So... The bat phone rang on Saturday. Shelley was parking the car and couldn't grab it in time and has now convinced herself that this was the one and only contact we will ever get and because she didn't answer the phone in time we have lost out on our chance to be parents. Did I mention my wonderful spouse can be a *bit* of a drama queen?
This incident led to a conversation about how we each were handling (or not handling) this whole waiting thing. I don't know what it is, maybe I figure somewhere deep down that we can't both be losing it at the same time. Maybe the thought of actually getting the call freaks me out almost as much as not getting it. Maybe I'm dumping all my anxious, angsty energy into making stuff. But for some reason, I'm pretty content in the knowledge that this will happen when and how it's supposed to and there's not much I can do to control it one way or the other in the meantime. At least I am right now. Today.
Suffice it to say, that is NOT how Shelley is feeling about the whole thing. And I would hazard a guess that my weird zen-ness is probably irritating to her. It's not an easy thing to do, this letting go of control. I definitely have areas in my life where I am not good at it. At all. I do think pouring my anxiety about this, or anything frankly, into my artsy-craftsy-creativey pursuits probably is one of the major ways that I am dealing with this right now. It's basically how I deal with most of my feelings - good or bad - so why not this, too? And it makes me feel like I'm *doing* something to prepare for this ambiguous kid that will someday, hopefully, be ours.
Only problem is, I'm running out of room in my studio for all the mobiles I've been making. Is there such a thing as a nursery with too much art?