First, to file under “what not to say to a pregnant woman, especially when said pregnant woman is your wife.” Son-in-law Darnell has the same malady that has plagued me all my life. It’s the “think-it say-it” curse. The way he teases our daughter and eight-months preggo mom-to-be, Kishia, I knew what he was getting ready to say, but I was powerless to stop it. Kishia got up from sitting on the floor and walked across the room.
Darnell: “Stop waddling.”
Kishia: Shoves Darnell down the stairs.
Darnell, being a wiry but solid guy, managed to avoid injury.
Yesterday and today were true family work days. Natasha is home on Christmas break, so she went with me and Kelly to work on getting baby Kianna’s room ready at the Darnell/Kishia Brown home in Jefferson City. Yesterday I had “happy pills” with me to ease the pain and discomfort of my bounceless fall on black ice Tuesday morning. Today’s foray to the ‘Capital City was sans happy pills, so by about 7 p.m., I was ready to be rendered unconscious by any means available.
The paint fumes didn’t quite do it.
Darnell and I measured, cut and put up trim and door casing, and painted closet doors and Kianna’s furniture. We managed to goof off just a bit, too.
Kelly, Kishia and Natasha did the room decorating, turning a bumper pad into curtains, meticulously applying tree, blossom, flower and butterfly transfers to the wall, and sundry other decorating-type things that Darnell and I didn’t notice because we were too busy, um, painting.
Kianna’s room is now ready for her Feb. 19 arrival. And Kishia is clearly ready for Kianna’s arrival. She and Darnell will be — already are — great parents.