Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, but I think I'll miss this one this year

The other night at dinner The Joey asked me "Mommy, why are you a Grinch?" This, because I said what I wanted to watch during dinnertime is "How The Grinch Stole Christmas", but only if we could stop it before Grinchy saved Christmas. It's just a much better ending! So when The Joey asked me why I'm a Grinch I looked over at The Husband and he was looking at me like "I knew someday this was going to catch up to you and you'd have to explain your dislike of the holidays to our children". The best way I knew how to talk to Joey is to tell him how much I love making Christmas special for him, making him cookies and making cookies with him, wrapping presents for him and seeing him open them, making pretty things for the people we love, going to church and saying Happy Birthday to Jesus, spending time with our family and friends, etc. And I made sure to tell him that what I didn't like was all the commercials and stuff the stores try and make you buy, how busy the roads are because people think they need to go out and buy a bunch of stuff, etc.

I don't know if he got it, but he was quiet after that.

It's 2 and a half weeks before The Elliot is supposed to get here! And I have a reason to want to keep him in my belly until the 11th. The Older Sister got engaged last month(whoo-hoo!) and since the entire clan will be in one place for Elliot's birth she and I schemed up a little surprise for our mom. We have an appointment to go look at wedding dresses the day before I'm scheduled to go into the hospital. So if you know Mom and tell her before she gets here I may just have to hunt you down. She's all "this trip is all about A. and The Elliot" and usually I LOVE things to be all about me but after giving birth all I feel is gross and I just want to be alone with The Husband and the new being I spent most of a year making, not handing it over to everyone under the sun. Like my friend once said, "I made it - I get to play with it first!" But I'm so grateful that everyone is coming so I'm going to do what I can to keep myself in check. I think you must have had to have been at The Joey's birth to understand....

A long long time ago (or four and a half years) I was at the hospital bright and early to give birth to The Joey. The Husband, my bestie, my mom, his parents and brother and grandfather were there, but waiting in the waiting room (except The Husband, of course). After The Joey was freed I spent time in Recovery and then was wheeled back to my room. Thank goodness for drugs, because for the next two days there was a steady stream of visitors that I really would have preferred ask us if they could come visit. They didn't come all at once - they staggered their visits so that I had no chance to shower, put makeup on, fix my hair or rest for those two days. I don't in any way doubt the sincerity, generosity (they all brought gifts!) and excitement of their intentions but it is more polite to wait until the new parents go home. I wound up pushing myself really hard to be able to go home and get some peace and quiet.

So we were really happy to be having The Elliot far far away in the land of Fort Worth, where hopefully we could control who would and would not be allowed. My bestie, my parents and brother and sisters, The Husband and The Joey (of course!), and his parents are allowed. Everyone else will just have to wait. And The Husband has promised that he will herd people out when I need to rest or just need to be alone for a few minutes. Thank you Superman!

Speaking of Superman, I totally had a breakdown last night. It suddenly hit me that nothing is ready for The Elliot to get home - we haven't even bought the carseat yet! Our registries at Target and Babies 'R Us are still full of stuff we've yet to get. I kept telling myself that we just needed to finish up Christmas before we could finish buying stuff for the nursery but I only did the math last night that proved how close the dates of Christmas and The Elliot's birthday really are. So while I came unglued The Husband quickly became Superman and we've made some semblance of a plan to finish the nursery in time, carseat and all.

Have no fear Little Elliot, we'll be ready for you yet. Mom promise.

Hello I've waited here for you everlong

Hello...?

Is anyone still out there?

[crickets]

While I never promised to be a great (or even consistent) blogger, months without a post is probably too long. So I'm sorry. I was busy growing a person.

I'm still not done growing a person... and I'm so over it. I think we're down to about 9 weeks, maybe less. I've lost count. Whoever decided that nine months would be a good amount of time for babies to grow needs to reassess the situation. It sucks. And I'm tired. And my back hurts after doing something menial like cleaning the stovetop and then I can't do anything for the rest of the day. I'm fed up with being useless and in pain. I want to be able to pick up The Joey or take him outside to play or get on the floor and color... something. Anything.

Venting - done.

So I have a ton of things coming up, and most are requiring my craft skills to be in top form. I'm still working on the picture frames for the nursery (pictures will follow when the room is complete, probably January 2010), and then next on my list is a tablecloth for the table The Husband made for the living room. Yes, made. Handy husband + crafty wife = more money in the bank! So then after the tablecloth is done, I'm going to have to put everything aside and start working on holiday madness. I think I've got the design for my younger sisters' Christmas gift done in my head. Actually I have two ideas, but I don't know which one to go with. I was going to make a set of two....

Luckily we're purchasing more than creating this year, solely to preserve my sanity. But when you're purchasing for three of the hardest people to shop for (The Husband's family) sanity is pretty much out the window from the get-go. I love my in-laws and I know how lucky I am to have a great relationship with them... but they are soooo hard to shop for!!!! And The Husband is not really very much help. At all. And my suggestions are all met with, "I dunno...."

Apparently I wasn't done venting. More apologies. I think I'll have some egg rolls for lunch and the world will be a better place.

Who gives a fuck about an oxford comma?

I remember my first day of school.

My mom got me up and put me in my dress that matched my older sister's. I had a full breakfast and we took the obligatory pictures, smiling and super excited about going to kindergarten. We got in the car and started the drive to the elementary school.

And there were no crossing guards.

And no kids walking to school.

And no traffic.

And no cars in the parking lot.

Turns out it was the day before the first day of school.

My first day of middle school my mom's car wouldn't start so the neighbor dropped me off. I was super late for my first day of high school for some reason I can't remember.

The Joey's first day of school wasn't like any of that. We took him into the school and he never gave us another glance. There was another kid crying and The Husband and I thought the same thing (we found out later): he's going to think there's something to be scared of, so let's not make a big deal out of goodbyes. Which turned out to be fine because The Joey started talking with his teacher and got in line and never looked at us again. I looked at the teacher and said "Is that it?!" and she said "Well, I guess so!" We went into the room and dropped off his school supplies and the line started to move. There were other parents in the room and we all kinda followed them out. Then The Husband and I went to find the nurse's office to drop off his updated shot record minus the absurd chickenpox vaccine (more on that another time) and we kept running into The Joey and his class! We'd hide behind corners so he wouldn't know we were still there... not that he would have noticed. He was totally in his own world, so happy to be at school.

Two words summed up yesterday, at a level I didn't know I could reach: so proud.

Look at me, look at me, Hands in the air like it's good to be

Slacker slacker slacker! I wear my title proudly. It's not like I haven't been doing things - I've been doing TONS of things. That's just the problem....

The Husband and I have reached a critical point in this pregnancy. I like to call it "Yeah... but how did it get in there?" Because that's the question Joey seems intent on getting an answer to. We tried to sugar-coat it with "Well, it takes a little bit of Mommy and a little bit of Daddy and a whole lot of love," only to be answered with a pause and "Yeah... but how did it get in there?" So we try again, with "Well, Mommy and Daddy love each other a whole lot and we love you a whole lot so we decided to have another baby," - "Yeah... but how did it get in there?" So I have no idea what to tell a four year old about sex and any book I could find at Barnes & Noble would probably make me giggle so we're just kind of not answering him for now. The Husband says he wants to wait until The Joey can be fully embarassed by the answer to the question. I plan on waiting until he's old enough to be truthful with.

So I guess I'll work backwards from here on out because honestly, I can remember what I did this week but not really what I did last week.

I am in the middle of an embroidery marathon. I can't stop, and I really shouldn't. Because I am the smartest person in the world, I decided to make a gift for a friend's baby shower but didn't really assess the project as a whole and there's a hell of a lot of embroidery to be done by the end of next week. Since she's probably reading this (hey Lauren!) I won't go into detail as to what it is but I can tell you I'm very happy to do it because I love this girl to death and am so happy for her and her husband and their baby girl. And I'm not even being facetious - I really mean it!

We also ordered our tickets to the circus next week! And I actually found badass seats for a badass price! See, The Husband brought home a flier from his work advertising 25% off ticket prices. So upon deeper research it was impossible to find good seats with the discount. So I remembered looking at the website last year when we thought we wanted to go and finding a military discount... for 50% off ticket prices!!! So then I went to the Ticketmaster website and looked for the best seats for every day the circus is in town. We wound up with center ring seats in the first row of the balcony for $7.50 a ticket! What we've found out about the whole circus thing is that The Husband and I are more excited about going to the circus than The Joey. I'm sure, though, that once we pay for parking and cotton candy and a glow wand and a souvenir cup The Joey will be more excited to be at the circus than we are.

Tuesday I ordered this (thanks Lauren!) for The Joey's Robot Room. and it said it would take 3-5 business days to arrive. So imagine my surprise when I saw the man in brown drop a big box on my doorstep and drive away yesterday afternoon... it was the sheets! We had an awesome time looking at the robots and talking about getting a new Big Brother Bed and then when the novelty was gone The Husband and I discussed putting a waterproof mattress pad on the Big Brother Bed. I wonder why they call it waterproof... everyone really knows it's being peeproof that really matters.

I got to spend last Sunday with The Doctor, and we had a blast. Luckily she works REALLY early in the morning so we get tired about the same time in the afternoon, so I wasn't out too late. We went to see "The Proposal" and were greatly surprised that we enjoyed it so much. I thought it was going to be your typical formulaic romantic comedy and while there were some of those elements to it, the greater proportion turned out to be hilarious and awesome. Then we went in search of pregnancy church clothes and athletic shoes... not to be worn together, of course. In between there we got some beyond-yummy-lunch that made the parasite very very happy. It was spicy!

I have no idea what else has happened since I last posted. All I can think about is embroidery. Someday I will be sane again....

Take the money and run

Of all the times for my doctor's office to be running late, why must it be on the day I intentionally drank copious amounts of water to ensure I coyld provide a sample? When I was here last they were running on time and I had peed the hour before my appointment and I couldn't, well... perform. So I haven't gone since about 1:30 this afternoon and I drank extra water and it's almost 4 and I'm going bonkers. Luckily there is no one else in the waiting room but the staff are about to see the best damned potty dance EVER.

I bounced this idea off The Big earlier today, and I think I want to try my hand at selling my crafts. It's not much but I do so love the time I spend in front of my easel or at my art table, not to mention the zen state I achieve with a needle in my hand. [Oh my god my insides are going to fucking burst] At this point I have a list of about 10 things I know I can make and 1 or 2 that look really pretty in my head. [Sweet relief!] The list basically consists of things I would gladly make for myself (or already have) and those would just act as samples. I would gladly provide room for customizing in order to ensure maximum customer satisfaction, or one could just order items as shown. I'm kind of excited - not only could this potentally bring in some extra money, but it's something I really enjoy doing!

Right now it's all still an idea, but luckily I've remembered to take photographs of some of the better projects I've done.

I think I'll toast to success and prosperity with my next glass of water. Join me, won't you?

You can't sing But you still put me to sleep

At this moment I am alone in my house. Kind of. After 16 or so days of +100 degree weather, it is 1:30 pm and 86 degrees outside. Nice, huh? Well, it is for Texas in July anyway. SOOOO... I put sunscreen and bug spray on the kid and sent him and Izzy the Babysitter Dog out to play. I opened up the backdoor and opened the window in my art room overlooking the backyard. So I am painting (right now - waiting for paint to dry), keeping an eye on the kid in the fort out back, and watching "7th Heaven". Life couldn't get any better.

Every night we put The Joey to bed and every night 3 minutes after we've closed the door he calls for us because he swears he saw a monster. So we devised a story about why there are no monsters in the house. So The Joey knows we brought Izzy home from a shelter a long time ago. But what he didn't know... was that before Izzy was at the shelter she was a super dog monster hunter. And whenever there is a monster close, Izzy the Monster Hunter will spring into action and eat the monster up.

Amazingly, it works.

And my paint is dry.

Who knows, not me, I never lost control

So I had a conversation with The Husband last night about something that has bothered me for the past, oh, 10 years or so. And just let me preface this with a short story. Way back when - when the Husband was just That Guy I Want to Ask Me Out - and I learned that he was in the Air Force I had a conversation with my mother (I know; go fig). I was anti-all things Republican and conservative (still am) but I confused military personnel with military action. And she said that if I really liked this guy (still do) that I would have to learn to reconcile the fact that he's military with my strong oppositional views towards the things he's ordered to do, not asked to do. That being said, five years later I am a very proud military wife and support The Husband in his career. I also still drive the Obama-mobile on base....

Anyway, over the 4th of July holiday weekend all I kept hearing was to remember the troops fighting for our freedom overseas, remember the troops away from home protecting our rights, etc. After the 10 o'clock news I finally couldn't take it anymore and wanted to talk to The Husband to get his opinion and find out if what I thought was more my extreme leftist opinion than anything else. To my great surprise, he actually agreed with me: neither of us think it's correct to say that the military fights for our freedom or to protect our rights. The Husband says he can reconcile what people say over and over with the fact that the military fights for someone's freedom, and to protect someone's rights. But he said let's call a spade a spade and say "The military is in Afghanistan fighting terrorists." That's it. We don't discuss Iraq because the conversation ends with me losing it and going out on tangents and The Husband saying "I know! I know! I agree with you - why are you yelling at me?!" But I digress. The faction we are fighting in Afghanistan wants to kill us, not take away our rights or our freedom. Granted, I don't know everything, but I don't really think that the whole master plot of the attack on Pearl Harbor and the attacks of 2001 and the thwarted alleged attacks since were to invade the U.S., overthrow the government and remove all rights, privileges and freedoms actually fought for during the American Revolution. That's right people. I paid attention during American History....

For someone who gets labeled a socialist every four years or so, I sure do dislike nationalistic propaganda messages.

Don't break the heart that needs you

I may or may not have field mouse guts on my tires. I refuse to look. I'm almost halfway through The Bank Trip From Hell (it involves a 2 hour drive - one way) and I just want a nap. At least The Joey took one, although now he's bugging me every two minutes that he's hungry. Geez... kids are such babies.

Please belive me I'll never do you no harm

As if getting started on The Robot Room, planning the rearranging furniture throughout the house, thinking about having a garage sale, sewing a baby blanket and growing a baby were not enough... I got out some directions I printed ages ago about how to recover a couch. I don't know if this is nesting or just me going off the deep end but I feel the need to bury myself in so much craft crap I won't ever be able to finish. If only I could get paid to do this stuff....

Note that "planning" and "thinking" aren't actually things I'm acting on, but sometimes I feel like our household's personal think tank - I don't even bring things up to The Husband until I've gone through all the logistics and contingencies. Then he comes in to do the heavy lifting. I tell him he's the muscle of our little operation, and he tells me I'm the brains.

At least I know that I will never be bored during our forever together. Last night I made mention of the doctor's appointment I have this afternoon. I told him a month a go and several times since it's come up in casual conversation that we will be hearing the baby's heartbeat today and I wanted him and the Joey to come to the appointment with me so we could all hear it together. Well as we were brushing our teeth before bed last night The Husband makes some side comment about staying home with the Joey while I go to the doctor and I just about lose my glue, going on about how I've already told him about this important appointment and if he isn't going to be involved with the things going on in this pregnancy I don't want him to come and I'll bring the Joey by myself and he can just stay at work for all I care. So he gets me calmed down a little by admitting he can't help stupid and he should have remembered what was going on. So then he says, "I know what's going on" and I say "Oh really? What's going on?" thinking he was going to say something like "I forgot what you said a month ago and I'm really sorry." No - he says "I'm getting in trouble!" and I guess my face must have shot up into flames like you see in cartoons because his eyes got really big and he stammered "Word vomit! That's not what I meant to say! I couldn't stop myself!" And I burst out laughing. The combination of his face and the fact that I really believe him when he says he can't stop himself sometimes just equals that I can't ever stay mad at him. What can I say? I love that man....

I can't decide what to do this July 4th weekend. I'd like to go out and see some fireworks or something but I don't think that's going to be possible without boiling the baby. I also thought about us making the trip up North to the lake and the boat but I remembered the last time we were up there a few weeks ago and I was just plain miserable. The boat wouldn't stop moving! And yes, I do know that's kind of what they do but if you were in my position that day you wouldn't care either.

During a conversation with The Doctor last weekend I revealed a secret wish of mine. I want to be sent away for a long weekend to somewhere with spa packages. I walk in and they have a room ready for me. The specific spa package has already been chosen for me and the only decisions I have to make for the entire weekend is what I'm going to order off the room service menu - everything is already paid for. I can walk into my room and turn off my cell phone, there is no computer and I can turn off the ringer on the landline in the room. There's a huge soaking tub in front of a picture window with a view of a valley or mountains or the beach - anything so I can get lost in a bathtub my whole body can fit into. No one bothers me and I can sleep as late as I want, get hot stone massages and watch movies alone. Nice dream, huh?

I like to replay this little fantasy of mine on the rare occasion I get to take a bubble bath here at home. The last time was last week - can't remember the time before. But my bathtub is too small (my upper arms don't even get damp in our standard-sized bathtub/shower combo) and WWIII was going on downstairs, something about The Joey not cleaning up his toys and The Husband got angry because The Joey never does anything he says but everything I say. Peaceful relaxing bubble bath, right? So the dream was shot and I gave up and played Switzerland until The Joey started crying because he got scared at The Husband's "angry voices" and then I was all U.S. on The Husband (like that metaphor?) until he relented and The United Nations was formed.

Wait a second... either I took that metaphor too far or I just really confused myself. No matter - cardio!

Here we come, walking down the street

Everyone is sad Michael Jackson died and everything, but can we get back to regular "Good Morning America"? There's so much more going on in the world, and the devote two hours to Michael Jackson? I can understand MTV and VH1 playing tributes around the clock....

Speaking of - I was watching MTV this morning and was amazed to see Kurt Loder is STILL on! Isn't he like 60 or something?! Then I thought about a few other past vjs. Chris Connely is with ABC now doing grown-up work. But what I really want to know is what happened to Jessie. Do ya'll remember him? He was that super trippy dirty hippie vj. I loved him!

Right now I should be getting ready for the baby shower I'm going to in a few hours. Why should I be getting ready so early? Becuse I must also get Joey ready, pack him some movies and toys, then he'll be hungry for lunch despite the two eggs and bowl of cereal he had for breakfast (I know!), then The Doctor will probably be here to help and get us out the door and to another friends' house so Joey doesn't have to come with us. THEN we can finally be on our way to the shower. And where, you might ask, is The Husband? Well, despite the fact that I had been telling him for months the date of the shower, he failed to put two and two together that June 27th is at the end of the month JUST LIKE his drill weekend. And yet, just two weeks ago I brought it up in conversation and that it was also his drill weekend so yet again I was left scrambling for a sitter while he did nothing but be blissfully unaware of anything, as usual.

Whew. Okay. Deep breath. I know it's the crazy coming out and if I don't stop here I'll go into a tirade about how a 26 year old man should be able to keep track of his own commitments, especially if those commitments reoccur monthly for the past six or so years.

Besides, I have to go throw up and get in the shower.

And what she fittin' to have she don't know

One angry thing, and then off to the good things....

The Husband and I were watching the news yesterday afternoon and there were two incidents of parents leaving their children in cars while they shopped. People, it was over a hundred degrees yesterday, not to even estimate what temperature it was inside those cars. And in both incidents the parents were charged with endangering a child. Personally, I think there should be harsher charges. I believe that anyone not intellectually/developmentally challenged has to know that if you leave a kid in a car on a hot day, the kid gets hurt. So if you leave a kid in a car on a hot day you do so with the intent to harm the kid. Seriously.

Now off to fun and good things....

I did my own research online today concerning old wives' tales about pregnancy and gender prediction. I wanted to see if there was anything about spicy foods curing morning sickness. It's so weird, but when I feel really sick I have a pepperoncini and boom! all better. Here are a few of the best ones and what they say about me:

Pull down the skin under your left eye and look at your eyeball. If you see a vein that looks like a V or branches, you will be having a girl. Well, I ran to the bathroom to do this right away and... I have a perfect V vein!

Have the mother-to-be pick up a single key. If she picks it up by the round part it will be a boy. If she picks up the long narrow part it will be a girl. If she picks it up in the middle she is supposedly having twins. Well, I don't think I could subconsciously pick up a key without trying to get the narrow part. So I won't do that one.

Ask a child under the age of 5. Conveniently, I have one of those! So I asked him to tell me if Wheatie Wheat is a boy or a girl. He said girl, and he's been referencing to the baby as a girl for a long time now. However, he also really thinks we're going to name the child Wheatie Wheat.

If you crave sweets and/or healthy food, you're having a girl. If you crave meats and cheeses and/or salty unhealthy food, you're having a boy. I must say, I wanted hamburgers all the damn time with Joey. And I ate them, too! But with this pregnancy I've had this little problem with buying a ton of fruits and vegetables, more than we can eat. But it's all I want - raisin bran, double fiber bread, grapes, apples, water. Sprites and artificially sweet things kind of make me sick. However, I have to have dessert every night. An ice cream cone (anything other than natural vanilla bean gives me indigestion), chocolate pudding, rice crispy treats, etc. But only once a day do I want that.

If your hands start to get dry and chapped, it will be a boy; if your hands are softer now, it will be a girl. No chapped hands here!!!

If your feet get colder than they were before you got pregnant, you're having a boy. If your feet are the same or warmer than they were before you got pregnant, you're having a girl. I used to tuck my feet into the couch cushions or under The Husband's legs while he sat next to me or under the dog while she lay next to wherever I was. I have about 20 pairs of fuzzy house socks. I don't use anything anymore!!!

(Can you tell I'm getting more and more excited?)

If you are sick more and moody, it is a girl. I plead the fifth. But I'm sure The Husband and The Doctor will gladly tell you I am Exorcist nauseous and street rat crazy. Even Izzy the Wonder Dog hides under the table when I get going.

More acne means you're having a girl. Yeah... I love concealer.

A girl will "sap" her mother's beauty and energy. With Joey my hair grew, it was manageable, I had that whole glowing nice wonderful peaceful beauty thing going on (in my opinion, anyway). Well, with this pregnancy I can't do a thing with my hair except put it in a half-assed pony tail, it's not growing or shiny; in fact, it's frizzy and dry and awful. I've already stated my skin all over my body but mostly on my face/chest/arms is breaking out wicked-like and my face just always feels dirty no matter how much I wash it.

Pee in a glass or jar with a tablespoon of Drain-o in it. If the mixture turns green, it means girl. If the mixture turns blue, it means boy. I don't just have Drain-o lying around my house and I have no motivation whatsoever to go get some, nor to pee in a cup not provided to me by my doctor. So I have to pass on this one.

Hold a needle on a string above your open palm. If it moves in a circular motion, you will be having a girl. If it moves back and forth like a pendulum, you will have a boy. Hold on... CIRCLES!!!

If a toddler boy shows interest in a pregnant woman, she will have a girl. If he ignores the pregnant woman, she will have a boy. I have to say, he's very interested. He tells me to take my vitamins every day "so the baby will grow big and strong in your tummy!" And today he came up and held my hand and said "Mommy, I want to hold Wheatie Wheat. Can you take her out of your tummy?"

So, we have another 5 or so weeks until we can find out... but I'm pretty excited about what these old wives' tales have to tell me. Cross your fingers, people!

Well you know - we all want to change the world

Everytime I hear the first few lines of "Revolution" I think back to my freshman year when it was the motto for GDS and the Service Station would send out phone messages with it blaring off someone's stereo in the background. I had a special tradition for GDS: go as hung over as humanly possible. And every year I outdid the last! Hey, if you had to be anywhere at 7am on a Saturday in college you'd be hungover too - admit it.

I must have made a good case for more affordably priced boy dress clothes to the cosmos because I happened across a rad sale at Gymboree yesterday. Joey is now outfitted for several weeks of church and any number of emergency family occasions. If only we hadn't left his leather dress sandals on my in-laws' boat a couple of weekends ago....

I am on the hunt for affordable maternity clothes that don't look like circus tents. Mostly tops, since I have two Tummy Sleeves, one in white and one in black, that I wear with my jeans every day. However, I have a baby shower to go to this weekend and I'd like to look nicer than jeans and a t-shirt that fits like I'm just fat and not wearing my correct size (kind of a pet peeve of mine). Also, what the hell is the deal with maternity clothes that 80% of everything has to be sleeveless? I don't want to show off my arms, thank you - they are not my best asset. And that cardigans to then cover up the sleeveless-ness must be super expensive and hard to find? I have Kohl's, Ross, Old Navy, and Burlington on my list of places to go tomorrow but the shower is Saturday!

Not that anyone asked, but I'm feeling tons better. The debilitating vertigo-inducing nausea is all but gone! I must still nap sometimes twice a day and make sure I'm snacking or I may bite your head off instead, but I feel pretty good. It's a relief to me, anyway. And so far the only thing I crave is ice water. If someone can find some old wives' tale where craving ice water means you're having a girl it would be greatly appreciated.

You know, I'm not really ashamed of saying that we'll be a little disappointed if we don't have a girl this time around. Anyone who knows us knows that we love being parents and we will welcome any child into this world with love, compassion and warmth. But we want to add a little girl to our family! There's nothing wrong with that. But when people ask if we have a preference and we say a girl it's like there's a whole conversation that stems from that but is never said. And some people go ahead and say "Well healthy is all that matters," like that's not first in our hearts everyday for nine months and everyday thereafter for the rest of forever. It just bugs me that people take "We want a girl" to mean "We won't love a boy". We didn't get pregnant to have a girl, people. We got pregnant to have another baby.

And my dog needs a bath.

Part 2

So two things just happened.

1. I accidentally hit "Send". My deepest apologies.

2. I tripped a child at McDonald's and made her cry. Again, my most heartfelt apologies.

So back to what I was saying....

I have a bone to pick with the world of retail. Why is it near impossible to find affordable dress clothes for boys? I can't even find affordable ugly dress clothes for boys. Nada. I'm speaking to you, Wal-Mart and Target. Nothing. Apparently little boys have scant options: sports, licensed merchandise, cars, or tools. I was so pleased to see robots and monsters and superheroes at the beginning of Spring but even that is mostly gone. I want my son to look presentable in church. If we have a last-minute event to go to (as we did last week) I would love not to have to run out to stores like The Children's Place and have to spend $50 on dress pants, a shirt and a tie. Not that I have anything against The Children's Place. I go there for special occasion things multiple times a year. It's just that in a pinch and on a budget I can't spend that kind of money. And stores like Wal-Mart and Target are marketed and needed for the precise purpose of having a little bit of everything u
nder one roof. It makes me so mad to walk into the kids' sections and see row upon row and rack upon rack of girl clothes. The boys clothes usually take up about 5 racks and 2 rows and are of the aforementioned selection. This is the 21st century. Don't you think we can let go of some of these gender stereotypes, like that all little boys do is play and all little girls do is look pretty? Sure, I want a little girl and I look longingly at the clothes and baby sections, but I want to have the same experience with my son. It's not right not fair and it in general just pisses me off.

Have a nice day.

You're so 2000 and late

Well, maybe it's me. I just can't seem to keep it together here lately. How the hell am I supposed to take care of two kids? I'm beginning to wonder. Right now I'm sitting in hell (or McDonald's play area; I haven't decided yet) while Joey is off swinging his pitchfork (or climbing on the jungle gym; I haven't decided yet) while I tune and every other little demon ankle biting whine and poop machine out. I wonder if that makes me a bad parent....

I have a bone to

Where can you go....

So I'm sitting here waiting for my favorite show in the entire world to start. That's right, folks - "7th Heaven"! And what's even better, this afternoon's episode is the real last episode not the last episode of the craptastic eleventh season. Of course I will watch the craptastic eleventh season, but that's because I am a true fan.

I'm also trying something new and I hope it works out. If you can read this, I have emailed in my first post using my phone. It's so hard to be in the back room away from all the trouble Joey is getting into, so hopefully I will be able to post more often this way.

Now back to 7th Heaven. I remember the night I watched this episode. I was bawling my eyes out because I had either just had Joey or I was just about to and I chalked it up to hormones. I was so wrong. The show has been on for 5 minutes and I'm already tearing up. And I could blame it on hormones all over again, but I think it's the episode. They keep showing flashbacks! It's totally not my fault. I have the first 3 seasons on dvd and I MUST complete my collection. The Husband was great at surprising me with them, but I think he's forgotten how much I need them.

I think I'm done now. I have to watch this show and cry. And apparently wipe Joey's butt. And feel like I'm going to throw up.

I see you've got your list out, well say your piece and get out

I learned quite a sad thing during my trip to see my family last week. I no longer consider myself a Houstonian. Why, you might ask? 

1. I do not know where anything is. I used my GPS waaaay too much to delude myself into thinking I still know where stuff in the city I grew up in is. Example: I had to use the GPS to get from my parents' house to my sister's house. Sure, I've been there before, a few times, but did I know how to get there? Not a freaking clue. I must thank my sister, however, for being the best directions-giver EVER. I must not thank my mother for being the worst directions-giver ever. I heard this multiple times while driving "I just don't know... it's so different because I'm not driving...." Seriously? Being two feet left of behind the wheel makes so much of a difference that you suddenly don't know where you're going?

2. I can't drive in Houston anymore. I remember my driver's ed course, and The Husband is always astounded when I tell him the story of my first highway driving experience on 45. Granted, he probably learned to drive on dirt roads and one lane gravel drives (okay, I'm kidding but country highway is tons different from city highway). Anyway, I have learned to drive *gasp!* the speed limit. I had to remind myself of the fact that everyone in Houston drives at least 5 miles over, and that darting in and out of lanes of traffic without so much as an indication as to which way you're turning is acceptable. And in addition to the "directions" given by my mother sitting shotgun were sound effects in the form of sharp inhales, hand to the chest, wincing, eye closing, seat belt grabbing, and "watch out!"s. Let's not forget the "praise" given by my father that I can, in fact, cross from the right-most lane of a highway to the left-most for an exit.

3. Fuck the humidity. I don't think I need to explain it, but I will. I can't handle it anymore. I get zapped just walking out the door, like I walked through a waterfall of slime and it's all over my skin. I gave up on my hair - I just walked around like a fuzzball. Seriously - fuck the humidity.

And now for my tirade against Hobby Airport crossing guards at the Arrivals Pick Up Terminal:

You suck. You suck suck suck suck suck and have absolutely no purpose on this planet other than to wave your arm in one direction. THE STREET IS ONE WAY. I KNOW WHICH DIRECTION TO GO. If you're not waving your arm in one direction you put your hand up for me to stop. BECAUSE IF YOU DIDN'T I WOULDN'T SEE THE MASS OF PEOPLE CROSSING RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME AND I WOULD RUN THEM OVER. You stop me and ask me to roll down my window to ask me if I need help because I've been circling for half an hour. IF YOU WOULD LET ME STOP AND PARK AND WAIT FOR THE PEOPLE I NEED TO PICK UP (AND THEIR FLIGHT WAS LATE) THEN I WOULDN'T BE CIRCLING FOR HALF AN HOUR. 

And I had to pee.

There ain't no rest for the wicked

Multiple people have told me how having Joey changed me. I softened during my pregnancy, loving every moment of it and when I gave birth everything in my world changed. Ibecame this token of motherhood. I nurtured him even while he was in the womb, playing soft yet rockable music on my belly. And it has all paid off. Joey is beyond anything I could have expected out of a child, and I'm proud of the result - a kick-ass kid who (for the most part) behaves and is polite.

Why do I mention all of this? Well, today I was at lunch with Joey and the husband and we were talking about just stuff and things. I said, "You know, I think this pregnancy has really brought the..." "...Anita out in you?" he interrupted. Well, I was going to say "You know, I think this pregnancy has really brought out the bitch in me," but didn't want to teach Joey that word. So yes, I had to agree with him. 

See, I'm sick. Not just a little "ooh I don't feel well and isn't it pregnancy wonderful" sick; I'm talking about dizziness, nausea, vertigo, headaches and all-around weakness from sun up to sun down. It blows. And even worse, as much as I try not to, the husband winds up taking a lot of shit from me and does more than his fair share around here. It's not fair and I've told him so but he is Mr. Wonderful and makes sure I don't do too much and go to bed early and is okay with the mood swings provided I apologize after them, which I do.

Yesterday I woke up sick and had some cold canned peaches for breakfast before heading out to meet my trainer at the gym. He may have worked me a little too hard for such a light breakfast but I figured I would be fine to do the grocery shopping and go home. Wrong. I was trying on some swimsuits (we're going boating this weekend) and found out after I was done that they had "tummy control" which really means no bueno for pregnant ladies' sensitive stomachs. So that started me feeling ill in the store but I had to finish getting groceries. Then I get hungry. I figure I can make it, it's just a couple more things. Then I get dizzy and I just about lose my shit because I don't know if I'm going to make it to the car without passing out. Seriously. So I come around an aisle and everything gets a little woozy and I hiccup and almost lose what little breakfast I had but accidentally made an audible burp and this lady, her bleach job and her manicure all look up at me in disgust. I [of course] said "oops! Excuse me" to Joey and restrained myself from letting that lady know her disgusted look makes her injectible wrinkle filler shift and makes her look 10 years older so back the fuck off if she wanted to keep up the facade she was still in her early 30's.

We went to Sears this morning and took our first studio family portrait and I was really expecting an awesome experience. It was the same studio I took Joey to for his Easter photos and they came out so great. We had a really rad photographer that time; she really connected with Joey and got some great smiles out of him. The photographer we had today, however, was a total amateur in comparison. She put us in such contrived and cheesy poses I at one point looked at her after she directed me to lay on my stomach, rest on my elbows and put my chin in my palms and said "I'm not doing that." Maybe that made her nervous and maybe not, but Joey smelled fear or weakness or a combination and was undirectable during the whole thing. The husband kept jumping in and trying to control him, only further confusing him. When the photographer tried to pose Joey to take a photo from above and was trying to get him to smile sweetly he put up his rock hands and said very plainly and in a monotone: "whoo." Yeah, we bought that picture.

So we're waiting to view the pictures and this chick has no fucking clue what she's doing because she kept calling another chick in to help her with the computer. I am sitting there just waiting and waiting, thinking about the poses I would have her do in case the ones she took really sucked and we had to do the whole thing over again. I was about to go and say something when she comes in nonchalantly apologizing for how long it took. I didn't say anything - she obviously knew it took fucking forever and I wasn't going to make her feel better for wasting my time. I was right - a lot of the pictures sucked and reeked of cheese. But we found a few we liked and even I was happy with the ones we wound up with.

As we were leaving the mall we decided to stop and have some lunch before we went home and the husband had to go to work (yes, on a Saturday). Which brings us back to the conversation that this pregnancy has brought out the, well... the Anita in me. Haven't you missed her? I am back. I will turn my nose up at you if you are obviously not wearing pants your own size. I will scowl at your dirty unbehaved heathen children. And I will definitely make sure I get what I know is right, fair, and (most importantly) what I want. So watch out world, the bitch is back and she fucking means it.

Isn't pregnancy wonderful?

A seven nation army couldn't hold me back

I want to throw up on your face right now.

Please don't take it personally, it's just the state of normalcy around here. I feel like shit. Then I nap, and 80% of the time I don't feel like shit for at least 3 hours following said nap. Then it starts all over again.

So this past Friday was a beautiful day here in Fort Worth: sunny, hot, not too many clouds in the sky, a little wind. I was running errands near the base and I saw this line of smoke coming from a plane that... oh my gosh... was heading straight for the ground. Like, no control nose down vertical falling to the ground. But nothing happened, and I didn't see the plane anymore. I went into the craft store and saw a huge poster for a free airshow on Saturday at the base. Duh! They were just practicing!!! So I call the husband and he's been watching them practice all day and we talk about going, but I have more errands to run and the discussion is tabled until he gets home. I took Joey to get his hair cut and while we're waiting in the reception area I hear this BOOM-whoosh! sound and then this weird feeling like everything in the salon (including the windows) bowed inward and then returned to normal. Turns out they were flying the F-18 and getting it to the fine line right before breaking the sound barrier and they must have pushed a little too hard because what I heard and felt was a sonic boom.

So we're all set to go see the airshow and then overnight... the rain came. And didn't leave. So we're constantly checking the website and we go get Joey a raincoat (but not rainboots because we obviously weren't taking into consideration that when rain falls it makes puddles and will soak right through Converse and socks) and an umbrella and headed out to the base. We got to look in a bunch of planes, and put Joey in a few. It was pretty cool. We got to go in the plane that the husband works on for the Air Force, the kind he rides all over the world in. Let me just tell you - it's not even remotely comfortable looking. There's wires and stuff all over the ceiling and walls, the seats fold down from the perimeter, and then all the gear goes in the middle. And it's so loud, he says, you have to wear ear protection when you ride it. I can't even imagine.... Then again, I go green even driving into an airport. If I have to fly somewhere I have white knuckles the entire time (they went numb when I flew non-stop to New York) and I'm grey when I get off the plane. So not only am I proud of my husband's service, I think he should get a gold star sticker for surviving those flight conditions.

Anyway, we were really unsure if we were going to see airplanes fly that day, but the sky cleared up a little and we got a totally super awesome rad show. The Doctor lent Joey her ear protector headphones (I don't really know why she had them in the first place) so when the F-16 and F-18 started flying Joey looked super cool. There were stunt flyers, a biplane, a B-52 flew over (8 engines!) - it was really cool. Joey even kind of paid attention, too. The F-18 did that thing like the day before, and right before a sonic boom the entire plane gets enveloped in this weird bubble thing. It was so cool.

So towards the end of the show Joey has to go to the bathroom. All they had was... porta-potties. Thankfully the husband took him in one hand and hand sanitizer in the other. Ugh. So they're gone for a little while and when they come back Joey has a gigantic hot dog in his hand, holding his daddy's hand and hopping along looking like the happiest kid in the world. It was enough to almost move me to tears. Turns out the hot dog stand was closing and had six hot dogs left so they gave one to Joey. It wasn't even a hot dog, really. It was a whole sausage link on a huge bun. He was so happy with it, though. So the show ended and we were walking back to the car and he's just chowing down. He finished it and was talking to us about the planes and then he stopped and held out his hands and looked around and said "Hey! Where's my food?!" In all seriousness, he had forgotten that he already finished it and thought we had heinously taken it from him. The husband said "You finished it, buddy. You ate the whole thing." And Joey almost fell apart. Poor kid, we were laughing so hard and all he wanted was his hot dog back.

It's been a long time since the party and the room is in a mess

I tried. I tried so hard. I even set my alarm last night. For 7 am. I was going to hop out of bed, put on my gym clothes, make some breakfast and head out to the gym.

At 8:30 I had already hit the snooze button so many times, and when the alarm went off the last time Joey was in the room and yelled "That really hurts my ears! Get up!" So I told him to leave the room so I could get dressed and to go get himself dressed. He won and stood at the bottom of the stairs for 10 minutes yelling "Are you dressed yet?" every couple of seconds. It wasn't my fault - I couldn't find the gym pants I like. I have 3 pairs of them, and it turns out every single one of them was in the dirty laundry. So I put on my B Team workout clothes and was absolutely displeased with the image looking back at me in the mirror (read: I looked like a fatass in the pants). I could in no way rally myself to want to go out in public looking like that, so I decided to stay home and do the laundry. Sure... that counts as a workout.

So I'm totally involved yesterday's "Oprah" while waiting for a load to finish drying when I realize I have lost my son. It's not a big house, and I hear some rustling in the bathroom so I figure he's doing his business in there. 10 or so minutes later I realize I have lost my son again and still hear rustling in the bathroom so I ask him what he's doing in there. "Well... I'm just coloring." Coloring? Really? Oh....

See, the husband and I bought Joey some soap crayons for his Easter basket this year and he absolutely loves them. He asked me earlier today if he could play with them, and I told him those are for only when he's in the bathtub.

So I walk into his bathroom and I'm about to get angry. He got the colors and colored all over one of the walls of his shower. But then I stopped. He was in the bathtub, after all.

Meet me in the crowd

So I went to the doctor's office yesterday and apparently I have super-human powers of knowing when I'm pregnant (this time, anyway). Apparently I am 4.6 weeks, and I had known for 2 and a half weeks. The math doesn't lie, people - I'm a mutant. My other mutant power is randomly knowing what time it is. It really freaks the husband out.

While I was filling out my new patient paperwork in the reception lobby at the doctor's office this HUGE lady came in with this pod-child zombie boy. That means he was connected to an ipod or some other thing like it, with his head buried in it responding to the nudges of his mother (?) as directions of where to go. This lady was on her phone talking so loud about somebody trying to get someone else's parental rights terminated and why. I was really relieved that I hadn't missed my daily quota of trash tv, except this time it wasn't on tv. Then the pod-child zombie boy started singing along with whatever thing he was plugged into, and kicking the chair to the beat. Unfortunately he and I were sitting back to back and as a result I wanted to throttle him.

And now for your robot room update:

We have a finalized quilt pattern! And I have been persuaded to join a quilt group to help me through what is sure to be a trying process. Next week (should I make it) we will be calculating how much fabric I will need for the whole thing.  Very exciting, I know. I need to work on my mother's Mother's Day present, as I will be seeing her in about a week and a half.

Hey - what the hell is the deal with taking pictures of yourself? I have to just touch on this for a second because it makes no freaking sense to me, and kind of angers me - which means I have to tell a story to make you understand why it angers me. So the husband's friends came over for his birthday this year and I was like, ugh... okay. Their insular-ness is more than aggravating and genuinely distasteful. Really puts me off and I don't really like the time I spend with them but I give at least 80% for the husband's sake. Anyway, we ran out of beer at said party so I went to Wal-Mart to grab some more. When I came back and was looking through my camera for photos to delete so I could take more without uploading to the computer first, I saw a bunch of pictures taken by the subject and the subject's friends. On my camera. So now I have photos of people I don't really like taking up a ton of my camera space. So of course these people happen to be on facebook and such and there's like a million of these type of photos of themselves! I can't help but laugh about it (at them, of course) because it's just so vain and, well, silly. You can't take pictures of anything  else but yourself and the same 5 people? Whatever.

And for fairness' sake, I took the picture on my profile myself. So maybe I know nothing.

They call me hell

Happy late Mother's Day to those of you who should be receiving a Happy Mother's Day. And if you should be receiving a Happy Mother's Day wish, then you also know about the great mystery that is "Baby Brain" - you know, when you have no idea how you could have gotten into college, nevermind graduating because you can't keep a damn thought in your head for more than 2 minutes. And you go downstairs and realize you forgot something upstairs so you go upstairs but by then you've forgotten what you forgot so you go back downstairs and the whole thing starts over again. I forgot I have a blog! Okay not exactly, but I would remind myself to get online and post and then forget that I reminded myself.

I am so glad my new brain came in the mail. Now I just need to figure out how to use it.... I am totally relying on my Palm Centro to get me through this pregnancy - I got it to replace my old Palm Not A Phone Too, which I have misplaced and have absolutely no clue where it could possibly be.

Going to the doctor tomorrow.... Normally I would not be excited for what is in store for me there, but I get to find out I'm pregnant! I actually can't believe it and was worried I may have just made the whole thing up. So 5 days after the first positive test I was out doing the grocery shopping and picked up another test. That thing turned into a little positive sign the second the pee hit it, I swear. Turns out I'm pregnant!

As if my 5 year college reunion weren't enough motivation to stay healthy during this pregnancy and hopefully off of bed rest like I had last time, I'm going to see Pink and the Ting Tings in September when I should be roughly 6 or so months pregnant. The Doctor got the tickets yesterday and I am so rad for September!

You're asking me will my love grow

Since I know the readers of this blog are my closest and dearest friends, I've decided to make this a very special one. Remember back in the day when "Blossom" was on tv, and the previews always began "This week, on a very special Blossom..."? But I digress.

I'm pregnant!

I haven't been to the doctor yet or anything, but I have an appointment for this Tuesday. I have known for about 3 weeks, but the tests I took once a week kept reading negative. But I was sick and couldn't stand to have the husband within my personal space and had these headaches that all kept pointing in one direction: BabyTime. So we went up north for the weekend and I was all sorts of miserable. Finally my every ounce of happiness depended on Homestyle popcorn and ginger ale and the husband complied, of course. When we got home that night I decided to take one more test and it came up positive!!!!! So I ran down the stairs and the husband just knew what I was going to say... or maybe it was the pee stick I was holding in front of his face. Either way, we did a super happy dance which mainly involved hugging. I had to run out to the store because my every ounce of happiness depended on sweet and sour sauce for my egg rolls. So I called Big Sister and told her because I had to tell SOMEONE.

We told my parents first - they are ecstatic! Then we told the husband's parents, and now I'm telling you! Right now, my absolute happiness depends on a salad with chicken, pasta, spinach, feta cheese, and balsalmic vinegarette. So I've got to run. But the reason I haven't been posting with regularity is most everything is baby-themed right now and I didn't know when to tell people. But I couldn't keep it in any longer. That and my mother in law told everyone she knows so it's not a secret anymore.

We get the funniest looks from everyone we meet

Since he was a baby, Joey has been able to sleep through just about anything. We had multiple parties while he was newborn in our little apartment, a few more at our old house and he'd just snooze like nothing was going on. I am totally the same way - a heavy hard sleeper and don't even try and wake me up because I will come at you like something out of a horror movie. I'm not even a zombie until I've been "awake" for 10 minutes.

Anyway, early this morning after the husband went to work Joey let me know he peed in his bed and jammies. I told him to change his clothes and then come upstairs. He did so and actually fell back asleep which was good because I wasn't getting out of bed until my alarm rang in an hour and 15 minutes. So when it did ring I of course slapped the snooze button and glanced over at him - and he was still fast asleep. Didn't even stir.

My alarm used to have a nickname in college, given to me by my roommates. It was called The Louder Than Fuck Alarm. It has this "LOUD" setting that might actually raise the dead (further testing is needed) but couldn't rouse me from my sleep. And I'm talking about completely sober mornings, too. It still can't get me out of bed unless I implicitly have something to do in the morning.

So I needed to get Joey up and going because I was amused enough by him sleeping through the alarm to be awake and then I noted that I was hungry. I thought it would be a treat to turn on PBS and watch Sesame Street for a few minutes until he was awake. I pressed the "ON" button on the remote and the electric hum of the tv turning on got the kid to sit straight up in the bed from a dead sleep and he said/mumbled "Can I watch cartoons?"

Well it's time to begin as the summer sets in

After getting home from a great weekend with the inlaws, I got an envelope in the mail with the coolest fabric samples in it! Yay Big Sister! This stuff is awesome, and I can't wait to get started on what's sure to be the Great Robot Room Debacle. But no worries; it will turn into The Coolest Thing I've Done to Date right at the last minute. Then I'll have to think of The Next Coolest Thing to do; I'm already scheming, and I'm sure you will all be surprised and then jealous of my coolness.

Wouldn't it be totally rad to have a room full of toys? Just toys - shelves and drawers full of toys, a table to play with above mentioned toys on, a play kitchen and all sorts of play food, an entire bookshelf of books, a colorful rug, and a fun pillow shaped like a turtle to lay on. For some reason unbeknownst to the husband and myself, Joey refuses to play in his playroom! We tell him to go play there, and he screams like we told him to get Daddy's pliers and pull out his big toenail on his left foot (I know, I've told him to do the latter before and it's totally the same scream).

I'm so over it. I could turn that room into a future nursery or something and save myself the aggravation of a JoeyFit. I suppose that a lot of it has to do with how we had our old house set up; most of the toys were on a shelf in the living room and whatever wasn't was in his room. And we had no problem with him bringing the toys from his room to the living room. I was a single parent back then and it was easiest to keep him near me in the front of the house while I did whatever I had to do. But now I set aside a special area just for him to help contain the mess and he treats it like a cell in Sing Sing.

I've even considered going to a dark dark evil place: putting a tv and DVD player in the playroom. There I could research and develop my own special brand of zombie and start calling him The 3 Year Old Undead Wonder. I can totally see it now: him sitting on his knees with his arms lax at his sides, his head turned all the way up resting on the back of his neck, eyes open wide and his mouth open wider. I'd say "Joey?" and he'd grunt at me. I'd turn off the tv and he'd attack me with all the viciousness of a flesh-eating undead.

Remove the head!!!!!

Some, some, some I, some I murder - some I, some I let go

me: So I've been working out a lot at the gym

husband: Yeah, I know. I'm really proud of you

me: Well, I'm a little discouraged. I don't know if it's working. Do you see any difference in the way I look?

husband: [long, long, desperate pause] Would you be upset if I said no?

me: A little bit.

husband: I'm kind of... you know I'm no good at... um... can I just buy you some jewelry?

But I met with my trainer for my monthly assessment, and everything is okay and he told me not to get discouraged; we're getting there. So I'll still be working on my Michelle Obama arms....

I had a proud mother moment this afternoon while listening to the "Across the Universe" soundtrack. My son loves to sing "Strawberry Fields Forever"! So proud... *tear*.....

Sorry for such a short post today. It's time to be Mary Fucking Sunshine the Happy Homemaker and get some laundry and cleaning done before we take our trip North tomorrow.

And we could do the tango, wherever we go

I did a little research today on Mom groups here in Fort Worth, thinking it might be the best way to get out and meet new people and make some friends for Joey. And there's not all that much in my area. There's a lot in Yuppyville areas, but I'm not interested in trading in my Ramones for Kenny Chesney. Anyway, I'll keep my eyes open online for "cool people" Mom groups.

We're heading North for the weekend and apparently there is to be a social gathering of the husband's friends. And that's about all I have to say on that.

Thinking about going to Houston at the end of May. Little Brother is graduating middle school! It might be nice to go see some fun stuff too, like this. I'm sure Joey would love to see some dinosaurs, too. 

Not that the little beast deserves to go anywhere fun; yesterday I went out to the store for a few things and he wanted a new toy. So I decided to get him the game Memory but he didn't want it. He wanted a "big boy toy" - you know, Mom, like HotWheels! I said no. He could have Memory, but if he didn't want Memory he could have nothing. He took too long (like 5 minutes) to decide, and in the end he didn't get anything. But he sure screamed all the way out of the store, into the car, and all the way home! Now before you call me Bad Mommy come over to my house and check out his playroom - yes, a whole room devoted to Joey's toys. This kid has SO many toys he has no idea what to do with them, for real. I have seen him take out a bunch of toys and then jump around all anxiety-ridden because he doesn't know which one to play with. I would personally love to get rid of all of them save the books, HotWheels and anything educational. But the husband won't let me. So please, don't get my kid toys. Get him a book.

Or Memory.

He's had a rough couple of days with staying out of Mommy's hair. I'm sure it's my fault, but by the end of the day I am absolutely zapped of energy and pissed off with a headache. Then when the husband gets home the kid screams and yells and jumps, the dog is running around crazy taking out everything in her path and I want nothing to do with any of them. But this morning we had a pretty good time. We ate breakfast and I started some laundry and then Joey came up to me and said he wanted a snack.  This is how it went:

joey: Mommy, can I have a snack?

me: How do you ask for a snack?

joey: Can I have a snack please?

me: Sure. What would you like for snack?

joey: Poop.

me: I'm sure I didn't hear you right. What do you want for snack?

joey: Poop.

me: Little boys don't eat poop for snack.

joey: Then can I have fruit snacks?

me: Sure.

joey: And we can have puppy for dinner?

You don't have to admit you wanna play

I was watching "Good Morning America" this morning and heard an awesome story. Apparently this mom kicked her 10 & 12 year old daughters out of the car for fighting. One girl just went home, but the other one got noticed by a bystander and the bystander called police. Then the mom was arrested!

Okay: one time my mom kicked me and Big Sister out of the house and locked the door for pretty much the same thing. Then it started raining. And she wouldn't unlock the door. We didn't have a porch, people; we got rained on. I gotta say, now I would probably have done the same thing. Or at least send the one causing all the problems out (which, of course, could never have been me). Sometimes you have to get creative. Like that time I told Joey that monsters would come out of the floor at McDonald's and bite his toes off one by one if he didn't stay put for the minute and a half it took for us to get our order from behind the counter. Sure - he looked at me with huge eyes of fear, but he stayed put.

And I guess I should warn you all now, since the last time I didn't post I got a couple of demands for an update - I'm going out of town this weekend. So hold your breath - I'll be right back.

Pay no more mind to what you think you've seen

I have a wisdom tooth coming through. It doesn't so much hurt as really fucking bothers me.

So last night after dinner it was REALLY fucking bothering me so I told Trey I thought more of it was coming through and asked him to feel it himself. He said no that's gross but did it anyway because I have the mad persuasion skills. Really, though, he jabbed his arm out and into my mouth - pretty much finger punching me in the back of the throat. It seems I had forgotten that he had two beers at the end of drill, then come home and had two glasses of wine with me. And then there were two things in my mouth that really fucking bothered me.

I had a dream last night that Sarah Palin wanted to borrow my shoes.

Spinning on that dizzy edge

So bored. So, so, so bored.

The husband has his drill this weekend so while he's at the base I'm just kinda here. I cleaned yesterday and I'm sure there's more to be done, but I'm too bored to do it. Same with the art - too bored to do anything. I'll bet it has something to do with the weather - it's rainy and gloomy and muggy and windy and I just want to curl up on the couch and doze off. Which I've already done, but I'm still bored.

Of course, in the time it took for me to type the last two paragraphs Joey has gotten up on the couch and fallen off, knocking over my filled-to-capacity embroidery thread box. I have to have at least 100 different colors in there. So at least now I have something to do... but instead I'm sitting right here in front of the computer. If Trey gets home before I get around to cleaning up the mess I'll just say I was leaving it there for him to see because it made me SO mad I couldn't bear to do it right away. Works every time....

So I've been thinking of all the nontraditional jobs I could do to bring in some money. I only need about $200 a week (post taxes) to make a difference; more if it were to mean I'd need to put Joey in daycare. But if I could work overnight somewhere I wouldn't have to worry about that. How cool would that be - working overnight doing something completely nontraditional? Talk about life experience.... I'm a night person anyway, sometimes to a fault. Those are the night/mornings when I'm still up at 3:30, 4 o'clock in the morning, just because. Or if someone just wants to hand me $200 bucks a week for being me - that would be pretty cool, too. I'm pretty damn good at just being me.

I cannot wait to receive a special package in the mail from New York City. Big Sister is sending me a GREAT fabric sample (from SoHo, no less!) for Joey's robot room quilt. I think I may be nesting - although is it possible to nest before one gets pregnant? Anyway, I want to get on this Robot Room right away, even though I have never quilted before or designed a room from scratch. Let's all just say a little prayer: "Dear lord of the sewing machine, paint brushes, and all things crafty - we're gathered here today to beg your blessing of the Robot Room Project. Many drops of blood, tears of frustration, and curse words will be sacrificed to you during the completion of this undertaking. Please forgive me, for I know not at all what I'm doing."

Come on, even the real God has to have a sense of humor.

I've got soul but I'm not a soldier

I scared a baby today.

It was awesome.

I've been thinking about the fact that I don't like kids, and how that plays into the fact that I am a mother and more of my friends are becoming parents. I don't really think it's that I don't like kids - I don't like parents. And not necessarily all parents - I don't like parents who don't parent their kids. You know the kind of parents I'm talking about; they let their kids "try the grapes" at the grocery store, they let their kids act like demons on crack at McDonalds and push little kids and run past them without so much as an "excuse me", etc.

I took Joey to the zoo last week and couldn't take 10 steps without seeing an example of children being nonparented or parents nonparenting their children. Just because you are in the confined general area of "The Zoo" does not mean you may let your heathens run amok and dart in and out and around other people, especially those pulling wagons or pushing strollers. Teach your kids to wait their turn and not push aside the 3 year old who merely wants to glance at the animal before moving on. Hold your kid's hand, which will unfortunately mean you'll have to put down your cell phone. I promise, it will be okay.

I like the parents who hold the door open for the lady pulling the wagon and wearing the obligatory backpack full of her kid's crap (that's me!). And the mom who tells her kids to make room for Joey so he can see the monkeys too. And the mom who saw some future juvenile delinquents push Joey out of the way while he tried feed a parakeet, then made room for him to feed the one her daughter was playing with.

I want to know where all the nice parents hang out - art fairs, environmental rallies, outdoor music festivals - and go there. Our kids will play barefoot in a field of flowers free of pesticides, and we'll have an organic picnic wearing dye-free linen. One of the dads will pull out a guitar and we'll teach our children songs like "The Rainbow Connection" while the moms braid daisy chain crowns. As the sun sets we'll pack up our hybrids and know we left our field of hope and dreams as clean as we found it.

*sigh*

Can your kid at least not push my kid?

Best. Prayer. Ever.

Nukka is in a new home.

And she bit my ear.

Amen.

When you smile it is like a song

Ladies and gentlemen... we have robots! Mr. Y is going to be changing colors to a dark midnight navy blue, but I think you can get the idea. I just had to share the fact that I made the decision to skip the gym this morning to sit down and color robots. Now I'm working out the math of a quilt in my head which means I'll have a headache in about an hour.

I think Izzy the Princess Dog is upset with me for turning off the air conditioner. I just checked the thermometer and it's allegedly 95 degrees outside, although it feels slightly cooler than the devil's asshole in the house. But hey, we all need to do our part and it's Earth Day for goodness' sake. Also, and this is motivation number one, I was able to lower our electric bill for last month by about 70 bucks by turning off the air conditioner so in my opinion cool air can just suck it.

I believe in snow cones.

Now everything is cool as long as I'm getting thinner

I need robots.

No, not to do my laundry and clean my floors and cook my meals (although wouldn't that be the coolest thing EVER?). I need robots to model for me so I can paint them and sew them and put them in Joey's room. OR... I need robots to come live in Joey's room so he can finally have the robot room he's been asking for since before we moved 5 months ago.

Back in our old house he had the cutest room. I dreamed it up after a trip to Pottery Barn kids to register for his nursery bedding - Moons & Stars. However, 5 months was not enough time for The Sisters to acquire said nursery bedding and it was discontinued. A fact I still have issue with and I hope someday they have the pleasure of going through books and catalogs to find the perfect nursery bedding then have the picture playing in their heads for 9 months ripped right out of their super-pregnant high-octane hormonal hands, resulting in permanent trauma. But really, it's fine...

Anyway, Joey's room in our old house was fantastic. It was pale yellow for the upper half of the wall, then pale blue for the lower half. Where the two met there was a thick white stripe and in the white stripe was a very thin pale green stripe. His furniture is natural wood color and white, and it was a beautiful bright room at any given time of day - a perfect little boy's room. So to help ease the transition between the houses I talked to Joey about what his new room would be, and he had just seen WALL-E and wanted robots. But his slacker mother has been too "busy" to make this all happen. You know, cleaning, cooking, unpacking, looking for a job.... But since we've decided to wait this whole silly recession thing out and make babies I've decided to commit some time to my little boy's new and improved Robot Room.

But not just any robots are fit for the Robot Room. I want old school robots. Like back in the 1950's, when people were obsessed with alien robots from outer space and communists. I want communist robots in my son's room. Gotta love Cold War culture. I thought I might find some web images to work from, but that would be wrong. I've been looking at Amazon because if I have to buy a book to work from I think it would be worth it, but still nothing. I may have to go into a book store (gasp!) and look at books to make sure I get a good one with plenty to work from. And don't even get me started on the library where I live and why I can't use the huge central Fort Worth one downtown....

I just want some good, old-fashioned communist robots!

Lynchburg Lemonade, anyone?

Is 3 years old too young to let a child play outside in a fenced backyard unattended? I leave the door open and never go further than the living room. Also, I send out Izzy the Guard Dog with him; she is very protective of Joey and would definitely alert me if someone was coming. I really think it's okay and am confident in my furry alarm system.

Guess what I just found out? My brother-in-law is coming home this week from overseas for some R&R! Totally excited. Guess what else? My husband has to do National Guard duty this weekend and won't be able to join us on our trip to go see him. Doesn't that suck?

Man, we used to have some good times when my husband and I were dating. I lived in the sorority house and my eventual husband would come and stay for days at a time and when we had parties his brother would come, and man was that kid wild! The Doctor used to mix him whiskey sours to his heart's content and one time he got up off the couch to head to the bathroom, took two steps down the hallway and fell flat on his face. Ah, the good old days of binge drinking and reckless behavior sanctioned by uniform Greek letters sewn across our chests....

I do miss it, though. I think sometimes I wasn't ready to stop partying and everything when I had to. I wanted to live alone, live up my 20's, be fabulous and not worry about anything. Travel, be social, dance and shop. But then I think that if I had been able to do all that I wouldn't have everything that surrounds me right now; a wonderful loving husband, a beyond cute kid, and the best dog ever created. So I'll just forget about what could have been and relish every moment of what is. And this October at my 5 year college reunion I'll slap those letters back on my chest and live it up.

Have a safe trip, Uncle Oompa Loompa!

Whip it good

Let's just begin with this: I had a fucking blast last night.

The Doctor and I went to a drag show and it was really quite awesome. I know I'm a short person living in a tall world, but when you add 3-inch heels it's just not fair. It was like "Attack of the 50 Foot Woman" in there - big hair, short skirts, stacked heels and me feeling an ant about to get squashed under the blinking star lights.

The show began with a Miley Cyrus song. Seriously? Of all the songs anyone had to choose from - Miley Cyrus? For real? I don't care if she sounds like Bea Arthur from Tennessee, she's not a real musician and she's like 12 years old. However, all thoughts of Miss Miley left my mind the moment the entertainer kicked her leg in the air and pointed her toe. Damn!

The show was just awesome. I think I may want to be a drag queen when I grow up. It could be a legitimate reason to own a bedazzler from what I saw last night. Once I was watching tv with my husband and a commercial came on and I got this great idea that with a bedazzler I could pierce my dog's ears. Now he won't let me get one even though I promised Izzy the Wonder Dog is in no danger whatsoever.

Apparently when it is your birthday at this bar the emcee for the evening will whip you with a belt. The oh-so-lucky birthday boy was sitting just behind me and The Doctor, so when he went up to get his whuppin he bent over like all the way and she let him have it... twice. I wondered if he had to sign a waiver for that when he got back to his table and was telling his friends "He hit my balls!"

I witnessed a gay stampede! Seriously, you too can view this fascinating event. The second the dj started playing a certain song, the dance square was packed. Then I realized they were all lining up... then they were all moving at the same time... it was a fabulous line dance! Apparently it's the newest thing all the kiddies are doing right now and it's called the "Cupid Shuffle".

Yeah, I know - I'm old. Whatever.

S-A-TUR-DAY

I went to a function with my best friend The Doctor today for her med school, a family fun fest kind of thing. Joey ran all over a playground then wanted to go to the bounce house. It was a SpongeBob Squarepants themed bounce house, which made me want to turn the other way immediately. [We don't disapprove of S.B.S.P. for any political, religious, or other absurd reason; we just think it is the most annoying cartoon ever and will do nothing but rot our son's brain. So we let him watch Spiderman, Batman, Looney Tunes, etc. - you know, the good stuff] He got into the bouncehouse and after a few minutes laid down in the middle and just chilled there, on his stomach, like he had just run a mile. So The Doctor and I would say, "Are you done?" mostly because we were hungry and bored and Joey would say "Not yet!" and get up and bounce. So we started asking him every time he would pause to catch his breathe, thus tiring him out enough to hopefully take a nap.

I decided right then and there I would be that mother that would buy a bounce house to be used 10 minutes a day if it meant I was allowed at least an hour of peace and quiet of Joey's Nap Time.

Unfortunately, there was not going to be a nap. I mourn the days when there would be silence in the house and Izzy the Ninja Dog and I would curl up on the couch and read or watch tv almost on mute with the captions on so as not to disrupt the sanctity of Nap Time. I could paint my nails or pluck my eyebrows or take a shower knowing that my son was in no way going to disturb me. Sometimes I, too, would fall asleep - a blessed respite in the middle of the day gearing me up for the apocalypse of a newly awake child once Nap Time was complete.

We've tried to change the name to "Quiet Time" - wherein Joey takes a book or two to his bedroom with the curtains drawn and soft music playing. The semantics approach worked for possibly a week. I can't remember due to exhaustion. Everyday during lunch he now makes it a point to tell me "I don't need to do Quiet Time today" like I don't know that if I tried to convince him otherwise there surely would be hell to pay on my part.

Have you ever seen that episode of The Twilight Zone where the kid Anthony can make horrible things happen so everyone in the town kisses his ass by telling him he "did a good thing"? Sometimes I think that's how we deal with him. Sure, he gets his time outs and spankings and overall he is a very well-behaved and well-mannered 3 year old, but at times the need to placate the crap out of him just to get a period of time without a meltdown tires me. He is such an only child, I can't wait to see what he'll do when we bring another kid into the house.

In the grown up world having nothing to do with children, I am crossing a threshold this evening. I am going to my first gay bar AND drag show! I am beyond excited and have been thinking about what to wear all day. It's not like I'm dressing to impress the ladies or anything; no, I am preparing for a much more critical audience - the gay man. Apparently the drag queens will think I am faboosh for wearing my face paint from earlier this afternoon but I don't know that I can bring myself to go out in public with it on. Making the decision to go out in public with face paint on is much different from going out in public having forgotten you have face paint on, as I've been doing all day. To the movie theatre, to the grocery store - TOTALLY forgot I had my face painted.

Off to a beautiful night of Madonna, sequins and eyelashes... the stuff dreams are made of.

The Baby Fever

For my first post in what I hope is a long relationship with this blog, I am going to put something out into the universe. It's crazy, it's nonsensical, it's kind of like a unicorn...

I want another baby.

Not just kinda want, thinking about it and all the extra sexy time I'll get to spend with my husband - I REALLY want another baby. I crave the swollen ankles, the sleepless nights, the always sickness (because I refuse to say "morning"), every gross part of pregnancy. I'm so down with it. I was on bedrest for about half of my first pregnancy, and if I had to do it with a second I would even handle that with all the grace I could muster.

Okay... probably not. I would bitch and moan the whole time, but I would do it. That counts, right?

This is not a new notion in my household. We were a little ahead of the curve with our son in relation to our friends (read: he was a surprise), but now it seems like everyone we know is having kids. So we've been talking about it for a while and now we really think we're ready. After visiting my friends from college and their newborn daughter and infant son, after having held aforementioned newborn, my husband comes up to me and says real smooth-like, "I want another baby." And he looked too cute, how could I say no? We discussed it at length and decided it was time to start trying. That was about 3 months ago and so far, no baby. But it sure is fun trying! I've been excited, I had the itch to get pregnant and give my son a sibling but until today I have not had the fever that hit me like a ton of bricks while shopping. I think the story actually begins the day before yesterday....

My son woke me up completely naked. Him, not me. Turns out he had an accident in the early morning, after my husband left for work at 5-something. I asked him what the deal was and he said "Well...." I want to pause here a moment and let you know that if you ever ask my son something and he starts with "Well..." you might as well sit down and get ready to pee in your pants laughing. Which usually makes him cry (you laughing, not you peeing in your pants), but it's worth it. Anyway, he said "Well... I peed in my drawers and I told my dad but he didn't say nothing." So I led him downstairs to get him dressed, get him breakfast, and head to the gym before the rest of our day started. Not so. He had no clean underwear, which is why he was chilling out naked in my bed at 7 in the morning. Then he said "Mommy, can I have some breakfast please? I am very very hungry." It being before I had been awake for 5 hours, he could have asked me to do anything and I would have done it, dragging myself around the house mumbling "...brains..." until I remembered how to make coffee. So sure, Joey, Mommy will ignore the fact that you're naked and make you breakfast before starting your laundry to wash. Sure, Joey, Mommy will stop gathering your clothes to put in the washer to make you another egg without batting an eyelash at you sitting at the table naked as the day you were born (albeit a little cleaner). 3 hours later we had clean underwear on and I made a vow to go buy more, stat.

Which brings us to today and the baby fever. I was in the store, on the phone with my mother, picking out underwear for Joey. He chose two characters and I was repeating the Naked Joey Story to my mother. And she says "I think it's time..." about three times. And after she said it each time I would say "Time for what?" thinking she would answer me. I guess she didn't want to be that mother that drops hints about having more kids or whatever, which is odd because she is the mother who "complimented" me about not looking so bloated the last time she came up to visit. So after the fourth time through the "I think it's time" routine she finally said "I think it's time for Joey to have a permanent playmate". I told her I totally agree and ventured into the baby section to get a bottle brush to wash my husband's Thermos. And I saw them. They were beautiful and drew me in and forced my hand to pick them up for a closer look. They were glass bottles! Apparently the BPA-tainted bottles I fed my son with for over a year were no longer safe and everything in the baby aisle read "BPA FREE!", including the glass bottles. They were so pretty I was entranced into almost buying them but I snapped out of it and was still talking to my mother and then on my way out of the baby section I saw a really pretty diaper bag and said so over the phone and then I said "I have GOT to get the heck out of here" and left the store. While pulling out of my parking spot I saw yet another beautiful sight. He was wearing Converse sneakers, snug-fitting jeans, an artsy t-shirt, had hair down to about his jawline... he was holding a tan and pink baby carrier. He also caught me drooling in my car, attempting to drive it in a straight line. As I drove off I thought about it, and I had a revelation: My husband could totally be that guy!

I have been waiting for my husband to get home all afternoon.