds of large crib box is very different from 43 pounds of dumbbell. Who knew? By the time I got the thing in the car India was screaming and I was sweating profusely and the only way I could calm us both down was to blast both the air conditioning and 80s music.
Which is how I discovered that India has my taste in music: Corey Hart quieted her right down.
'Cause no one can take away your right to fight and to never surrendglar.