When that sun is high in that Texas sky

What feels like forever but was really two weekends ago, we packed up The Monsters and drove south to San Antonio for Fiesta. “Fiesta?” you say? “As in a party?” Not quite. “As in an entire month of pageants and fundraisers culminating in a week of parades and parties and festivals? When parking restrictions and open container laws mean absolutely nothing? When asking to see a pretty girl’s shoes isn’t creepy?” Yup.

There is a historical side to Fiesta, however. It all began in 1890 as a singular parade put on by the Daughters of the Republic of Texas to honor the heroes of the battles of the Alamo and San Jacinto. Fiesta now stretches over 11 days with over 100 events, has a huge economic impact on the city of San Antonio and raises money for many charities and causes in and around the city as well. The Battle of Flowers Parade (where I took the above photo of The Joey) is second in size only to the Tournament of Roses Parade, and continues to be the only parade in the country organized and produced by women. Plus, it’s just awesome! 

When we (finally) made it to San Antonio there was just enough time to sleep until early the next morning, when we got up early to go to The Battle of Flowers Parade.

If you think I should look a little happier to be at the most awesome place in April, you’re right. I was miserable. As it turns out I am allergic to absolutely everything outdoors, most especially oak and pecan pollens, and grass. So springtime in San Antonio when it’s dry and windy and everything is coated in pollen and grass seed is not my friend. I took Benadryl and kept falling asleep behind my sunglasses sitting and waiting for the parade to start. Which is funny now because I’ve since learned that The Husband and my cousin Bucky kept talking to me only to find out I was asleep behind my sunglasses. Ha!

When was the last time you saw McGruff the dog?! I got a little excited, all those flashbacks to D.A.R.E. and all.

 

 

 

 

This is the army band. And what was so awesome was that they are playing tejano music! I will make a confession here: I still have no idea what they’re saying or anything, but something about San Antonio makes me love tejano music.

 

 

 

 

 

This is pretty much what San Antonio is like during Fiesta. Beautiful, tradtional and draped in flowers.

 

 

 

 

 

I’m still trying to figure out why only Miss San Antonio was driven in a low-rider.

 

 

This is one of the more traditional floats I saw in the parade. I wish the photo could translate the fresh, earthy sweet smell of the flowers as they passed by. It was just beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

So then we got out the cascarones. Confetti eggs. And if you’ve never had the joy of cracking a dyed eggshell filled with paper confetti on the skull of your beloved cousins (shout out, R’s!), you’ve obviously never lived. The downside is that when you have insanely thick curly hair and you get that confetti in there because your aforementioned beloved cousins not only crack the shell on your skull but then rub it in you have to brush out your hair, immediately resulting in a Mexi-fro.

I didn’t take a picture of that.

Did I forget to mention that I had my wisdom tooth out the day before we left for San Antonio? I was so worried that I wouldn’t be able to eat all the yummies awaiting me down south, but it all worked out.

Except for the cerveza-ritas.

My cousins Bucky and Rae kept telling me and The Husband about some wonderful drink called a cerveza-rita. So since our grandmother was out of town* and we were staying there with The Monsters and Izzy the Wonder Dog alone, The Cousins brought over some liquor and beer and made Trey a cerveza-rita. Since I could neither drink through a straw nor ingest alcohol due to the wisdom tooth healing process, I just took the pictures of the cerveza-rita. I hope to have one soon. Very very soon. It wasn’t fair, and I may have pouted.

 

And that was just the end of day one.

 

*Who am I kidding? My grandmother would have probably pulled up a schooner with the rest of them. She’s kinda cool like that.

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!

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!

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.