The past few days were a “holiday” weekend for most, but for my wife and I it was something altogether different. Why? Because we’re expecting our first child in about two weeks. Over the course of a few days, we spent 24+ hours preparing the nest for the new addition by visiting such awful destinations as:

• Lowe’s
• Target
• Trader Joe’s
• Fairway (our mega-supermarket)
• Lowe’s (again)

The only way to make these places remotely palatable is to go right when they open in the morning. The Target in Brooklyn was almost enjoyable at 8am on a Saturday. By 11, though? Pure misery. To the right, you can see our Target bill approaching national debt levels. The amount we spent over the weekend almost made me physically twitch, but it’s nothing compared to what we’re in for over the long haul.

The nesting instinct is said to be very powerful in women. You’ll hear stories of moms-to-be scrubbing the floors with a toothbrush and then having their babies within 24 hours. I’d argue that it’s almost equally strong for fathers—the instinct may not be as “hard wired,” but we know when things need to get done.

What obsessive changes did we make to the nest? Well, I’m lucky to have a very handy brother who helped me install new ceiling lights, assemble the crib, make a desk cubby (as we were losing our office to the nursery), and re-caulk the tub. My sister-in-law made us six freezer-bags full of meatballs and chicken cutlets for the first few weeks of parenthood.  So I think we’re as ready as a couple of folks can be.

What kind of power-nesting did you do leading up to the birth of your child?

“Imagine a world where the mother and father of a newborn baby don’t have a laundry machine in their building. Imagine onesies covered in drool and sundry fecal matter building up in the laundry bin. Imagine these tired parents loading it all into a wire cart and walking it down to the “Two-Way Laundromat” down the street. Imagine them picking it up later in the day, freshly washed and folded to the tune of $40. Imagine them doing this four times a month.”

Certainly, there are joys that come with living in New York City. But there are also very painful realities. One is that we’ve lived in an apartment for two years without laundry. This after living in Chicago with laundry in our condo. But with a baby on the way, this pain-point will become all the more agonizing. Of course this is nothing compared to the problems other parents are having around the world, but it’s our little challenge, and naturally we obsess about it.

So we’ve been spending the last few weeks trying to find an apartment with a washer/dryer. Through Craigslist, local online parent groups, tips from friends, and yes, even those real estate brokers (who kindly charge 12% of a year’s total rent for ‘finding’ you a place).

All the places we’ve looked at had laundry, but they just can’t match the size/layout of our apartment. Couple that with the hassle of moving a month before the baby’s due date, and we can see that unfortunately our future is laundry-less.

So we will continue to dream of being able to do laundry anytime we want. And we will still look longingly at those shiny Samsung and LG washing machine TV commercials (the only ads we don’t skip on TiVo).

To you we say: please don’t take that washer and dryer for granted.

Have you had a baby without having laundry facilities? Any survival tips for us would be most welcome.

This text originally appeared in a craigslist ad.

A friend who’s about to have a kid sent this photo to me today. He and his wife were out shopping for the “perfect” pink rug for their daughter-to-be’s nursery. The accompanying text was short and to the point: “I’m in hell.”

How do you deal with the shopping-for-baby experience? Certainly, the dudes love their kids, but shopping? Not so much. After all, most men don’t have the stomach or patience for even the most minimal shopping experience (e.g., to get underwear or socks), so shopping for baby stuff is a particularly grueling a test.

Luckily, I’ve avoided most trips to the stores with backwards “R”s in their names. I do sometimes randomly get a gift for my niece, but it’s not the same thing: it wasn’t a planned or prolonged shopping trip.

What do you do to deal with the experience? Slap yourself around a bit to wake yourself up? Brainstorm new names for the different shades of pink (”flamingo sphincter pink”)? Strangle the stuffed animals for being so ridiculously cute/expensive? There’s aggression there, I just know there is.

How do you cope with the mental and physical challenges of baby shopping?

Spring is upon us, and it’s putting most men in the mind of improving their outdoor spaces (should they be so lucky as to have some).

Ever since moving into his place, my brother had been planning to update his back deck. Years later, he and his wife had a baby. When they started planning their wee one’s first birthday party, my brother finally found the motivation to get the deck done. So with the help of a carpenter friend, we did get it done, with just a few hours to spare.

Did we smash our thumbs with hammers and wish we had the skills of the neighbor carpenter? Of course we did. Did we fall just shy of having enough wood and then cut corners so we didn’t have to make another trip to Lowe’s? Damn right we did.

But it’s got to be the same way with dads the world over. Whether it’s a deck, a swingset, or some other project. You manage to avoid it for years, but then all of sudden, it has to be done…now!

What projects did you put off for years until the very last moment?

Most of us know that’s not possible.

But for a fee (sometimes hefty), you can bring a self-proclaimed Child Safety Expert into your home to judge your killer surroundings. The author of this article in the New York Times invited several such folks to her place to point out the carnage her unstable furniture and garrote-like window shade strings had in store for the babies.

The author tells of her first such consultant visit:

Her initial consultation was $300. That’s a lot for a 45-to-60-minute visit, and supplies and installation are extra. But I was secretly hoping that while she was in my apartment she’d tell me how to rearrange my furniture or what to do about the rug I keep upside down, too ugly to show its face. Maybe by the time she left I’d be living in a space-age fun zone like the ones on her Web site…

Or maybe by the time she left, you’d just be $300 poorer.

Even with the help of a “professional,” doesn’t it seem impossible that one could childproof a home? Those rugrats are going to find all sorts of ways to get into trouble and endanger their lives. Of course, parents should do what they can to keep their home as safe as possible, but is the hiring of consultants going too far?

Besides, that $300 consulting fee could be spent on diapers–you know, to crap-proof your furniture.

Have any of you had a child-safety consultant in your home, or did you rely on common sense to make an attempt at childproofing? Care to share any childproofing tips/tricks?

NOTE: A search of “child proof” in Google Images resulted in this picture. It also speaks to most everyone’s wish to have the Teletubbies incarcerated.