Lies my father told me

The husband and I have very different view points when it comes to food. He grew up in a family that ate everything. Right down to the brains of a cow. (that those crazy Greeks for ya) While I was raised on good, old fashioned comfort foods. If a recipe didn't include ground beef, cheese or butter, chance were it didn't belong in our house. That's not to say my mother couldn't cook. She was a fabulous cook, everything she made was my favorite. She just had certain likes and dislikes.

Take fish for example. Fish was not something EVER served in my house. My mother didn't like it, my father still doesn't like it (unless that's the only food option, then he'll eat it to keep from going hungry). And my sister believes that if she doesn't eat fish, other little fishes all over the world will spread the good news of her sacrifice and they'll spare her when she chooses to swim in the ocean. She's got some crazy theories....

The closest a fish ever came to being in our house was when my sister was 5. My dad went out fishing without her, which she was DEVASTATED about, and she made him bring home a fish for her to see. When he returned home he had a huge catfish (in retrospect, it probably wasn't all that big) and he had it in his metal minnow bucket with some water. My sister was ecstatic. She was so proud of the fish dad caught that she announced she was taking it to show n tell on Monday. My mother, however, announced it would have to live on the back porch. Perfectly understandable. [nods] This was Saturday. And by Monday morning we discovered that we probably should not have let the fish live on the back porch. Because Sunday had been hot, and fish do not survive on hot days. In metal buckets. We now had a nice steamed catfish. Swimming belly up. It was end of my sister's world. She cried and cried and cried and cried some more. Over a fish. But to make matters worse, she demanded that my dad take the dead fish back to his family. At the lake. An hour away. Perfectly logical to a 5yr old. A fish has got family, a family needs to grieve.

It can easily be assumed that my father was not about to drive an hour away just to throw a dead fish into a pond.

My dad, however, being the crafty father he was, explained to my sister, that if we put him down the storm drain in the front of the house, it'll take him straight back to his family, and everyone would be happy.

She bought it; Hook, line and sinker (pun very much intended).

And she believed that fish had gone back to his family until dad dusted off this old story about 10 yrs later in front of a large family gathering. My sister of course was shocked to find out my dad had lied. How could he?!

To which my father replied, "that's just what parents do..."

And that statement has never been more clear than now. Now that I'm a parent, I find myself "lying" to Tyler out of pure convenience. Alot.

"No, we can't go see the steam shovels at the construction site for the 5th time today, they're sleeping. We don't want to wake them up, right?"

Right.

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He was a visual learner

Ever since we got pregnant, people have always asked, "What does Tyler think of having a baby sister?" Since Tyler had still not processed this concept completely, I just smiled and reply that we're not there yet.

Because if you ask Tyler directly does he want a baby sister, he'll smile his huge smile and shout, "I'm having a baby Emma!"

You see in Tyler's life, he only knows 3 babies; 2 of which are named Emma. Therefore, by toddler logic this means all babies are baby Emma's. Makes perfect sense.

Except that our baby girl's name will be Evelyn, Evie for short.

And when you correct Tyler and say "No Tyler, we're having a baby Evie."

He'll counter with "No, baby Emma!"

Which just turns into a back and forth argument with a 3 yr old. And I'm ashamed to admit, but I have this argument at least once a week. Every time Tyler wins by default, because I forfeit, throw my hands up in the air, sigh my annoyed with everything sigh and stomp out of the room. No judging; an argument with a 3 yr old is way more stressful than arguing with the husband.

Tyler even thinks HE'S the one having the baby. If I point to my abdomen and explain that baby Evie is in my belly. He'll smile back at me, pull up his shirt, smack his belly and announce baby Emma is in his belly. [sigh, head shake] Rationalization isn't working, I will need to change strategies.

Next, I tried showing Tyler how big my belly was getting. I'd stand and show him my profile, and outline the shape of my belly with my hands. Mind you, I was "fluffy" in my mid-section to begin with and up until several weeks ago, despite wearing maternity clothes for nearly 14 wks, most people (including all my coworkers) just thought to themselves that I'd just really let myself go. [humph] Well ain't that a kick in the crotch.

Anyways....

This tactic only backfired when Tyler pointed to the husband's mid-section, poked his belly button, and asked if he too was having a baby. The husband was not pleased.

So I'd all but given up trying to explain to Tyler that he'd have a baby sister in 16 short weeks, conceding that he'd just never get it. When Monday, in a last ditch feasible attempt at understanding, I laid on the couch, pointed to my belly and told Tyler baby Evie was growing inside.

He looked up at me, galloped over, looked quizzically at my belly, poked my belly once, while he announced "Baby Evie in here"

I nearly leaped off the couch. Eureka! We have connection, the light bulb finally went off!

I was so happy that it must have been obvious all over my face, because Tyler just smiled back at me and giggled.

"Yes! Baby Evie is in my belly" I said still smiling.

"And baby Emma up here!" he said and smacked both my boobs.

[crickets]

"Wha, What?" I asked, clarifying. Surely I'd heard him wrong.

"Baby Evie down here" patting my belly "And my babies up here" smacking my boobs again.

I was stunned, speechless, left without thought.

I laughed nervously, and quickly changed the TV channel to Wonder Pets. No sense talking about nonsense, right?

When the husband got home later that night, I rehashed the story for him. He chuckled that fatherly laugh men get when their boys have done them proud. I frowned hoping to communicate my displeasure for our son taking ownership of my breasts.

"That's funny" the husband said, still laughing "But tell him I'm not sharing"

Oh boy.

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When it doesn't suck, dismantle

Several years ago, the husband decided to go all out and buy me a Dyson for Christmas. It was WAY more than he should have spent, but who am I to begrudge his thoughtfulness. It was purple. Heavy. Had lots of gadgets and could suck an obscene amount of dirt out of my 30 yr old carpet. Enough to make Dear Abby faint. So I figured no one should return expensive, heavy, purple gifts that can dazzle and gross you out all at the same time. Right? It was Christmas, and my Santa had got it just right.

Eventually, I discovered I wasn't the only one obsessed with my fancy cleaning machine from heaven. And for those of you who follow me regularly, you can probably guess who else in my house gets really excited when it's time to vacuum.

Tyler loves the vacuum. It's his forever friend. He likes to drag it around the room. He likes to drape himself in the 30 ft cord. He likes to push the knobs, and to empty out the dust canister. He really likes to extend the 14ft cleaning wand and add the attachments and pretend he's sucking up bugs. He also, on occasion, like to give his friend a "snack". (more on this later)

One of the many reason why I love my Dyson is no matter what I suck up, (dirt, wrappers, twisty ties, hair, M&M's, etc) it keeps on sucking. I can vacuum my entire house, fill up the canister WAY past the maximum fill line and I'd still be able to suck my curtains right off the wall.

Now, Dyson advertisers claim: Instead of relying on bags and filters to trap the dust, a Dyson vacuum uses patented cyclone technology to spin the dirt out of the air. That's one of the reasons why it doesn't lose suction, picks up more dirt from your home and expels clean air.

Conclusion: A Dyson doesn't lose suction.

Analysis: Mostly true.

But a better tag ling would have read:

A Dyson doesn't lose suction, even when clogged with batteries.

Why? Because Tyler's vacuum snack was 3 batteries. Several conclusions I made from this fun filled experience.

1) A Dyson's suction is strong enough to suck up 3 batteries shoved in the attachment hose.
2) Tyler's red fire truck is missing it's battery cover.
3) The opening to the dirt canister is not big enough for 3 batteries to pass through.
4) 3 batteries, rattling in the return compartment does not create enough noise for the Husband to be distracted from his ultimate goal. Finish vacuuming in order to watch golf.
5) The sound a Dyson makes when it finally loses suction, is loud enough to send the dog running for cover.
6) Time it takes to locate the noise and dismantle a Dyson in order to reach the resting location of the 3 batteries, 30 mins.

You know you all want to try this little "field experiment" at home now don't you!

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Looked so bad I had to do a double take

I'm gonna need bigger pants. And longer shirts.

My mid-term pregnancy belly is not nearly as "cute" as its predecessor was. The top half of my belly is starting to fill out and get that nice pregnancy round orb shape.

My bottom half, however, is dragging ass, literally, and needs to get with the program.

The bottom half is the floppy, jiggly, cellulite filled, discarded remains of my first pregnancy. The part where I may have gloriously returned to my pre-pregnancy "fluffy" weight [a choir of angels sing] but my lower abdomen didn't get the memo and decided to keep a souvenir.

And now as my body is trying like hell to return to the glory days of a cute pregnant woman, my bottom half is resisting. It's sad, forlorn and insists on hanging out the bottom of my shirts. Making me look like a trailer trash redneck woman who refuses to admit she's gained a few 30 pounds.

I suppose it could be worse. I could look like this.

Gotta love People of Walmart

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When shopping with a 2yr old, all bets are off

The husband has a cousin who lives here in the city and is an eye doctor by profession. Due to busy schedules on both sides, we rarely see each other outside of major family holidays, but on occasion we visit him for “discounted” services.

The husband was in desperate need of new glasses. His current ones were going on 4 years old, whopper-jawed from too many wrestling matches with Tyler and had a wicked crack in the left lens near the bridge. If his glasses were a relative, they’d be the out of work, grabby uncle Moe no one wants to stand next to.

We threw caution to the wind and dared to take Tyler, seeing as this was family, even though that little common sense voice in the back of my head told me I should seriously rethink that plan. Upon our arrival we began perusing the selection, trying on different pairs and eliminating ones that made the husband look too “nerdy”.

Almost immediately I deeply regretted my decision to bring Tyler. Everything was at a 2 yr olds level; perfect for little grubby hands. I’d turned around and he would be double fisting two pair of glasses, clenching them tight, twisting them around. Crunching them between his little stubby fingers.

“Ack! Tyler, put those down!”

But as soon as I’d pry one pair from his hands, he’d yell, “How about these mommy?!” and wrench another pair from the display.

The finale was when he knocked an entire display section of glasses off the wall, hurdling about 30 pairs of glasses onto the floor right in front of the sales person.

My face turned 3 shades of crimson red. I was mortified.

I quickly placed myself between Tyler and the temptation and began scooping up glasses, apologizing with every pair. The sales person, in all honestly, could have been a tad bit more forgiving, her icy stares and curt “it’s ok” communicated that it was anything but “OK”. Obviously she did not have kids of her own.

After the clean up, I herded Tyler over into a corner with a few waiting chair and some out of date magazines. I resolved that we would both sit right here and wait for the husband’s cousin to avoid any further complications or embarrassing situations. I plopped him down in the corner chair and growled out “Sit!” through my clenched teeth. While I forced a smile and glanced around the store to see how much of a scene we’d caused.

Too much.

The husband moseyed over and took a seat to the left of Tyler, while I sat on his right; deploying a technique we had long since mastered. When waiting with a toddler, never leave an open avenue; surround him, block off all means of escape and remove any opportunity to cause trouble.

Maybe we should add “avoid eyeglass stores” to that mastery list...

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Thar she blows!

I really should invest in pantyliner's.

Or maxi pads.

Or a really good laundry detergent.

Or maybe even....[gulp] incontinence products. Oh my god, I'm gonna need adult diapers.

I'm gonna be a 30 yr old pregnant woman, waddling around with a over sized squishy butt who makes a crinkle noise when she sits. I can hear me now.

Swish, swash, swish, swash, crinkle, crinkle.

Why?

Because every time I sneeze, I pee myself.

Aah! Aah! Ah-choo! [trickle] Damn it!

There. I said it. I have bladder control issues.

I go through about 3 pairs of underwear, and two pairs of maternity pants a day. Mainly because I refuse to admit that I am a grown woman who can't control her own bladder.

Hell, my 3 yr old has better bowel controls than I do right now and he's still potty training!

[sigh]

It's even worse when baby girl wakes up and starts her running man impression on my bladder. Thump, thump, thump, tinkle....

I wonder if Julia Roberts peed herself when she was pregnant? Nah...she's pretty woman. Pretty woman don't pee herself. She's got herself together.

Although, it would make my situation a bit more glamorous. To think of celebrities also wearing adult diapers. We could all just sit around, in our pee-pee pants, sipping coffee and gossiping. Like we were all BFF's.

Breaking News: It's the new spring trend! Neon colored pee-pee pants! Don't be caught without yours!

.........

Who am I kidding. It's not fashionable, It's embarrassing. Even the husband thinks it's hysterical.

Makes me wonder if he'd find it so funny if the tables were turned. If he was the one wetting himself 3 times a day for the sake of procreation.

I'd gather not.

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Life with a 2yr old

Tyler has a small obsession with pickles. He'd eat them at every meal if I let him. Correction, he'd eat them FOR every meal if I let him. With ketchup on top.

On average, I go through about a jar of pickles spears a week. The good refrigerated kind. Because, lets be honest, life's too short to eat crappy pickles.

However, last night, it occurred to me that I need to seriously reconsider Tyler's pickle habits.

It was the nightly diaper change that involved poop. Because my son is nothing if not regular, and fair. He poops once a day at the sitters, and once a day at home. Awww, how nice, he shares.

The husband, being the dutiful husband he is, offer to "help" or hang around just in case I needed an extra set of hands. I sat on the floor, ripped the sides of the pull-up apart and exposed the nasal offender. I was speechless. Well, almost, the conversation went something like this:

ME: "Good God! It's.....GREEN! [tipping the diaper back to inspect more closely] What did he eat yesterday?"

HUSBAND: "Uhm....I gave him a pickle for lunch?"

ME: "And he conned 2 outta me for dinner" [sigh]

ME [@ Tyler]: "Buddy, I think mommy is gonna have to cut back on your pickle consumption, you're pooping pickles!"

TYLER: [Pulling down the diaper to see for himself] "Is that my pickle poop?"

The husband and I looked at each other, and fell to the floor laughing hysterically. I tried not to dump the diaper contents on the floor as tears ran down my face, and the husband had to leave the room. Tyler, realizing he'd made a funny, covered his mouth, snickered and said it again with more excitement.

"Pickle Poop!"

It was a good 5 mins before we'd regained our composure. Dear god, please don't let him repeat that at the sitters today. I'm not sure I could handle explaining to 6 other mommy's why my child thinks pickle poop is hilarious.

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It was all hands on deck

When your pregnant, cravings can be very dangerous; for not only yourself but for those around you. Heaven help the man who chooses not to aid a woman during one of her many pregnancy induced food cravings.

Last night, that poor man was my son Tyler. At about 7:30pm, I became overrun by a burning desire for a cheeseburger, a get outta my way; I’m in a hurry kind of desire. But I didn’t want one of McDonald’s wimpy, limp, small, pathetic burgers. No I need me a CHEESEBURGER. Why? Because some dumb idiot thought it’d be a GREAT idea to run a cheeseburger commercial during one of MY shows; A commercial that had all kinds of close-ups and panning of how hot and juicy it looked. With its melty cheese and crisp pickles and tomatoes. Stupid marketing ploys….

Unfortunately, Tyler was too caught up in his play-dough building to be bothered by his mother’s latest insanity. So he protested, and I tried rationalizing, “It will only take a minute, we’ll be right back”.

Then he stomped his foot, so I tried bargaining, “Want mommy to get you a happy meal toy?”

Then he just shook his head no, so I tried pleading, “But mommy is VERY hungry”.

When he shot back with a loud “NO!” I’d had enough.

I scooped him up in his pj’s, slung him under my arm, his slippers bobbing precariously on the end of his toes, threatening to slip off, grabbed my car keys on the way out and plopped him into the car seat.

I knew I’d regret eating anything this late. But I didn’t care. I was consumed.

I drummed my fingers on the dashboard impatiently as the guy in front of me dawdled and took his sweet time obeying the speed limit in our residential neighborhood. I fidgeted with my gear shift as I waited in the drive-thru line as the lady ahead of me leisurely pursued the menu. And nearly took a kids arm off at the drive-thru window as he handed me my sack and I stepped on the gas and hauled ass back to my house.

I savored every bite, even if they had screwed up my order and put onions on my cheeseburger. And just as I predicted, as I neared the end of my sandwich, I sorely regretted my decision.

I.was.full.

In that, stick-a-fork-in-me-I’m-done kinda way. And at that moment I could have doubled as a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon I was so bloated and full, but I didn’t care, I may have been miserable. But I was happy. At least, until the next out of control craving hit.

So all persons living in a 5 mile radius of my abode be on the lookout for a crazy-eyed, curly-haired pregnant woman in a house coat. And keep a wide berth.

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Introducing Evelyn Lee.....

The tech on Monday was "extremely confident" that there was no doubt we were blessed with a little girl. And so graciously provided us with a money shot, or a lack of money as the husband has already started lamenting about. The husband has, however, quietly admitted he's very excited to have a little girl, even if the thought of having a girl is already forcing him to loose sleep.

With confirmation that my thoughts all along were correct, I have slept just fine and I have spent the past 2 days day-dreaming about the next stage of of pre-baby planning....the nursery. Because despite my best intentions with Tyler to create a "gender-neutral" nursery, I failed miserably. Blues, greens, turtles....not very "girly".

My failure, though will allow me to flex my creative muscles and create a very girl-centric nursery, with lots of shopping as a natural byproduct. I've already got a good idea of what the room will look like.

We'll do a pink and chocolate brown theme with lambs as accents.

The walls will be soft pink on top, with a white chair rail and chocolate brown below.

I found this reusable vinyl wall expression to go right above the crib from a good friend who sells Upper Case Living.


So far that's all I've got, but it has only been 2 days!

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The BIG day

Today is the big day. The husband and I are heading this afternoon to our ultrasound.

I originally told the husband that I didn't want to know what we were having. I wanted it to be a surprise until birth. I was met with mixed emotions from my family and friends. Most of my family was very supportive, my stepmother thought it was wonderful! My friends were slightly disappointed, but understood. My sister, however, was crushed. She felt I was personally punishing her, and spent much of that day ignoring me. She's made it well known that she "expects" a girl this time around. And has even had one-on-one conversation with the husband about his fate if he failed to produce her a girl.

So when the neurotic planner in me started to realize that I'd have to wait till AFTER the baby was born to do any shopping, decorating, organizing, etc. I panicked. OMG! What about this, what about that, how am I going to...I had worked myself into a mad frenzy by week 14.

It was then that my stepmother calmly mentioned maybe I should find out, for my own sanity. She said "if it will make you feel better, then it's no big deal." And she was right. Once I began to tell people that we were finding out, everyone seemed to draw a collective sigh of relief. As if there was a side bet going to see how long I'd last before I cracked.

It also didn't help that when most people met me for the first time just assumed because my first was a boy I'd want a girl this time. Truth was, I didn't much care either way. I'd even fed my neurosis by making a mental pro/con list:

Pro Girl
1. The thoughts of cute little dresses, and ruffed socks, and hair decorations
2. The shopping that goes with #1 :)
3. The eventual joy of doing "mom/daughter" things like prom dress shopping and planning a wedding.
4. Giving my daughter a family name to help remember my mother.
5. Having more "back-up" later against the inevitable increasing testosterone level in my house

Pro Boy
1. I am in L-O-V-E with my selected boy name
2. The thought of having two boys, two brothers who will share a life long bond is amazing
3. The frugality of having the same sex and not having to buy another thing.
4. Boys are so much fun

So today is the day. Today I'll feel 100% better, calmer, and more prepared. And either way I'll be happy. I do have my own theories about the gender, though I'll wait to share that tomorrow. But for today, you tell ME what you think? Boy or Girl?

What is the Gender of Baby #2
	Boy
	Girl
pollcode.com free polls

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Text from earlier today...

The husband and I are apart a good amount of time during the week, so we have some pretty random conversations over IM on our crackberries. But these two convo's today were funnier than usual, we're in rare form today.

Convo #1

Husband: Hey it's gonna be a late night, do we have anything at home to eat?

Me: Yes [running through the list of items in the fridge] but please let me know what you'd like to eat so I'll can try not to eat any of it.

Husband: Honey, eat what you want, I'll just find something when I get home

Me: No, I'm not kidding, the psycho crazy food cravings have kicked in and I'm eating anything not nailed down.

Husband: LOL!

ME: Wait! There's more, I had a bacon deluxe burger for lunch only about 1 1/2hrs ago and now I'm working my way through a can of mixed nuts.

Husband: We have mixed nuts?

ME: Ya, I bought them last night, they were on sale. Along with some jelly beans.

Husband: Ooh I like jelly beans!

ME: Uhm, ya...those may not have made it through the night.

Husband: [crickets]

Convo #2

ME: I screwed up

Husband: Why....?

ME: I had to take your mother to the airport, so I grabbed a $20 from our deposit stash for parking. But when I went to leave, I got stuck in the cash only automated teller machine line. So now I've got 18 gold dollar coins. I feel like a little old blue hair who just hit hit the jackpot in Vegas. [jingle, clink, jingle]

Husband: ROFL!

ME: Ya I figured you'd find that funny. How am I suppose to put coins in the atm!?!

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Tap, tap, tap....remember me?

So.....it's been like FOREVER since I posted.

[slap]...Bad blogger....[slap]...Bad blogger...

I kinda lost my momentum/inspiration and fell pathetically short of the unwritten expectations of a blogger. But I'm gonna give this another shot and try like hell to maintain a modest goal of 3 posts per week.

Now that we've got that cleared up, I'm guessing a catch-up post would be appreciated. So let me see...what is new....

Oh, yes [ding!]......WE'RE PREGNANT! However, I feel that's a bit anticlimactic since most of my readers knew that already. But hey, a good general announcement never hurt anyone.

We're due with #2 in August, and honestly we're thrilled, we're ready for this next stage of our lives. Well, I should probably qualify the word thrilled* with one tiny disclaimer.

* 8 weeks of all day, nauseating, porcelain throne praying, meat smell aversion, not tonight honey I have a vomit headache, "morning sickness" is more than necessary to remind a woman that this was her brilliant idea, and that she should probably consider making this her last pregnancy.

And...moving on to other things of importance worth noting:

1) We're actively trying to potty training. Tyler, unfortunately has other ideas and is actively NOT potty training.

"Tyler do you need to use the potty?"

No [grunts]

"Are you sure....wait! Are you pooping?!?"

No

2) The husband and I are planning a short vacation (which happens to coincide with a business trip I'm being forced to take) to the beautiful Bay Area. This will be our first "vacation" since we got married almost 4 years ago, it's highly deserved/needed, and will most likely be the last "couple vacation" we get until we're both grey, crotchety and contemplating dentures.

3) We are spending an obscene amount of money finishing home improvement projects that were started over various periods of time, with good honest intentions, but for whatever pathetic reason were abandoned. We're forecasting that child #2 may be more than we bargained for and our spare time will become obsolete.

It was also determined, that future and forever New Year's resolutions for the husband will be: to NOT, under any circumstances, take the wife & the charge card to the Home Depot in the same trip, especially if she mentions "browsing", "getting ideas", "just looking" or any combination of those words.

4) We are waiting, not so patiently for Monday's big event of the gender ultrasound. The husband is slightly excited, he can be very apathetic. I, however, have hung my very existence on this determination. In my mind nothing can move forward in our lives until we know. It's it a girl, boy, girl, boy, girl, boy.....augh!!

I, although you'd never know it, bounce back and forth for weeks trying to decide if we'd find out or if we'd keep it a surprise. My sister unfortunately didn't find my indifference funny, she accused me of personally trying to torture her. She, is hanging her very existence on her sister providing her with a girl.

So, if I still have any readers left, I guarantee you I'll be better this time around than I have been in the past four months.

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