The Nursery Is Ready!!

The nursery is ready! We had it painted by a wonderful woman named Kathy...and if you know anyone who would like painting done in their house, she is great! She took the images right off of my bedding, but I know she does creative free hand as well. Here are some pics!

The crib...

The changing table/dresser...

The bedding...

The closet that Workaholic created...

And of course my Fonz just loving it...!!

Oprah

Hey all...if you get a chance to watch Oprah today, it's about dogs, and rescue. Well, at least the last 10 minutes are. That's all I saw. BUT, BUT, another great thing is that Jen Lancaster, one of my favorite authors who happens to be from Chicago (and who my brother-in-law's girlfriend was sooo lucky to be able to meet) is on there via Skype. Which is some sort of webcam service I guess? Anyway, watch it. Because I met a few women a couple of nights ago who know all about puppy mills, yet still "saved" their dogs from a local pet store. I don't understand how reasonably intelligent people can be so stupid.

Whoo-Hoo!!

It’s snowing!! I know that we are only supposed to get a couple of inches, but I would skip if I could. The Fonz is going to be sooo excited when I get home and let him out. Zoomies for everyone!!

Memories...

So this weekend I went to the parental’s house to visit with my sister and her brood (yes, anything after 3 kids becomes a “brood) and my cousin. He’s my cousin for sure, I think our dads are first cousins, so I am not quite sure what that makes us. (3rd cousins, something removed?) But anyway, he is a referee for high school and college basketball, and he was working my old high school’s game on Saturday night, so off we went.

(There is this blog that I read where instead of using her husband’s or friend’s real names, she just uses their initials. Sounds great right? Except each of my 3 sisters have the same initial…so that wouldn’t work for me. My sister who lives overseas asked to be called Cleopatra, Queen of all the Universe, which I shortened to Cleo. This sister, I’ll just call her Elizabeth, after another queen…because we all are)

Anyway, so Elizabeth and I can’t remember the last time we have been back to high school, and we are amazed at how it is exactly. the. same. Same ugly blue tiles on the walls of the lunchroom, same ugly pink tiles on the walls of the bathroom. Of course, they did get rid of the death bleachers and replaced them with slightly less dangerous ones. (Makes me wonder how many little kids fell through before they thought that just maybe it might be a good idea to have bleachers that the students couldn’t rock 3-4 feet side to side.) The bathrooms still had that weird strawberry smell. The only thing that really changed was the names on the doors of the head guys…now they all are people that Elizabeth went to high school with. Including the basketball coach, the assistant basketball coach, and maybe the AD?? I digress.

So the game starts and immediately Elizabeth starts taunting my cousin, which he seems to ignore, apparently rowdy fans are rowdy fans, no matter if they are related or not. She gave up pretty quick. He did a good job, he won over the little boys that sit in the front row, and we won the game, so that’s always a plus. (we decided that if there was only one water bottle left for the 3 referees, the kids would give it to him…because those same kids were the water boys. Plus, he gave his water boy a dollar for his hard work. And did you know that sometimes referees in basketball games are called umpires? Talk about confusing) Afterwards I only had to have one awkward conversation with an old high school classmate, while my sister visited with 2 or 3 ex-boyfriends. (Meanwhile her youngest decided to run away from me, but she came back, so I only had to chase her halfway around the gym. Gotta love the small high schools where everyone sort of watches out for everyone)

Another thing that really amused me during the game was this little boy…he was maybe 3 years old. He was wearing this lime green T-shirt. Which I thought odd, most of the little kids were wearing blue or white or a shirt that said their elementary school on it. So I first noticed him running along one of the ends of the gym in the first half. And then I noticed him running up the stairs next to us…on the opposite end of the gym. And then I realized, that for almost the entire game, he did laps around the gym. Across the gym behind one basket, through the cheerleaders, past the kids sitting in the front row, up the bleacher stairs, down the back hallway stairs, outside the doors behind the other end of the gym, in the door, up our stairs, across the length of the gym to the other end, down the stairs and start the whole process over again. I do have to say that I understand why he was wearing a lime green T-shirt…you could always spot him. After the game, he was doing cartwheels on the court as the older kids shot baskets around him.

All I have to say is, his poor mother. If he has that kind of energy every day…poor thing!!

Woof

So Workaholic listens to the radio a lot, because he drives a lot. (sometimes, I think he drives just for the sake of driving, you know, to listen to the radio…because he drives that much) Anyway, he heard on the radio yesterday a story about someone who paid for the following experiment.

A researcher took 2 groups of dogs, and put them on opposite sides of a room. One group, the dogs were taught a trick using treats, and were continued to be given treats every single time they did the trick. The other group, the dogs were taught a trick using treats, and then the treats were abruptly stopped. The first group of dogs continued to do the trick every time they were asked, and the second group of dogs? Here’s the groundbreaking research that someone paid for…they eventually stopped doing the trick…once they realized that they would no longer get a treat.

Can you say NO SHIT??? Has this person ever owned a dog??? Maybe I should start “doing research” with my dog and my friend’s dogs and see how much we can get paid.

The other one that Workaholic found interesting, although again, for me, it was a huge DUH, was that dogs get offended. If you take two dogs, have them sit side-by-side, and have them perform the same trick, and only give one dog a treat, eventually, the second dog will become so offended that he will never perform that trick again. Hell, my dog gets offended if I ask him to get off of the bed. Doesn’t mean he won’t get back on the bed, but when he farts in my face and huffs his way down, I am pretty sure that I have hurt his feelings.

I don’t know who did this incredible research, or why, or why they didn’t just interview any dog owners, or ask to borrow their friend’s dogs, but I thought it was an interesting way to spend some money. Maybe the guy just wanted to play with dogs…in which case, I totally understand.


UPDATE on yesterday’s post: My best friend Drew Brees lost last night, in overtime, by a stupid field goal. Which means that my other Purdue pride-and-joy, Kyle Orton, won last night. What amazed me when watching the game is that it is obvious that Drew just throws the football too damn hard, because no one on his team can catch it, even if it is thrown directly to them. My favorite part of the game though, was afterwards, they showed Drew and Kyle talking, and then there was Joe Tiller!! Don’t get me wrong, I think Joe should have moved to Wyoming a couple of years ago, but all Purdue fans should be proud of where the program was when he got there and where he took it. So…if anyone finds or sees the picture on the internet of Drew and Joe and Kyle that was taken after the game by someone (I saw it being taken on TV) can you pass it on?? It’s got to be a pretty cool picture…and I want one. So thanks!!

Foos-ball

So I have pretty much passed off most of my work. Don’t get me wrong, I still have some stuff to do, but umm…not 7 days worth. Or really, even 2 days worth. (Let’s no share that with my boss though, because I don’t need a new “project” right before I go on vacation right before maternity leave.) So that is giving me lots of time to eavesdrop on conversations that go on around me. (not like I don’t do that usually, but now I have nothing else to concentrate on…except this, which I am not doing a very good job at)

Anyway, I usually don’t care much about professional football, but the boys in our office love "Da Bears", and I get to hear about them all. the. time. And the Bears are playing the New Orleans Saints on Thursday. Why do I care? Because of him….

My dear Drew Brees. He not only is a pretty darn good football player, but he gives tons of money to charity too. And he married his college sweetheart, the *&@%$# who kept him occupied so no one else on campus would even have a chance. (and yes, that included me!!) He lived a floor below my high school friend who played with him, and the only chance I got to meet him, he was sitting in a bathing suit in a hottub. And I did not have a bathing suit, and was not about to get into a hottub in my underwear (even though I know that they matched and were cute). So there went my chance to be Drew Brees’ new best friend.

So anyway…GO SAINTS!!!!

What .The .F*@^.

So my butt has started to feel a bit achy and sore again, but there is no sharp, stabbing pain this time, so I really am not complaining. But, I do find a direct correlation between Lumbergh’s comment, and the following story told to me by a friend of mine about her co-worker, and the start of my butt pain….

"My co-worker just told me that when she built her house (about 4 years ago) and they did the final walk-through she got really upset b/c they put bright pink carpet in her living room. And that wasn’t the carpet she picked and she was soooooooooo upset………because that wasn’t what she picked………so she was really upset…….because she didn’t pick that carpet…….so she was really angry…….because she picked a different carpet…….not that carpet……..so she was really upset. Then her husband told her that wasn’t the carpet – it was the padding."

OK, there are multiple problems with that story…not even beginning with the fact that a married woman in her 30s did not know what carpet padding looked like. Or the fact that they were doing the final walk through without carpet. But why you would ever even admit that happened to you to anyone!!!! Seriously????

Bah Humbug!!

Anybody who knows me pretty well and sees me on a regular basis will know that I hate the holidays. As in, really. don’t. like. Bleh. We don’t decorate our house (gave up on that a couple of years ago after a really whiny tree-cutting excursion with Workaholic…and I’m sorry, fake trees are just not the same as the real thing. They’re so….fake!), we rarely go to other people’s Christmas parties (this year though, we got invited to one that we’d really like to go to…but we have a wedding that night!) and even our gift-giving isn’t very exciting. Workaholic is hard to shop for, mainly because if there is something that he wants, he just goes and buys it. (besides, what do you get a guy that has no hobbies? I am not going to buy him tools that he will just break at work) Me? I cannot ever for the life of me make up a Christmas list. (a couple of years ago, he wound up getting me a camera that he wanted…which I love, but am not very good at using)

There are several reasons for my Scrooge-ness. It’s not the shopping for other people that I don’t like, or even the Christmas music (as long as it is after Thanksgiving), but it’s the general stress of it all. The planning, the rushing, the trying to make everyone happy, (but no one really is) of it all. I feel like there is such a high expectation on Christmas, it’s when everyone gets together, it’s supposed to be the time when you see everyone that you are supposed to, and all is supposed to be jolly and well. But invariably, something goes awry. Someone doesn’t show up, there is a snowstorm, or it is just impossible to be in two places at once. No wonder depression rates hit the highest during the holidays.

So I went to church yesterday, (I just joined this new church, and it’s weird to say this…but they are a bit…preachy?) and the homily was all about how this is the time for preparation, and basically we are supposed to remember the reason for the season. So I think to myself, “Self…maybe that is why you hate the holidays. Maybe you just need to put it all in perspective.” And then the priest talked about how today is a holy day, (and I had to go home and look on wikipedia to find out exactly why it was a holy day) and how this week we’ll be doubly blessed, and there will be a special blessing for all expectant mothers at all masses. So I think, “Hmmm….there is a 7am mass that I could make…I’m up anyway, might as well go. At least I’ll get a little blessing out of it and maybe it’ll help me get more in the spirit.”

So I go (and BTW..I was shocked at how many people were at the 7am mass…about 10 times the number I thought would be there) and it was pretty quick and I was feeling OK about life, until we got to the final blessing…and guess what??? No blessing for me. (And BTW??? I was sitting about 5 feet from the priest) You mean to tell me that I dragged my sorry 9 months pregnant butt out of bed at 5am and I didn’t even get my stupid blessing?? Geez. (either it's a sign that God is mad at me or he doesn't feel like me and the baby need to be blessed) So that’s how my week is going to go. As I walked out, I purposefully walked near the priest, but not so close as to where I actually had to shake his hand, and he said hi and sort of gave me a funny look. I’m sure that he just forgot, and my belly reminded him of his error, but still. Not a good sign. Hopefully I’ll be able to relax and just enjoy the season…either that or I am sure that I will go into labor on Christmas Eve. Ruin Christmas for everyone.

So....Tired....

I have read this over and over in pregnancy books, but I didn't really believe that it would happen to me. I don't sleep well. At all. And you are talking to the girl who has to sleep well, otherwise my head spins and I become a major, raging, bitch. To put it nicely. (I get mad if someone says "Good Morning" to me. Why do people insist on talking to each other before noon!!)

I wake up at approximately 3:30 every morning, and it's not because I have to pee. It's just because. And since it is "just because", I have decided to blame Workaholic. You see, his alarm typically goes off around 4am every day. And since he gets about half the amount of sleep that he should, it doesn't wake him up. So it wakes me up. And the baby. And I have to "gently" wake him up. (Apparently I am so gentle, the poor boy really thought that it was his alarm that woke him up every day...until I stayed at my parent's house on Thursday night and he came home because he had to work on Friday. Let's just say that he overslept. A lot.) I am sooo happy to be right about something. Na-na-na-na-na-na.

Anyway, so I wake up every day at 3:30am. Even in different time zones, I wake up at 3:30am. Which amazed me. It amazed me so much, that when I woke up on Thanksgiving morning, I was just staring at the clock, trying to figure out in my fog of morningness exactly what time it was at home, when my cell phone lit up and buzzed. At 3:34 in the morning, I had a text message. Who in their right mind would be texting "Happy Thanksgiving" at 3:34 in the morning???

So I opened my phone, and I recognized the area code, but not the number. So I figured, What the hell? I'm up. So I texted back a cordial Happy Thanksgiving, and BTW...who the hell is this? Almost immediately, I got a text back saying that it was my cousin Timothy, and WTF was I doing up at that hour??? (never mind that he was the one who started this whole thing) Tim is great fun to go out with and can drink most people I know under the table, so I was sure that was the fuel behind HIM being up at this ungodly hour. So I just told him to have fun and be safe. Makes sense...basically I am saying, don't drink and drive. And from what I found out...he didn't. Good boy. (unfortunately, there is more to the story, but I can't share because there is just no way that I can write it that doesn't make me sound like an idiot. Maybe someday I'll share.)

So I hope that all of you stuffed yourselves as much as I did on Thanksgiving. At one point, my 16 year old nephew looked at me and said "Wow, Aunt Gail just keeps eating and eating. She hasn't stopped." He was truly amazed. Also, fun fact...my sister informed me that I have been having Braxton Hicks contractions. I was whining about being uncomfortable and my stomach being unusually tight as we were wandering around Penney's at 6am, and she let me know that's what that was. Hm! Good to know!

Black Friday

So a tradition in my family for years has been to go shopping on Black Friday. (yes, we are crazy) I think it originally started because it was a way to spend time together and bond while saving money while also knocking out some Christmas shopping. Over the years, we've realized that the insanity it has become has regulated us to also become insane. We went through the ads on Thursday, plotted which stores to hit in which order, and then...the jackpot. My nephew decided not to go home on Thursday night as originally planned, but stayed to *gasp* go shopping with his grandmother and aunts.

This is astounding for several reasons. One, he is 18 and home for Thanksgiving break from his freshman year at college. Two, he had a girlfriend waiting at home for him. And three, he convinced my mother to get up at 3:25am to go wait in line with him at Toys R Us. (to be fair, my mom only waited out in the cold for part of the time, but she was up and there!!) Mom always said that she would never be one of "those people" who gets up at 3am to go wait in line at Toys R Us to get the great deals. But there were 2 things there that were must-haves on the lists of grandkids, and well, she did what any other insane grandmother would have done. I just can't believe that my nephew is the one who got her to do it. Way to go!! Mission at Toys R Us accomplished, AND, they went to Target after that and accomplished another mission. What a great start to the morning.

As for me...let me just say that being 8 months pregnant at 4am at Kohls is not an advantage. People...yeah, they don't even see you. (and all that plotting, and the list...right out the window) But I got what I went for, and we even went back later, when it was still crazy, and got more. We got our traditional stuffed breadsticks from Lucas Pizza in the mall at 6am. Bread and Coke never tasted so good. 7 hours and roughly 10-12 stores later, my sister and I decided to call it quits. We had gotten everything that we could, plus a little for ourselves (hey...don't knock it 'til you tried it. It's just downright stupid to go shopping on that day, when there are such awesome deals, and not pick up a thing or two or three for yourself) I think that we only made 4 trips back to the car, and there was an incident with an exploding Sprite, but the holiday spirit was intact as we made our way home. (only to realize that gas went up 20 cents in the 10 minutes we passed the same gas station twice...guess the deals didn't extend to oil)

Once home, I ate, (leftovers...of course!) as it had been a good 6 hours since the breadsticks, and crashed. A three hour nap wasn't enough, and I slept roughly 14 hours last night. (and today) It's good to be home, and I am excited to sleep in my own bed, in my 64 degree bedroom. I think The Fonz is a tad bit bummed, because when we go to my parent's house, he gets his own twin bed to sleep on, and he doesn't have that here. We try to get him to sleep with us, but he is a bed snob. If he is touched, or if you move at all, he stands up, glares at you, huffs, usually farts, and then jumps down and flounces to the ground in disgust. Hey...can't live in luxery all the time. Might get spoiled.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!!!

Random Thoughts

Again, this morning, I had a great blog going in my head. I should’ve gotten up and written it, as I was wide friggin’ awake at 4am. Once Workaholic left for work though, I fell back asleep and couldn’t wake up for work. And now the genius work of art that was my blog for today is gone. So goes life.

Friends of ours mother made a beautiful blanket for the baby that I received at my baby shower, and we’d like to send a thank you note that includes a picture of me with said blanket. So I was standing there smiling, and smiling, and smiling, and finally I told him to tell me when to smile, he was taking too long. So he said, “Just give me a minute.” And then immediately took this picture. Suffice it to say, we will not be sending that picture. We got a much better one once I stopped laughing.

My sister and I are doing the Black Friday thing. And I think that we are actually going to go at 4am. Because really? Why not? I mean, what else do we have to do at 4am the day after Thanksgiving? A free day off of work for me? (no, sleep is not the answer, apparently) My only hope lies in that the economy isn’t so great, so maybe there won’t be the number of shoppers out that there usually is. Or maybe by the time we are dead, you know, by like 8am, those people will just be going out as we are headed home, van full of presents.

On a side note, does anyone watch The Hills? OK, I’ll admit it, I don’t. I only know what I see on The Soup. (Which I can’t even record anymore because my stupid C@mcast DVR isn’t as smart as my TiVO. It records the same episode 6 times in one week, instead of recognizing that it has already recorded that show!!! 5 times!!!!) Anyway, I digress. Spencer and Heidi went to Mexico and got married. Which is insane, because he is a horrible person that has a creepy flesh colored beard, and because she is pretty and blond. But obviously, not too smart. I wonder if the cameras followed them, you know, because they are filming a reality TV show, and that’s their job. Hopefully they did, because no family or friends were there to witness the blessed, albeit not legal, event. I can’t wait to find out when they break up.

2 Families?

Last night, The Fonz disappeared. I let him out and he was more than thrilled to go…he loves this kind of weather. You know…the cold, windy, blustery kind that makes you want to sit in front of a fireplace? Yeah…he stands in the backyard, facing into the wind, checking out his domain, looking a bit like Mufasa on top of the rock in The Lion King. Apparently last night, he decided his domain was boring. And went a-wandering.

I told Workaholic that I think that he has another family, one that sees him every night, and feels sorry for him, and lets him into their house, and feeds him and gives him treats. And when he has gotten his fill of this new family, gotten all the love and adoration he can handle, he probably knocks the doorknob of their back door, asking to be let out, and they let him. And then he comes home.

Either that or he is having an affair with a coyote.

(This reminds me of Private Practice last night, where a guy brings in both of his pregnant wives. Yeah...he had two families)

So when he finally decided to make an appearance last night, he was all out of breath, and came trotting in like, “Hey, I’m home, let’s play!” As if nothing was wrong. Traitor. I punished him by making him sleep on the bed with me while I finished reading about Guns N Roses and their drug use and downfall. (ironically, the drug use was not their downfall) I am going to be such a mean mom…

Winter Wonderland

Workaholic has spent the past three days working on a project in Michigan, and finally allowed himself to come home last night. (which is to say that his dad told him to go home and he felt comfortable enough with the progress of said project to actually leave) He called last night to report that he was soooo excited that he got to shovel the driveway there yesterday. (yes, he is a freak, and yes, we do own a snowblower…but why use it if you are perfectly capable of shoveling?? Fun!!!)

Anyway, when he walked in to the house, I am sadsadsad that I didn’t have my camera handy, because he presented me with a snowball all the way from Michigan. (I guess the top of his truck held snow the whole way home) So I held it for about .5 seconds, admiring its beauty, and then the Fonz saw it. I swear, I saw his eyes light up. You could actually see the excitement in his body movements, (he was trembling) and within another .5 second, the perfect snowball (good snow for a snowman, packed well) was plucked from its perch in my chilled little hand and whisked across the room. Where it promptly got eaten. In tiny little bites, mostly from the play bow position, and completely. The best part was when I let him outside a minute later, he ran out, and stood looking back and forth across the backyard, and you could just see the confusion. “I don’t get it??? Where is it??? I just ate some!! Where the hell is the snow??????” Poor thing.

What I didn’t realize is that a mere 5 miles from my house, (not even as the crow flies, but by actual roads), is that they got snow! Like, a lot of snow. As in 8-10 inches of snow. Enough to have to shovel, or snow blow, or dig your car out. Enough to be late to work, and to have everyone at work talking about the snow, because most of us got nothing. Not even a light dusting across our still green grass. Poor little Fonz. I won’t tell him if you don’t tell him that the snow was so close, yet so, so far away. (I am posting a picture of him from last winter, it was nighttime, and actually snowing, and he was sooooo happy)

Baby Shower

Yesterday, I had my baby shower. First of all, can I just say a big, ginormous THANK YOU to all who came, and all who bought me presents. Because I’m a bit ashamed to say that I kind of hit the jackpot. This kid totally has everything it needs and then some once it is born. And I’d also like to say another ginormous THANK YOU to my MIL and her sister, who put the whole shebang on. It was super nice.

When the whole baby shower thing started to be talked about, and we discussed venues, and decided that neither one of felt like having 50 of our closest friends and family over to our houses, (no offense…I think we just didn’t want to do that deep clean you feel you must do when having a big party…you know, like scrubbing the baseboards and other crap like that that no one even notices), and we settled on Tiebel’s…I had to laugh because even though that restaurant is sort of an institution for south Lake County, I had never been there. BUT, I heard that they have great fish. (which I know even though I don’t exactly eat fish)

So I walk in, and of course I am not early enough to greet the people who got there early, so I start to say hi to everyone and one of my sisters was quite surprised that I knew everyone there. I try. Hard. But it’s a big family and sometimes I get people confused or especially the little kids. I’m not very good with little kids; I never know what to say to them, so usually it’s just HI! and that’s about as far as I can go. I never think to compliment them on their awesome black Ugg boots, because I am too worried about what their name is and if they noticed that I didn’t say it because I was too scared about messing it up.

The one thing about my shower is that everyone complimented me on how great I look, and how cute I am, and basically saying that I am not huge and ginormous. Which after a while, I totally started to believe, until I saw the picture. I look like a big black and white pear. That is my MIL and mom...you can tell that they are just thrilled to be the grandmas!! I can't really tell if they are laughing or crying, or just want to lay down and take a nap because it was the end of the day and we were all pooped.

But anyway, it was a great time and it was great seeing you all and we'll have to get together again soon! Ya know, at the party that I promised to throw...

Updates

For those of you who have been so kind as to inquire about my ass? It's much better. No more stabbing pains, I can walk fine, go up and down stairs, and turning over in bed is only slightly painful, due to very mild lower back pain. But that's the only time it strikes, so I am happy.

I went to the doctor today, I gained 5 lbs in the last two weeks, which puts me at 25 lbs gained so far. I was hoping to keep it under 30 for the whole pregnancy, but the perils of Halloween and Girl Scout cookies are doomed to be my downfall. The more I gain, the more I have to lose!! The kid has his head down, which I guess is good, considering that's how it's supposed to come out. We're hopeful he/she will stay that way. Otherwise my doc says to "Keep up the good work." I think he likes seeing me because my visits are so short, I don't have much to say or ask. It's like, "Hey, how's it goin'?" "Good? That's great. Okay, see you in 2 weeks!"

And I am liking the new minivan...the girls I work with love it because I can drive everyone when we go out to lunch. The back-up camera is handy, although I still feel weird about using it...I like to use my mirrors too. Old habits die hard I guess. But there is no excuse for running over anyone now. There is a lot of beeping that goes on the car too, so I am getting used to that.

Otherwise, we don't have the nursery ready, we don't have the closet ready, we don't have the house ready, (although the guest room is set up for anyone that comes to stay), and I can promise you that The Fonz isn't ready. He did meet up with his old friend Mr. Skunk last week...but he kept his distance, so a quick peroxide bath took care of it. Thank God for the internet!!

Deep Thoughts, and other such Tidbits

Every once in a great while, someone will comment to me that I haven’t updated my blog in a while…which just shows how many many people I have that read it. Seriously, I guess I had a very busy month of October, and November isn’t shaping up to be much better. But it will. So I have time now, and I sit down to blog….and I am coming up short. Way short. I can’t think of anything interesting to say! How about I just ramble?

With Al Franken running for Senate in Minnesota, every time I see him, I think of “Deep Thoughts with Jack Handey”. Which makes absolutely no sense, because Al Franken played the character Stuart Smalley on Saturday Night Live, and “Deep Thoughts” was usually introduced by Phil Hartman. Anyway, I digress.

When I was a freshman in college, I had this brilliant idea to use “Deep Thoughts” instead of a normal voicemail. But the problem was that I liked to make up my own deep thoughts, and I ran out of ideas after about 3 weeks. And then I just left the last one on my voicemail for about 4 months. The only one that I can remember went something like this… “When leaves fall off of trees, where do they go?” Yeah, I was dumb. And really original…because there is a Deep Thought that goes like this… “If trees could scream, would we be so cavalier about cutting them down? We might, if they screamed all the time, for no good reason.” Now that I have such easy access to the internet, I wish that I could leave a deep thought on my answering machine every week. Maybe I’ll do it here. This one seems especially appropriate.

“Sometimes I think that the world has gone completely mad. And then I think, Aw, who cares? And then I think, What’s for dinner?”

Or this one.

“If you ever feel like you’re on the verge of a nervous breakdown, just follow these rules: First, calm down; second, come over and wash my car; third, shine all my shoes. See, don’t you feel better?”

I am eating my third Blow Pop in three days. They are delicious. At this point, I don’t care that I am rotting my teeth and turning my child on to the wonderfulness of things like Blow Pops, Girl Scout Cookies and milk, chocolate milk, DiGiorno pepperoni pizza, powdered donuts, chocolate donuts (with milk, of course) and Coke. This kid is sitting in a vat of sugar at this point, so good luck to me once it’s born!!

Growing Up

I think that one of the reasons that my husband and I dated for 8 years is that when people get married, it sort of says that you are growing up. And then, when you have kids, that is a big statement saying, "I am growing up." And as much as Workaholic and I like to analyze other people's lives, and say, "Oh, we would never do that", (and then do), we really don't like to admit that we are kind of grown up. So that is why what we did last week was actually incredibly difficult...because it means that we are not only grown up, but also very sensible.

"The Cradle"

Ever since I can remember, well, ever since my in-laws have felt comfortable talking about kids with me, I have heard about “The Cradle”. It was bought when my husband was on the way, (or maybe given, I don’t remember…that’s my brain shrinking you hear) and since then, has been used by almost every kid born on the planet. OK, so maybe that is a slight exaggeration…I believe my child will be the 14th, and it’s been to at least 4 different states, 5 if Illinois is on the list. So you can imagine that I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. But I have good reason!!!!

You see, my husband was a bit notorious as a child. (I didn’t start hearing these stories until after I got pregnant, I am sure there is a conspiracy there, seeing as how up until 7 months ago, my husband and his brothers were GREAT, angels, boys of course, but not hardly any trouble at all.) Ever since then, I get to hear the weird things that they did…especially my Workaholic.

When he was a day old, he got himself stuck in the crib in the nursery. You know, those see through type ones that are just big enough for a newborn? Yeah…he twisted himself sideways and got jammed…and then promptly got pissed. I am fairly certain the nurses stood over him and laughed before taking a picture and then helping him out. (at least that’s what I would have done!)

My MIL claims that he was only a couple of weeks old the first time that he rolled over, and then by the time he was nine months old, he was, literally, flipping out of his crib. But the flipping was after he would stand in his crib, grip the rails, (when he wasn’t chewing on them) and shake. And shake. And shake. He would shake the crib so hard that it dented the wall. And then the crib had to be reinforced before his younger brother could be put in it.

When he was about 2, his brother was crying, and so my oh-so-helpful husband decided to get the poor little guy from his cradle and hold him by his head (as in, head, not shoulders or neck even) as he carried him down the hall to his mother. “Mom, I got da baby!” When he was 10, the phone rang as his mom was getting ready to give his youngest brother his first bath, and by the time she was done talking, the newborn baby was clean and dry and ready for bed. (at least he was a useful older brother).

I always pictured this cradle as just sitting in the attic above my in-laws garage, put together, gathering dust and peeling paint. And my MIL has been saying for months now to go get it, and I keep telling my husband to go get it, and we were there the other day and he went and got it. And it was in a box! Carefully packaged!!, with blankets and such, in a box that would still be fit for shipping to some state across the country, like it has a few times. (well...until Workaholic got his hands on it, now I would recommend a new box)

And when he put it together, (which he realized he had done before), it looked like this…

Isn't it adorable? Isn't it nice?? Doesn't it not look like it's been used by 13 kids??? I was so surprised, given my husband's history with...well, destroying anything he touches, at how nice this cradle is. I know, I know, the kids only use it for a few months at the most before going into a real crib, and really, how much damage can newborns do? But these are not your typical newborns.

And if my kids comes out with red hair, and especially if it's a girl, please say a little extra prayer for me. Because I'll be in for one heckofa ride...

Pain in My Ass

I was not a very adventurous kid…meaning I wasn’t the kid who was doing flips off of the high dive at the local community pool or jumped off a cliff with my bike. I’ve never broken a bone, or had stitches, or even had to go to the hospital for anything. I’m guessing that the reason for this is because I was (am) afraid of pain. I don’t like to hurt. It’s not comfortable, and if it can be avoided, then why not? This could also be the reason why I’m not into working out, and it’s beyond me why people would do things like run marathons. Because at some point, there is pain involved. So that is why the last 24 hours have been hard on me.

Let me explain. This kid is already getting on my nerves. It’s a pain in my ass, literally. OK…more specifically, I think that it is hanging out on my sciatic nerve.

With my cold and this weird tooth pain I’ve been having, now I have to deal with not being able to walk sometimes. Stairs? A challenge. Putting lotion on my legs? Made me cry this morning. My knees have buckled, turning over in bed is a serious debate in my head over whether it’s worth it. And there is nothing that can be done. And it’s possible that this will last for three. more. months.

When I got the flu around 14 weeks, I was afraid that it wasn’t the flu, that it was morning sickness kicking in late, and that I would be sick for the next 6 months with projectile vomiting and constant, non-stop nausea. (and yes, I know that the definition of constant is non-stop…but I wanted to make sure that you knew exactly what I meant). Turns out it was just the flu, and within a couple of weeks I felt relatively normal again.


So I am hoping that this ass pain is going to be the same. I just can’t do it for the next 3 months. I know that childbirth is terrible pain, and so obviously I’ll have to deal with that when the time comes. But until then? I guess maybe it’ll make me tougher, as my husband says. It’s hard to imagine getting used to the sharp, stabbing pains that are in my ass. Although I have gotten used to the dull ache that’s been there for about a month or so. So who knows? Maybe I’ll just deal with it and move on. But for today, I’d really like to just curl up in a ball and cry. Wait, can’t do that. Maybe tomorrow…

So Sorry!!

I’m sorry, I’m sorry. If anyone is even attempting to read this anymore…I know it has been entirely too long since I posted. But I took a 4 day weekend and then got sick, and then got really sick, and have been super busy at work and crabby and actually got an e-mail from someone that said, “Seriously is this all calleds for?” (and yes, he really wrote calleds) Really??? Again, I am doing your job for you and you don’t understand why I am crabby? Anyway….

My four day weekend was exhausting, which is probably why I feel like my lungs are going to come out my nose any minute now. I drove down to Jasper to meet up with my four college friends. Here is a picture of us in front of the famous Schnitzelbank Restaurant. It’s German. And authentic. I had fried chicken. (which I am fairly certain they may not serve in Germany) We asked the guy who took the picture to get the sign in the picture, but as you can see, he wasn’t very good at following directions. Oh well, other than the Cocktails sign…it’s a good photo of the 5 of us.

A little baby shower was held as well…because I’m 7 months along now and my friend Sheila is 14 weeks. Can you believe that someone I went to college with made this cake??

I shouldn’t be surprised, seeing as how she made my wedding cake too…but it is awesome that she can do that and it’s delicious too!!!! And the Purdue cookies were made as well, which are cookies that my friend’s mom made every time she came up to visit her daughter. No one can duplicate them, and whenever I see her, there are always Purdue cookies baked. Who knew that sugar cookies with icing could be so amazing?? My own husband knows better than to touch the baggie that I bring home without permission of exactly how many he is allowed to have and which color icing. (not more than 2!!)

We had a grand ol' time...and now I am just trying to get caught up with minivan shopping (eeks!!) and Purdue games and doctor's appointments and...oh yeah, this damn cold!!! I promise to try to post better and more often...

Work Work Work

Do you ever have those weekends where you look back and are amazed at how productive other people were, but you totally weren’t? I got to take at least 2 naps, and washed some sheets, but that was nothing compared to what my husband and his brothers and dad (and friends) did.

Let me explain, the downside of having a wonderful place to go and hang in the summertime is that in the spring and the fall, there are things that need to be done to keep the place usable. A couple of pictures for you…the list of what was actually done is too long and boring to put here.

My Boilers take on the Nittany Lions this weekend...BOILER UP!!!!!

Taco Hell

I am not a huge fan of Mexican food (this actually extends to most anything non-American, especially if I am in another country. I swear I had to have lost 10lbs when I went to Switzerland last year!!)…although I don’t mind actual, authentic Mexican food. (as long as is it served in a restaurant in the good ‘ol USofA) But there was one time, just once, when I’d had a terrible day at work and Workaholic wasn’t going to be home anytime soon, that I decided to whip my car into the Taco Bell drive thru. (yes, I know that Taco Bell isn’t even close to Mexican, but it’s in the same food group)

You have to understand that I was a cashier for years at a fast paced restaurant. (actually, it’s all relative because I am fairly certain that the average age of our customers was about 85). Anyway, this led me to be one of “those people” who will give you a penny if your total requires getting back 4 cents just so I can get the nickel. I hate pennies. You can’t do anything with them except put them in a jar and say, “Ooo…look at how many pennies I have.” Anyway, I digress.

So on this particular day, my total came to $3.74. (yes, I was feasting at the Taco Bell) I gave the English-is-not-my-first-language boy at the drive thru $5.04. Which should mean that I got back a dollar and 30 cents. You know, get rid of 4 pieces of change and only get 2 back. It’s a win-win. But he stared at the drawer, and the screen, and back at the drawer, and I am watching him, thinking to myself, “Self, I don’t think he can make the change.” But I refrained from helping him, because really, a high-schooler should be able to make change, whether or not he has graduated. You know what I got back??? A dollar and twenty-nine cents. As in NINE FREAKING PENNIES. This was not supposed to happen. I was supposed to just get my little change and drive on to the next window and grab my food and go home, and watch TV and cuddle with my Fonz.

So what did I do? I'll tell you what I did. I told him, “You gave me the wrong change.” I was so stunned by the fact that the dumb kid working the drive thru at Taco Bell couldn’t make change; it was all I could think of to say.

His response? “That’s what the computer said.”

WHAT??? That’s your answer??? Seriously???

He could tell that I was angry at his incompetence, and I actually said, “Well, well…your computer is stupid!!” And then drove on to get my food…which by this point I am sure that someone had seen the previous exchange and promptly spit in my Mountain Dew.

The best part? I actually started crying on the way home. Crying. As in real tears. I don’t know why, but My Parents Are Illegal Immigrants But I am Legal Boy just upset me so much, because he thought I, the accountant, was the dumb one!! Needless to say, I haven’t eaten any Taco Bell since.

(and in case you are wondering, no, this did not happen recently, so I was NOT pregnant, just had a bad day. I'd like to thank my friend at work for reminding me of this wonderful incident)

Slippery little suckers...

Am I the only person on the planet who thought it was hil-ar-ious that they made Kim Kardashian (who is famous for a big ass and a sex tape) dance to Baby Got Back on Dancing With the Stars last night???

On the flip side, I got new furniture today!!! Isn’t it pretty??? (just don’t try to sit on it, you’ll slide right off like you’re a greased pig) (and yes, that is a pouting Fonz...he's come off his Xanax high because he's not allowed on the new couches...and because he is now NINE YEARS OLD!!!)

Milestones and other assorted tidbits

So I turned 30 this weekend. It was fairly uneventful, except I somehow managed to stretch it out 4 days, and I am exhausted. First, dinner and presents with the in-laws. (surprise!) Second, presents and cake with Workaholic, then a blissful sleep after a long, hot, sticky, sad day. Third, visiting with my parents (more presents and cake!!) and finally, a full day of spending money at the outlet malls. (which BTW, I am really good at! Thanks for helping me Nadene!!!)

The learning experience for the weekend is that Xanex can cause the munchies. As evidenced by here. (if you look closely, you can see the blue tongue and blue slobber on the bottom of his lip)

Also, please remember that this is National Stay at Home Week, as declared by the major networks. There is just too much good TV on to step out into the sunlight.

Shaken Fetus Syndrome???

Does anyone know if you can give your unborn child Shaken Baby Syndrome? Of course, I am asking this as an afterthought, because when Kory Sheets was running 80 yards down the field on his way to a touchdown on the 2nd play of the game on Saturday, all I could think of was a) not falling off of the bleacher that I was jumping on and b) screaming my trademark cheer in this situation “RUN FASTER!!!!!”.

(BTW...in case you are wondering, the child protested the jumping by either a) grabbing onto my appendix or kidney or something there on my right side and sqeezing as hard as possible, probably hanging on for dear life, or b) ramming its head into my kidney or appendix so I would feel the pain that it was feeling. Either way, peeing helped.)

Of course, we lost the game, because why should we be able to beat a Top 25 team even though we were up 20-3 at one point? At least Kory feels the same way I do about it. I can’t find the exact quote, but he said something like this… “We get a big lead and then just sit on it. We can’t do that. When we get up big, we need to grab them by the throat, put them on the sidewalk, and stomp on it.” Amen!!

I never claimed to be low maintenance

A friend of ours lives in Houston and sent out an e-mail to let everyone know that they will be bearing down during Ike…and not evacuating. They are right on the line, so I guess they have that option. After reading a few articles on Ike, I’ve decided on what I would need in order to ride out a hurricane…

· A whole house generator
· Enough gas for said generator to last a couple of weeks
· Booze
· Food…lots of it
· Booze
· Toilet paper
· Booze
· DVDs…seeing as how cable will probably be knocked out
· Booze
· Books
· More food
· Booze…or anything else to help me take my mind off of the 100 mph winds ripping my back porch apart.

Any other ideas??

Rusty

Looking back at my post from the other day, it occurred to me to point out that my family in the South isn’t completely heartless when it comes to their dogs. (the dogs just have to be smart enough to survive on their own-duh) A discussion at the aforementioned lunch reminded me of such.

Somehow, inevitably, the Border Collie "Rusty" always comes up whenever the past is talked about. I assume he was a Border Collie, judging by his job on the farm (rounding up the cows…this was before my uncle’s cow call was perfected. eeeyyycav) and by the looks of him in the one picture that my mom has. I was a teenager when I first saw this picture. And to say that I fell in love was the understatement statement of the year.

I knew nothing of Rusty; the picture just appeared one day. It’s an old black and white, with my mom and two of her sisters. (she thinks…but of course, she isn’t sure that it is her, because that was a long time ago and it’s not like she spent her youth staring at herself in the mirror) It’s one of those pictures that you pay a photojournalist big bucks to take now. Total candid shot, but everyone, including Rusty, happens to be looking at the camera. The kids aren’t beaming, but they all are leaning in to him, you can tell that there is total trust there…he isn’t one of the wild dogs that runs around the farm waiting for leftover scraps. (though I am sure he did that too) I would sit and stare at this picture and dream of the day that I would get myself a Rusty…he was just so gorgeous! (of course, I then learned a little something about Border Collies, and have re-thought my acquisition of one…seeing as how I don’t have a farm nor any other job for the dog to do)

My aunt, the one who we forced to go to lunch, thought that Rusty had died a dreadful death, chasing down a neighbor’s truck and latching onto the tire, only to get crushed. Everyone else decided that she was wrong and he had lived to be old enough to get sick and come into the basement of my grandparent’s house and curl up next to the furnace. (OMG…if my dog got sick he would get a throne of soft blankets next to the fireplace, but this was a different time…no dogs allowed in the house) I decided that Rusty dying of old age was way better than getting his teeth stuck in a tire. (which, I have learned recently, is something that Border Collies will do, as proven in Jon Katz’s book “A Good Dog”)

Thinking back, it’s actually quite amazing that there is a picture of Rusty. I mean, he was just a farm dog, and there were 7 kids, and it’s not like cameras were as commonplace as they are now. But they cared enough about him to take his picture. And they kept it for 40 years. And now, a good 50 or so years after he lived, they still remember him fondly, and talk of him often. I just hope that in 50 years, people remember my Fonz just like how Rusty is remembered.

More Stories of Home...

So I promised more stories of the South…well, the South for me anyway. Anything south of Demotte is pretty much The South for me. (that’s because the people are nicer)

I loved going to church Sunday morning and realizing that I am related to about 80 of the 100 people there…and then it only took 40 minutes. And while looking at the pew with my cousin and her husband in it, I realized that of the 6 kids in the row, they came from 5 different sets of parents, because people are all about trading kids for the weekend. And how the priest shut off all the lights while my family was inside talking after Mass and told my aunt, “Just lock the door on your way out.”

I loved how we spontaneously decided to pick up my sick aunt and take her out for lunch…and even though it was my aunts and uncles and my parents, they insisted that Workaholic and I come along. (guess they like having the young ‘uns around) (on that note, I also love how we don’t talk about what is actually wrong with sick people in the family…because really, who needs to know their family medical history anyway??) (my dad once had surgery and we forgot to tell one of my sisters...Santa brought us coal the next Christmas...let that be a lesson to you kids out there!!)

I loved how at lunch, they immediately started talking politics, and no one kept their voice down when saying politically incorrect things, such as “That Obama’s whole family is Muslim!” Which meant I didn’t have to keep my voice down when I said, “That is just an outright lie! He is a total Christian!” (on a side note, I haven’t decided who I am voting for, and when I do, I highly doubt I will be writing about it here…so you’re welcome for that)

And I also loved how we just laughed about our political differences and moved on to talking about babies and work and family and gossip about the neighbors. Like normal people. And I love the discussion of exactly what the cattle call it is that my uncle uses. (something like "eeeyycav") And how it actually works.

It's a refreshing place to go, see the fam, but sad at the same time, because let's face it, the town has seen better days. It is getting harder and harder for young people to stay and have a career and raise their family. Not to say that they don't do it, but it's getting harder. Maybe that's why Chris didn't know what time zone he lived in.

Missing The Fonz

A weird side effect of going south for the weekend is the The Fonz does not come with us. They have a bit of a different view on dogs down there…pretty sure they won’t let him in the house, much less sleep in bed! And I am quite sure that they would frown on the tartar control biscuits, 2 meds, plus fish oil capsules that he gets every day. (whaaat?? I like my boy healthy)

The weird part of it all isn’t necessarily that he isn’t there, but it’s before we leave and after we get home when he still isn’t there. Grandma picked him up while I was at work on Friday, and walking around packing, I felt like I should try to hide the bags so he wouldn’t know that we were leaving. (yes…he recognizes that packing means CAR RIDE!!!! Never mind if he isn’t going…he’s in the car anyway) I also kept turning around whenever I was leaving a room for just a second to tell him to stay, I would be right back, but he was not there! (no reason for him to follow me when I'll be right.back.) Creeeepy. And there were no random outbursts of growling and barking whenever someone dared to walk on the sidewalk in front of our house. So sad. It was a good thing that Workaholic was home, otherwise I would have been sceered. Big quiet house does not mesh well with my tendency to hear things, you know, like when I swear I hear things falling in the basement, but the only thing in the basement is….nothing!! (yes, there was an investigation that followed, led the way by a golf club)

It’s also kind of sad when my dog comes home and takes his sweet ass time getting into the house to see me. I mean, really? It’s been more than 2 days since we’ve seen each other, couldn’t you at least pretend to be excited?? Guess not…he went straight to his food bowl and looked at me expectantly. (feed me bitch!) It’s like he knows that I feel bad for ditching him (even though he spent the weekend swimming and boating…but I wasn’t there, so he knows how to play the guilt card), so he expects mucho attention, in the form of treats. And yeah…I caved. Even though his head smells like poo.

Going Home

I know, I know…it’s been a long time since I’ve posted. I’m sorry, there just wasn’t much funny in my system, and not much in my life that I could talk about either. That all changed with a weekend to good ol’ Vincennes.

I love going down there, things are easy, (at least for visiting), I get to see my aunts and uncles and cousins, and usually get some good old hometown cooking, you know, the kind that clears you out.

We decided to stay at the new hotel in town…only open about 2 weeks! (oftentimes we crash with family, but it gets a little weird when the only time you call is to ask a favor, so I took advantage of my work connections to get a cheap room. Plus, farmers usually frown upon staying in bed until noon) I only saw one bug…which seems to be my mantra lately with hotels. I consistently drown the same bug in the toilet in every hotel that I stay in. But what I really fell in love with was the front desk rep, Chris. (fortunately, Chris didn't care what time we got out of bed)

For those of you who don’t know, Our Man Mitch, our dear govn’r, recently decided that no one in the world knows what time it is in Indiana. (It was real simple, we were on Chicago time in the summer and New York time in the winter. We had the best of both worlds…it didn’t get dark at 4pm in the winter and it didn’t stay light until 10:30pm in the summer, and there was no such thing as changing clocks.) But dear old Mitch changed all that. And now, I really don’t know what time it is in Indiana. Because most of Indiana is on Eastern time, but where I live is on Central. And when the change was made, so was Vincennes. I knew things had changed recently, but still wasn’t sure what time it was in Vincennes when we got there at 11:30pm my time on Friday night. I asked what I thought was a relatively simple question….What time zone are you in? His answer? “Uh, um, I don’t know, its 12:30, if that helps.” Yeah, dumbass, that helps, and by the way? You are on Eastern. After the whole debacle, the front page news, the petitions that went around, how can you not know what time zone you live in??? And you work in the hospitality industry??? Geez. Welcome to town.

The other not-surprising answer to a question that Chris didn’t know was if the hotel offered high-speed internet, and how much did it cost. I know, we threw him with 2 questions…but nowadays, free wireless internet is a standard in most small chain hotels. But you never know…so I asked. Answer…”Uh, yeah, um…I don’t know, no one has ever paid for it before.” Gee…thanks Chris.

I didn’t dare to ask him to settle my bill, and thankfully everyone else was perfectly wonderful and competent, and the breakfast was just as good as the commercials say they are. It was a great stay…I just hope I don’t have to talk to Chris again!

Tomorrow...more on "home"!!

Go Cubs Go!!

So Workaholic and I are pretty laid back, and when my brother-in-law asked if we wanted to go to the Cubs game on Sunday, I was all in. Who wants to hang out at the lake when you can be sitting in the third row??? Yeah, it was awesome…

Jeff Samardzija was totally checking my pregnant self out… (or perhaps he was checking out my newly well-endowed chest...)

Happy Day

On a happy note, I was only five minutes late to work today!!

On a happier note, I think I may buy my first ever Sports Illustrated this month…I must say that I thoroughly enjoyed watching him kick ass in all 17 races. Especially when he wore the swimsuit that was only bottoms....

Surfing

So you all hear me talk about surfing...here is a video of my brother-in-law working his magic. The next guy Max also lives on the lake...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgxih56Dgz0
(I haven't figured out in the past 5 minutes how to just put the actual video on the site...sorry!)

Dreams and stuff

So I’ve been having these really weird, f-d up dreams lately. Some of them are pregnancy related, some are not. Many of them have to do with the end of the world…which probably could be interpreted to me being scared about having a baby. (I mean eeks! I am personally responsible for entertaining this thing for the next 18 years, and along the way, make sure I don’t kill it by letting it eat lead paint and jump off the roof of the house, and at the same time make sure that I am creating a productive member of society.) (and yes, I often do refer to the baby as it…purely out of laziness…it’s a lot easier to say or type “it” than “the baby” over and over) (and since we aren’t going to find out what it is, it’s an it until it’s a him or her…you know, when it’s screaming it’s head off because it doesn’t want to come out) On that note, my friend told me that the baby won’t come out screaming, it’ll come out yelling “FFUUUUUCCK!!!” (guess whose been dropping the f-bomb a lot lately?)

Oftentimes, I’ll wake up in the morning and have to lie in bed trying to decipher my dream. This has caused me to be late for work, oh…every day in the past 3 weeks. Today I was a half hour late. Oops. I’ll also compose my blog in my head at that time, and then promptly forget what ever I was going to type as soon as my feet hit the floor. So instead of you guys getting a genius incredible blog from me at 8am, you get crap at 4pm. Sorry ‘bout that.

So I’ve been reading a new blog lately, and even though this chick totally does NOT need a plug from me, who gets no comments on her blog, (she gets about 500+ a day), I have to link to her. I want to be her…at least take her pictures and get to stay home and blog all day. She makes enough money off of the advertising from her blog that her husband was able to quit his job. Seriously??? (and if you were wondering, no, I don’t have any advertising on my site…mainly because I wouldn’t know how to do it…I don’t have my own personal IT department in my head) Her name is Heather and this is her website…check out her Daily Chuck, which are pictures of her dogs, and her Daily Photo, which are other pictures, that I haven’t really looked at. She’s pretty cool, ya know, for a Mormon. (or ex-Mormon…at least non-practicing Mormon)

Boys will be boys

I never really realized it, but my husband and his brothers are really kind of funny.

While surfing over the weekend with a friend on the lake, the friend asked, “If you have any pointers or see anything that I am doing wrong, feel free to speak up.” BIL’s response? “Surf better.” Really?? Surf better?? Thanks! Amazingly enough? It worked! (although I feel that my advice to “widen your stance” was probably more beneficial, but “surf better” may have helped too) (also keep in mind that I have never actually let go of the rope while surfing and these guys are heads and shoulders above anything that I will probably ever be able to do on a surfboard behind a boat…but I’ve watched enough people get up, fall, get up, let go, fall, etc. that I feel like I’ve picked up a few things)

After watching Michael Phelps win his record tying 7th gold medal by less than one one-hundredth of a second on Friday, my husband says…
“He didn’t break the world record? What a failure.”
(the fact that Michael Phelps can swim faster than he could ever run is besides the point)

My youngest BIL has too many off the wall one-liners to think of…but my drive to dinner Saturday night re-assured me that I think I can handle being the mom of boys, if that’s what I have. I don’t know what he said, (I think it had something to do with being the best looking of the three) but the entire 20 minute drive was my husband and his brother beating on their little brother. And all I did was stay between the lines and smile…let them beat the crap out of each other, at least then they’ll leave me alone!

Ahhh...the weekend

On Saturday night, my husband turned to me and said, “You’ve just had the perfect day, haven’t you? Nobody bothered you and you got to take a nap.” Sad fact? Totally true.

I watched the Olympics for hours, I cleaned up thousands of bugs that had lost their life to our screened in porch, I cleaned & replaced the screens (that have been out of our windows for going on 4 years) and was finally allowed to have a breeze waft through my stinky house. Workaholic cares so little about sports that he totally didn’t bitch when I wanted to watch dressage and women’s basketball, but he was all about watching Misty May and Kerri Walsh play beach volleyball. Am I the only one who thinks out of all athletes, women beach volleyball players have the best bodies??? OMG…they are hot.

Sunday was different, but OK. We made the executive decision to move our bedroom to the upstairs. Which involved lots of heavy lifting, (not by me), discussions…I mean orders (yeah…by me), and many breaks to watch more Olympics (me…again). We now have a sa-weeet set-up which I will only have to leave in order to eat. And yes, we do have 2 big screen TV’s in the bedroom. (for now)

I also decided that it was time to grow up and go to church. After all, I am having a kid, and it’ll have to be baptized, and taught the fear of God. Where else can you do that other than a Catholic church???

It’s been a while since I’ve been to a church where the old people dressed to a T, yet also found it OK to talk during mass, only to complain about those around them. “I can’t believe that mother hasn’t taken that crying baby out yet.” “That sippy cup dropped on the ground and the baby just stuck it back in his mouth!” (this one was emphasized by a slap to the forehead). I also love love love the woman singing behind me an octave too high and just a little too loudly. You know who I’m talking about.

Anyway, I got my church on…although I don’t think I’ll be returning to that particular church. I listened to the readings and gospel; I really don’t need a recap in the homily. Thanks though. Next time…I’m trying out St. Michaels!

Oh boy....

Exact quote from my husband...

"Doesn't everyone have two big screen TV's in their bedroom?"

Is This a Bad Thing?

Exact quote from my husband about 10 minutes ago...

"Sweetheart, I figured out why you have been getting headaches. You been getting poisoned by carbon monoxide."

Greeaat. I hope that doesn't affect our unborn child.

Water Drama

I was all set to write a rage-y blog last night, because one of the men that I work with (he is in another town, so it’s all over phone and e-mail) called me and asked, “So am I having the prego moment, or are you?” Excuuuse me?? Just because you don’t pay attention and aren’t clear in your e-mails does NOT mean that I can’t understand you simply because I am pregnant. But then, I decided to go to bed, (because I was worn out from the hating) instead of write my angry blog.

And as I am settling in, all snuggled up, Fonz at my side, I see a flash of light and CRASH BAM BOOM!! And then pounding rain. Normally, I love summer storms…but I don’t like ones that go on for SIX HOURS. Needless to say, I did not fall asleep.

But that’s not the kicker. The power kept going on and off, and around 2:00am it went off for the last time. I asked my Workaholic ever-so-smart husband if we should be concerned about water in the basement, you know, since it had been POURING RAIN for 6 HOURS. No, he says. As long as the power keeps flashing on and off, we’ll be fine. Never mind that it had already been off for 15 minutes.

Then around 2:30am, a knock on the door. Workaholic sits up in bed (I guess he fell right to sleep…not me!) and can’t figure out what it is. Duh…it’s our neighbor, who has water in his newly finished basement, wanting to know if we had a generator. (Yes…I knew this before even answering the door, because I am a genius). So Workaholic is shocked that our neighbor has water, and heads down the basement stairs, and all I hear is Splish. Oh dear. Oh shit. Oh dear. Oh shit. What do I do now???

I have to say that I am incredibly impressed with what I saw taking place over the next 4 hours with my husband. With one simple sentence, “It’s time to go to work.” he was off. Him and the neighbor jump in the van to go get a generator, (because obviously, if you own a generator, the most sensible place to keep it is in a warehouse, 15 minutes from your house), and drive through 3 foot floodwaters to get back. They set it up, and Workaholic grabs a saw and some 2x4s to create shims to raise anything that is sitting on our basement floor. (fortunately there was only 2-3 inches of water). Then we clear out the closets, take off the doors so the bottoms don’t rot, and he heads back to the warehouse for fans and another pump. When he gets back, he goes to the most wonderfulest store on earth, (for those of you who may be confused at to which store that is, it’s the Home Depot…they normally open at 6am, but they opened early today) to get a water-getter-outer for the carpet. (at this point, at 4:30am, I finally get to sleep)

As of now…he is still working. And yes, we do have a battery back-up for the sump pump, and the only answer I got was, “It couldn’t keep up.” I think I’ll let it go at that...he’s earned it.

A dear old friend

So my Fonz met up with an old friend last night. They only meet in the shadows, right around the time I am ready to go to bed. His name is Mr. Skunk, but we prefer to call him “Oh Shit”. This is at least the third time in his life that Fonz has met his friend, and I think he is learning something.

The first time, his head was soaked and I am surprised that he was not blinded by the skunk piss. (I can still see him running drunkenly, zig-zagging across the back yard, tripping over the deck stairs in a desperate attempt to come when called) The second time, it was almost as though he had rolled in it, leading me to believe that he had dodged a direct hit, but perhaps the aroma settled on him after the fact. This time, he got a square hit…on the tail. Meaning?? My beloved Fonz was turning tail to run as fast as he could when he heard those teeth chattering in warning, but apparently he didn’t run fast enough.

My wonderful husband agreed to wash said dog, seeing as how I am in a delicate position. (I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him that I’ve done this twice before, at midnight, and it was his turn and that I was perfectly capable of washing my dog’s ass, but since he volunteered and all...) So he did, and I helped by giving him the magic formula, (1 quart of 3% hydrogen peroxide, ¼ cup baking soda, and 1 teaspoon liquid dishwashing soap), and turning the hose water on and off. Aren’t I helpful??

What amazes me about the stench of Oh Shit is that it is worse than poop. It penetrates your nose, and skin, and clothes, until you are sure that you are the one who got attacked by a real life version of Flower from Bambi. All Workaholic had to do was open the door, (and promptly shut it), and within 10 seconds the smell had made its way across the house to our bedroom, (where I was reading about a woman who played animal warden and trapped skunks), and I rolled out of bed. This isn’t something that can be put off until morning.

The good news is that his tail now smells like Suave lavender conditioner, the bad news is that I think he still smells and want to bathe him again. FUN!!

Im-Proper Dog Etiquette

So I have a request to talk about the lake, and also a request to not be depressing. Ooo-kkkaaay. Let’s try.

So on Sunday, we decided to go out on the water, and of course, The Fonz was the first on the boat. (If we leave the dock without him, he has actually been known to jump off the pier and swim after the boat) If you can’t tell from his picture, he really is a handsome devil. Some might even say “pretty.” He is the happiest damn dog, and he is even happier when he is digging for rocks, or chasing rocks, or swimming around in random circles. (hey…easily entertained means less work for me-eee)

So here he is, swimming around in circles, happily, and he doesn’t even seem to mind the young energetic Labradoodle and her mom who are getting in his rock digging way. Then, another boat pulls up. (key in doomy music now) And another dog gets into the water. And the young energetic Labradoodle runs for the hills. Meaning, she promptly hides behind her mom and gets as far away from the new dog as possible. I am not really paying a whole lot of attention, I figure Fonz will become snobby soon enough and go play by himself, as he tends to do. Suddenly, there is growling. Oh dear.

Turns out, new dog likes to hump. Hence why Labradoodle ran (or swam, as the case may be). He humps anything that moves. He’d hump a swaying tree. Now would be a good time to explain why Fonz being pretty hasn’t exactly always worked out for him. Ever since he was a year old and I would take him to dog parks, he would get molested. Not the dominating, I am bigger than you, humping. The “I WANT YOU AND AM GOING TO TAKE YOU AND LATCH ON AND NEVER LET GO!!! YOU ARE MINE!!!!” type of molesting. And finally, much to my surprise and delight, he got sick of it. He started showing his teeth. That didn’t faze the horndogs. Then he would growl. They might back off, but then they’d be back with a renewed vengeance and determination, circling and stalking and behaving as though they were cat burglers. Finally, if he snaps and tries to bite, they back off long enough for me to get between them and chastise their owners for having rude dogs. (because I don’t care what you say, a dog mounting another dog is NOT appropriate)

I told new dog’s owner (who I really like BTW) that if his dog is going to hump, there WILL be a dog fight on our hands. He promptly removed his dog from the water. BUT, later, he approached Workaholic and said, “So, your dog is really aggressive huh?” As if it was Fonz that was the problem. (Ummm…yeah no) Talk about confused. Workaholic looked at him as if he was Mars and we all were on Earth, and it slowly dawned on him, the earlier growling. And thankfully, he retorted, “Not unless he is being humped. He doesn’t like that.” HA!! Inappropriate!!

Moral of the story?? If your dog humps, I feel bad for you. But don’t laugh or think that it’s funny…because I won’t be paying any vet bills for any damage that Fonz inflicts. If I was getting humped by some horny lesbian chick, you’d bet I’d bite too!!

Dreaminess

Do you ever have those dreams where you wish you wouldn’t wake up? Or those ones where you desperately want to wake up and then you do, and you are wide awake and afraid to go back to sleep? Yeah…I’ve been having those lately. One of them involved wolves, another a roller coaster, there was a marathon shopping spree filled with drugs and sex. And last night? Last night, the world was coming to an end. By way of the destruction of all Marriotts and Hiltons. Violently. I am fairly certain my boyfriend and I saved the world, but I’m not sure what happened after that. Don’t ask me where I get this stuff.

The thing is, I have always loved sleep. When I was little, I had a really hard time falling asleep, but once I was there, I never wanted to leave. I do remember nightmares about the Incredible Hulk and the brown walls of my bedroom spinning, and going in and laying on the floor next to my mom in her bedroom. But I also remember the time when my sister’s friend from down the street burst into our bedroom at 7:50am when the bus came at 8:10, and we were both dead in our bed. And no, mom did not let us skip that day or take us…we had to go. I am pretty sure I tried the “My stomach hurts” line, but she kicked us out the door. All I wanted was a couple more hours sleep!!!

Thinking back, I was rarely ever actually sick. But I hated getting out of bed and going to school. So I would know exactly how many sick days I had, and calculated when I wanted to use them. I made sure that they were evenly spaced, not taken too close together, so no one would get suspicious. And when I wanted to stay home, well, my stomach hurt. I am pretty sure I even did this in elementary school…I never understood those kids who strived for the “perfect attendance” record. What was the point? (a little certificate you got a the awards ceremony at the end of the school year) This has carried over into my adult life…I am very careful about taking my vacation days, but the difference is that when I am sick, I am usually actually sick. Unless I want to go shopping or the beach. But don’t tell my new boss that!!

Update

You will all be glad to know that I am feeling much much better. I still get a little nauseous if I don’t eat, or if I drink too much of one thing, but other than that, all is well. (no emergency trips to my new frenemy, the porcelain god) I did finally cave and buy a new pair of jeans, one size up, even though I don’t think I’ve actually gained any weight?? How exactly does that work? I am looking forward to this weekend…although the exact plans have yet to be laid. Can we still be this spontaneous when we have a kid?

I Really Thought I was Doomed

If you haven’t noticed, I am a bit nervous about this baby thing. I haven’t really gotten to the part in my head where I actually have it/him/her yet, so I’ve been reading tons of books about pregnancy. And the one thing they all go on and on about is morning sickness. And the one thing they all say is that you are pretty safe/lucky if you get out of the first trimester without experiencing it. Meaning, you won’t get it.

So imagine my surprise, when, at 15 weeks, I felt nauseous. I mean, it was sitting in my throat all day, right there, just bursting to come out…I couldn’t eat, I got no work done, and I slept after leaving work early just to keep it at bay. That was Monday. Tuesday, I thought I would be smart and head it off, so I ate as soon as I got out of bed, but once I got to work, it kept getting worse. Around 11am, I gave up and trekked down to the 3rd floor, which is unoccupied, and girls? If you ever notice that I have disappeared for an extremely long time, you might want to check the third floor to make sure I didn’t fall and hit my head and am lying bleeding, never to be found. Because really...there is no more private place in the building than the bathroom on an unoccupied floor. Just be careful if you get seasick in the elevator. (yes, it can happen)

The first time I yakked wasn’t so bad. It was when I had to run down there after I ate lunch where I was shaking and crying and had puke all over myself because apparently, if you vomit violently enough, it’ll just bounce right up out of the porcelain god back at you. (this is something new to me…I am usually a very clean puker...then again, that is for hangovers, and there is nothing but remnants of alcohol in your stomach at that point) (speaking of hangovers, I have the worst. Meaning I get all nauseous and have to throw up at least 10-12 times before I can even consider putting food into my stomach...I had figured that since I was cursed with such terrible hangovers, that someone upstairs had decided to go easy on the morning sickness)

I had to have looked awful, because the two office gossips chose this moment to ask me “How was I doing? And have I been sick? And when am I due? And are we going to find out what it is??” Please, kill me now. (wait, that is a terrible thing to say consider I am an incubator right now) Can’t you see that I am shaking and pale and have been crying?? Leave me alone!!

Even though I had a sore throat Sunday night, and the nausea was non-stop and laying down was the only thing that helped, (as long as I was in my own bed, of course…the little bench on the 3rd floor is a crappy substitute), I never believed that it was possible that I had a bug. Everyone kept telling me, “Call the doctor.” And say what? I am nauseous and vomiting and can’t eat. Yeah, that’s called being pregnant. I was sure that I had been cursed with the “morning sickness” and that I was doomed to be sick for the next 6 months and that I was not going to survive it. OK, I’ll admit it, I am a wuss. (and perhaps a bit of a drama queen??) But what was really killing me was the headache, it was like an Amtrak train was rolling over my brain. I finally caved and took one Excedrin on Tuesday night.

So before leaving work only 20 minutes early Tuesday, I e-mailed my wonderful husband a grocery list. Which consisted of things like chicken noodle soup and Gatorade and 7-Up and saltine crackers. And I got home and proceeded to cry and puke some more…but that was after having to pull over on the way home to projectile vomit out the car door, because who has the foresight to unbuckle your seat belt??

Fortunately, I was able to hold down Campbell’s chicken noodle soup, just the plain stuff, and 7-Up around 8:30 Tuesday night. And by 10pm, I was able to walk down a flight of stairs without stopping at the toilet first. I took the day off yesterday and thankfully, was vomit-free…although, to be fair, I was horizontal most of the day. In the evening, I started to feel normal again, you know, not pregnant?? But around bed-time, the headache and nauseau started to attempt to make a comeback. I killed it with a Tylenol PM. (yes, I can have that, it's just Tylenol and Benadryl)

So I would officially like to thank my mother and the advertising people at Campbell’s around 1984. My mother, for buying the stuff and teaching me how to make it in the microwave, and telling me to eat it whenever I got sick, and the Campbell’s people for telling me that if I ever got sick or cold, to eat their soup. The brainwashing totally works…it’s been all I’ve eaten all day. And it is the only thing that I’ve eaten in the past 2 days that hasn’t come back up. I even brought it for lunch today, a minute and thirty seconds from my little bowl of heaven.