Today's post is sponsored by the letter B

Banana, Bear, my friend B

Happy Halloween!

Today was E's first Halloween. Of course, I blogged about his costume choices back in early September, but the banana was a big hit. He was stripped down and stuffed into it a grand total of four times (6:30am for my amusement before work, 10:00am for the parade at daycare, 5:20pm to get pics with his friend B and 5:50pm for grandma). All in all he was a good sport.

Although, sized up to 12 months--E was kind of sporting the 3/4 quarter length sleeve due to his long-ish arms (undoubtedly, received from me in the gene soup). And the costume was SUPER thick. After just a few moments of sitting in it, E got kind of hot. At one point, I partially unzipped him and a family member at B's house commented, "Hey! Now he's a sexy banana!" Heh.

Pics below:

That's B dressed as a bear. I kept rubbing his tummy.

At one point we realized that they were kind of holding hands. And while I didn't catch it on camera, B did snaggle E in for a hug and some sort European kiss on both cheeks. It was ridiculouslessly cute.

Put your finger tips together for more, more, more*

I'm sometimes amazed at how little food we have in the house. This isn't a good thing. I mean, I like eating and how can I be expected to pursue this if there aren't tasty goods at my disposal?

One of the local mega-grocery stores near our house has an "express" service. You shop for items online, choose a pick-up time, drive to the store and they put the groceries in your car. Hello?! Even when someone is doing the pull-from-shelf-put-into-cart thing, I somehow can't seem to manage to stock our pantry. It's times like this that I feel I really should get my act together.

Sigh.

T and I have set-up a "meeting" with each other to formulate/stuff ourselves into some sort of budget. With increased costs of the E-nature and my propensity for eating lunches out because I'm too beat down tired to make a lunch the night before AAANNND Christmas shopping approaching, I'm actually feeling the need to evaluate what's coming in and what's going out. I have a feeling numbers are going to be a bit of a kick in the nuts, but if it means arranging things so that we're able to take a few more vacations or not sweat paying for E's college--then I suppose it's worth it.

Oh, and 30 Rock is on tonight. If you're one of the two and half people who read this blog but don't happen to watch this show, then you should be embarrassed. Because if you like to laugh/pee your pants a little, then this show is for you.




*The title references the songs made o' crack that is Baby Signing Time. The songs are about addictive as meth in that you only need to hear them once to be hooked like a junky on the smack. But, hey, unlike with meth--at least your teeth don't fall out.

Random useless tidbits

T and I are going to a Halloween costume party this weekend. Yeah, and the theme? Pimps and hos. Heh. I haven't felt ho-ish for sometime now. And when thinking of pimps, T keeps repeating this joke from the "Dave Chappelle Show":

What did the five fingers say to the face?
Slap!

That always make me laugh. Anyway, I bought some wings and a halo and in pairing it with a shirt from home--am going to be an angel. I really wanted to work in a wand in some way, but I didn't want to be confused for a fairy. Important distinction.

****

I'm reworking a presentation that someone from my Workplace put together as a template. It's crap. I'm thinking a consistent typeface, limited use of ROY G BIV for the words and perhaps a middleground between size 125 font and size 18 would be good. Geesh.

That and it's 42 slides long. For 15 minutes.

****

Lately, E has been "chatting" at night. Well, really, at 3am. And 4:30am. And 5:15am. While the babble is cute (hey guys wanna chat i wanna chat wanna play are you out there i think you're out there is my pacifier around here have you seen it how did my arms get out of my burrito hey are those my feet), I've been torn whether or not to respond to it by going in his room. The times I have gone in there to put his pacifier back in, he actually grabs my hands and smiles at me in the dark. It's kind of cute, but, dude!--I'm tired.

Anyway, at his doctor's appointment today I asked the doctor if I should get him up or let him lie there and chat himself back to sleep. She said to let him lie there. We'll see how that goes tonight.

****

Whatever happened to Fine Young Cannibals?

****

I made this last night:





Along with a box of the Butternut Squash risotto (a risotto sampler, if you will). I so love risotto and I was mucho happy to find this at Target.

Yeah, well, it tasted like feet/ass. It was horrible.

The thing is, I put "Archer Farms risotto" in the Google box and up popped lots of mentions about it on other blogs. All saying they loved it. Oooff.

****

Lastly, here are a few photos of E:






He does look rather suspicisous here, doesn't he?

A photo retrospective of "Lounging with Lion"--Part II

2 months

3 months 2 weeks

5 months

Fire in the hole

Discovered last night at 8:39pm:

1) Waffles can catch on fire

2) Saying "T! Hurry!" does not necessarily mean he will move any faster than, say, an earthworm. On a dry sidewalk. In July.


****

With feeling beat down tired and having this conversation...

"Will you go out and get us something to eat?"
"No."
"What if I paid you?"
"With our money?"
"It's still money."
"I'm not going. You go."
"Dude, I'm in my jammies."

...I decided to have waffles for dinner. I toasted the waffles in the oven because I think they taste better that way. The downside, however, is that they sometimes fall through the slats of the oven tray.

Well, last night the waffle did indeed fall through the slats and landed on one of the heating coils at the bottom of oven. I watched as the waffle shriveled, then turned black and then burst into flames. I shrieked, "Hon! Hurry!," grabbed a mug out of the cabinet and threw some water on the waffle. It made an awful hissing sound and then burst into flames AGAIN! (Probably because, you know, it was still resting on the coil.) T just saunters into the kitchen and is all, "What's going on in here?" I shout excitedly, "Waffle! ON FIRE!" He grabs an oven mitt out of the cabinet and I'm all, "No! Use tongs!" But instead he reaches in and snaggles the waffle and tosses it into the sink.

Now you'd think that burnt waffle would smell kind of nice, right? I mean, still burned--but with a tinge of nice batter-smell or something. Not so much. Burned waffles smell bad. Kind of like burned hair.

Anyway, with the waffle sizzling nastily in the sink, I'm all:

"Umm, hello? I said 'Hurry!' What took you so long?"
"I was coming!"
"No, you were shuffling."
"You should have said 'Fire!'--then I would have come faster."
"But I don't want throw around the word 'fire'--'hurry!' should have been sufficient."
"I'm just saying--if it's serious, you should say 'Fire!' "
"Whatever. Just make it snappy next time."
"How about there not be a 'next time' and you just use the toaster like a normal person."

Husbands.

For your Saturday viewing pleasure

I give you T in a chef's hat...

Love/hate Friday

Love: My cousin, her husband and their ridiculouslessly cute daughter are coming to visit us this weekend.

Hate: It is supposed to rain the entire time. They're super low key, but am still feeling like I should have entertainment options tucked up my sleeve.

Love: E has become my reason for being unable to rake leaves this fall. And we get a crapload of leaves. CRAPload.

Hate: I think I may be officially thick of waist.

Love: Despite this revelation, am not sure how much I actually care.

Hate: The way my skirt sticks to my tights. I guess that's what slips are for, but slips seem so old school.

Love: Aprons from Etsy

Hate: Etsy brings up soooo many fabulous things. As in an, like, 12,000 pages of tote bags. I suppose I could narrow it down but what if I miss something fab?

Love: Check out Filegirl for an AWESOME picture of a kid riding a sheep at a rodeo. Holy shnikes, that's funny.

Hate: It is supposed to be cold, rainy and maybe a tick snowy next week.

Love: E's industrial-thick fleece banana costume should be upto the task of shielding him from the elements.

Hate: Broccoli

Love: Taylor Swift and her pink BeDazzled guitar

Hate: The potential for a very drawn-out, never ending Friday afternoon at work

Love: Perhaps T will bring something tasty home for dinner (hint, hint)

Hate: Because everyone and their brutha is talking about Sarah Palin's wardrobe, I dreamt about her all night. Every single dream. From 10pm-5:30am. Ugh.

Love: It could have been worse--it could have been John McCain.

Hate: Have decided that if I had to choose an era in which to choose a look, that I would not be circa 1970s (although, this series of books looks interesting)


Love: I would choose to have Edith Head dress me. She was wacky but could put together a mean outfit. Check out "The Ten Commandments" and "To Catch a Thief." And, um, hello?--"The Ten Commandments" had Yul Brynner. Without a shirt. Holla.

Engineering: MBA style

It wasn't until we moved into our house that I really discovered how handy T is, like grew-up-on-a-farm-and-learned-real-skills type of handy. Except that T didn't grow up on a farm. He went to boarding schools. And then studied Economics in undergrad. Yeah, I know.

Despite these hindrances, my husband has somehow been able to pick up the knowledge and skills to: 1) Install new kitchen faucets 2) Hang and rewire new light fixtures 3) Operate our scarily-huge snow blower and 4) Put together an extensive array of baby items.

See below:


Get crack a lackin' on that jumper.



See that swing in the background? Picture Memorial Day 2008. I'm hugely pregnant (and probably sweating. And drinking chocolate milk) and T is wrestling with this while I lounge on the couch, watching a movie and wearing some sort of jerry-rigged stretchy pant outfit since nothing I had fit. Anyway, the swing became T's nemesis and he used an awful lot of pottymouth-type words to put it together. While I laughed. And drank chocolate milk.

Heavily reconsidering the words used in presence of son.



And it's complete!



MUST. TASTE. FROG.



Is SportsCenter on?

Aaannnd...I'm done.

****

Unrelated to jumpers and swear words, I took this picture last night. It strikes me as extra sweet whenever I see E's teeny tiny shoes on the floor of his room. It just reminds me that we have a son and that's he's small and that I love him.

Oh, the crystal ball

When I was pregnant, I would obsess over what E was going to be like (mellow or high strung? big or little? and on and on and on). Of particular fascination was who he was going to take after--T or I. What sort odd combination of personality characteristics would he receive from the gene soup?

Well, today I caught a glimpse.

I put E in his Baby Einstein Activity Gym Bouncer Overstimulation Machine while I took a shower. It was about mid-right leg shave that E started wigging out. And I started laughing. Apparently, he couldn't jump or get any kind of footing because his little footied jammies were too slippery on our wood floor. This kept from him standing or jumping or twirling around to find another toy to bug out on. So he got a little pissed because it must have been like trying to type out an email at your desk but having someone keep twirling your office chair around and yanking the keyboard out of your way.

So, I got out and fished his little feet out of his jammies so he could grip the floor. Well, the tone had been set and things were not improving. Then he got all frustrated because this very scary/entertaining musical star was just out of his reach. No matter how much he tried to drag his drooly little maw towards it, it wasn't working. Meanwhile, the star is smiling psychotically and playing the William Tell overture.

Well, at that point put a fork in him because E was done. He'd gone from frustrated to pissed to whimpering to all out crying. With tears. And balled up shaking fists.

After trying to mellow him out, I finally laughed (and this is where I say to the four people who read this blog: I promise I don't always laugh at my baby when he's frustrated. It was just this day. I swear.) because I so recognized myself in E's experience.

Try something new.
Become frustrated that it cannot be mastered right away.
Become way frustrated.
Turn pissy.
Scorn new activity for rest of day. Perhaps forever.
(The above reasons are why I don't play sports. That, and I can turn craaazay competitive.)

Good things? E has perseverance when he wants something. Negatives? Not mastering it on the first try can send him over the edge.

Well, at least he has my eyes.

Confessions

1. I just found out that the students I encounter at Workplace totally know who the librarians are and talk about us. Thought we librarians were helpful-type people who flew under the radar. Well, apparently, as one of our student assistants put it, "We totally have your number." They know which ones to ask for office supplies, which ones to ask for research assistance and which ones are rude and mean. Eeep! Have been obsessing about this all morning.
2. Have been receiving emails of a far one-sided political nature from a family member. I'm trying to not let what he's sending out or his responses to others change my opinion of him, but I'm finding this difficult.
3. As I was heading into the kitchen to put away my plate after dinner last night, T asked if I could get him another helping. I responded with, "I'm not your pot-pie bitch." Perhaps that wasn't so polite.
4. I honk at people who throw cigarette butts out of their car window.
5. I am going to start working out again. It is time to wrastle down the waistline.
6. If I could dress E in khakis and collared-shirts everyday, I would. However, as a teenager he'd inevitably either: a) End up a miniature Alex P. Keaton or b) Turn goth.
7. There is a baby in E's daycare room that has Donald Trump hair. Comb over. Wave. Faux thickness. It's odd.
8. If cost weren't an option, I just might get my hips sucked. Might.
9. I still think about a coat that I passed on buying. Two years ago.
10. Last night, T and I ironed out who we would remarry should the other person bite it. Him: Jennifer Love Hewitt (dark hair, likes to smile) or Kate Beckinsale (is already a mom). Me: Viggo Mortensen (smart, is already a dad) or John Stewart (funny).

Random useless tidbits

I sometimes think that now is the time to have another baby. My theory being--sure E has been sleeping 7-8 stretches for about a month or so now, but I'm not completely resting on my laurels. I remember what 2 hours felt like. I'm thinking that while I still have some memory of that, we should seize the day. Again, the theory being if your body remembers the hard times, then they won't be as hard the second time around.

I think the issue is when couples wait a few years and are all, "La! La! La! Babies are great! Let's have another one!" When really, due to trauma, they've completely forgotton what it's like to get up every hour and a half.

You gotta think these things through. Like me.


****

My friend R ran a half-marathon yesterday. She ran for over two hours. That's a long-ass time to run, if you ask me. She wore special shorts to keep her hips from hurting. Mentally, I've likened them to a sporty-type version of Spanks.

****

We have a new librarian starting today here at Workplace. She's kind of a smarty boots. Undergrad at the London School of Economics, PhD from Cornell, law school at Stanford and library school at the University of Washington.

Needless to say, I won't be sharing that I used to skip my lit. classes to watch Jerry Springer.

****

I think I might be wearing maternity tights. They were the only black, non-patterned tights I had in my dresser and since I was running late--didn't question the size of them. They're not pinchy like tights usually are which has me wondering.

****

Well, I didn't get to watch R's start of the marathon nor did I get to make my chocolate chip pumpkin bread--but I was able to see my friend A get baptized, take some mega walks with E and help T put together the jumper. Also, put out pumpkins and mums. So far the squirrels have not gotten to hip to the buffet that is waiting on the front stairs. I figure it's only a matter of time.

****

E has decided 1) That he loves the remote because it has a little red light that appears when you push a button and 2) That he MUST. TASTE. NOW!

Before and after

Vacation planning pre-baby:

Scope out fun city. Waffle between cool, boutique hotel and compare it with lux, major hotel. Compare and contrast services at hotels: Spa? check. Proximity to bars and restaurants? check. Investigate neighborhood online and see what great shopping may be near by. Talk to Husband about time off from work. Rub hands together with anticipation of fun times to come.

Vacation planning post-baby:

Scope out hopefully family-friendly city. Scope out hotel options and decide which one will piss baby off less that he is not sleeping in his own bed. Compare and contrast services at hotels: Pool? check. Proximity to zoos and children's museum? check. Investigate flight options and send many prayers to the heavens hoping baby does not wig out on said flight. Talk to Husband to make sure he knows what we're signing up for. Rub hands together and hope all goes smoothly.

****

Lastly, who REALLY uses those babysitting services at hotels? Because that freaks me the F out. I really don't envision myself saying, "Oh, you work for Marriott? Well then, you MUST be qualified to care for my child."

Eyeballing the weekend

I have worked late almost every single evening this week and because E goes to bed at 6:30pm, I've missed seeing him. Working late also meant that T had to handle everything--picking E up and wrestling him home, giving him cereal, cleaning him up, feeding him the bottle, jammies and burrito, book, bed, bottles for daycare the next day, scrounging up dinner, staring vacantly at wall--himself after a 10 hour workday. It's tiring.

Anyway, I'm way looking forward to...

...being able to take walks in the neighborhood. Last weekend, we took E's stroller from this:

to this:

Otherwise known as the "big boy" stroller since now he can sit-up in it and look around. He seems to dig it.

...making chocolate chip pumpkin bread. A ridiculously tasty recipe.

...hitting the art museum with T and E to see the Avedon exhibit.

...seeing a good friend of mine get baptized.

...cutting back my hydrangeas, peonies and hostas. They look sad and it's time to winterize.

...putting out mums and pumpkins and corn stalks. The squirrels will then act ridiculous and destroy everything. Little bastards.

...exchanging something we already have for the Jumperoo. Although, this will mean some Fisher Price engineering on T's behalf. Am not sure he's aware of this need.

...taking deep, restorative breaths.

For real? Dang.

A list of things NO ONE told me about pregnancy/child birth/being a mom that would've been slightly helpful to know about ahead of time.

1. Pushing. is. hard. HARD! It may feel like you're going to shoot your eyeballs out of your skull.
2. Hemmorhoids. Don't think you'll escape unscathed and don't underestimate them.
3. Prenatal appointments are all fun and games (the ultrasound! the heartbeat! the baby has grown!) until you have to pee in that cup for the upteenth time and you're 39 weeks pregnant and you haven't seen your nether regions in about 14 1/2 weeks and you're sweaty and wrestling with potentially ginormous undies.
4. After having the baby, prepare to be constipated and be prepared to cry upon having to poo for the first time. I would've preferred to have an epidural for that experience rather than giving birth. You will feel like you're going to rip clean open and have all your insides drop out of you, but this (allegedly) won't happen. At any rate, eat stool softeners like Tic Tacs and it might make it a bit easier. Might.
5. Your baby might get the rage at the thought of being put into a sling.
6. While pregnant, riding a bike will feel more comfortable than walking.
7. Your boobs will get huge and this will be unnerving. Then you'll get used to them and dig it. And then they'll shrink and you'll be sad.
8. The "Mama Bear"-instinct of inherently always wanting to protect your child is fierce.
9. People will make ass-y comments about the following: pain relief during delivery, nursing, weight gain during pregnancy and using childcare.
10. Onesies on infants are a complete hassle. Go with the kimono shirt instead.

Love/hate Tuesday

Love: Halloween candy. LLLOOOVVE it.

Hate: Necco wafers. I mean, really? They're just freakin' gross.

Love: New dresses

Hate: The slowness that is flex reimbursement. Do they not know that's technically already our money? Not theirs. Ours. I request that T stalk them on a daily basis.

Love: Gift cards

Hate: E lost his cool yesterday evening. Just straight up l.o.s.t. i.t. Teething, overstimulation, tired or all of the above left T wrangling one FEISTY baby.

Love: Doughnuts that are crispy on the outside and cakey-goodness on the inside

Hate: Am working multiple late nights this week. Have been anticipating this crap week of hours for sometime and just want to get through it.

Love: Cozy sheets

Hate: Pinchy underwear

Love: Seeing a good movie and eating tasty popcorn with T

Hate: Reading bad news on blogs

Love: These little shoes for E.

Hate: That the girl options are even cuter. Always the case.

Love: E's little inquisitive eyebrows

Hate: Sometimes they look like this: \ / if he's cranky

Love: T has stuck to his word (aka caved-in) in allowing a feline resident at our house. Holla!

IDK MY BFF B?

Yesterday, we headed over to the R family house for some chatting, drooling and Jumperoo test-driving.

My friend J, who had her son B six weeks ahead of E's arrival, and I kind of stumbled upon our friendship. Her husband, M, and I worked together and they both remained close with my parents. It wasn't until we met up at a 5K over a year ago that J and I really got to know each other.

We discovered that we were both going to Dr. Eccentricbutfreakishlysmart; are a tick OCD about a laundry list of things; love cheese, sour cream and P.F. Changs; have husbands who are fabulous but also ridiculous and are stroller-obsessed.

Anyway, J got knocked-up and then I did too. We both bid sayonara to Dr. EBFS and became non-stop emailers about the crapiness that is maternity clothing and the gross side effects of pregnancy.

We joke about B and E's (breaking and entering?) differences--one is compact and fair, the other is noodle-like and brown--and their similarities--an affinity for Baby Signing Time. They hung out a lot this summer while J and I were both out on maternity leave, but really kind of eye-balled each other for the first time yesterday.



E and B--the Early Years. E is only one day old and B is six weeks old (and looking a bit put-out).



Present day. Both a bit leery of something stage right.



Okay, so it may look like E ran a marathon and totally sweated-out his onesie--that would be the Marathon of Drool.

E taking a lean to the left.






Either a well-placed right hook or a friendly paw on the shoulder.






E clearly over the photo shoot--and B trying to make a break for it.

From the patch

For the record, can I just say how OVER sweating I am? So ov-vah. It's mid October here and it was freakin' 82 degress today. Ridiculousness. How am I supposed to get in the mood of putting out mums and pumpkins if I'm sweating like a hog doing it? Really now.

Anyway, imagine crisp, fall weather when viewing the pictures below. I promise I didn't stuff E into a fleece jacket just to make him sweat.

This is kind of like that scene from "Christmas Story" where the poor boy can't move his arms because his mom bundled him up so. Had he wanted, I'm not sure E could have bent his arms.

Cute coat, though, right?


In this photo, I kind of feel like T is following Tyra's directions for ANTM.



Requisite photo in front of apple trees. I promise E could see more than just a few inches over the carrier.

Random useless tidbits

Have gone to the doctor and it appears that I have a dodgy toe. He's thinking it was because of the pedicure I received over weekend. I want to make it clear, though, that I did not go to my regular salon where they do a bang-up job on feet AND hands for only $45.00. No, I went to a REAL salon where the pedicure was ridiculously expensive. Yeah, that's right--the REAL salon gave me the dicey toe-action I now have. I'm just saying. (cough*M*cough). Last night T was rather alarmist and told me I better head to the doctor first thing this morning so that it doesn't get out of control and then have to be amputated. "Other wise when you go to your regular place--they'll say, 'You pick color. We still charge you for ten toe.'"


****

Tomorrow T and I are going on a day-date. We both took a vacation day from work, will be taking E to daycare and then heading off into the sunset (sunrise?) for fun and adventure. The theme, "Things We Used To Do Without Second Thought But Now Require A Vacation Day To Pursue."

This involves: eating eggs (so HARD to do while holding a baby), going to a movie, shopping for jeans, going to a book store in a leisure-like fashion, eating a salad in a restaurant (again, inevitably bits of lettuce and ranch end up on baby's head when he is in tow) and other good things.

****

Shows on my DVR that I am excited about watching:

The Real Housewives of Atlanta
Kath & Kim
Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making the Team

(You can laugh about that last one, but that team is TOUGH to make it on. Seriously.)

****

Our friend J and her son B have welcomed us over on Sunday (actually, I kind of invited us over) so that E can try B's Jumperoo. E loves to kick and whatnot so thinking if he's actually upright--kicking might foray into jumping. We'll see how it goes.

****

Lastly, I leave you with a picture of E rockin' his little man shirt:


Well, hello, ladies.






Just never you mind why I don't have pants on.

Feed me, Seymour!

And so E has entered the Wonderful World of Rice Cereal.








This is my favorite photo because he's all, "Are you for real?"

4 More Years!

(As snaggled from Janet at Slice of Pink)

If I were elected President, these are the things I would make illegal:

1. Air quotes. They don't make any sense.
2. The phrase, "Thinking outside the box." When I hear this it kind of gives me the rage.
3. The ends of a loaf of bread
4. Oil changes
5. Random touching of one's baby by strangers.
6. Things that are on the sale rack but actually not on sale. I would mandate that the sale price be given.
7. Overdraft charges by banks
8. Broccoli
9. Self proclaimed "lash enhancing" mascaras that do not, in fact, enhance lashes.
10. Diet Dr. Pepper. It just doesn't taste good.

What would you deam unfit for the American public?

(Unrelated side note...Two things: While wearing his tiny little-man shirt yesterday for his pictures (and only after having it on for 2 SECONDS!), with deadly precision E horked right into the front pocket. It was funny and gross at the same time. Also, at the doctor's yesterday I saw a woman wearing acid washed jeans AND a banana clip. Throw in some NKOTB and I was right back in 7th grade.)

Baby got back

For no other reason other than we'll pretty sure he'll watch craploads later on in life, T and I try to keep E from watching television. Well, I guess there are a few other reasons--there's got to be other ways to engage a baby, right? And what about those random studies linking television viewing in infants to ADHD later on? I'm not a person to always believe in "the experts," but I feel wierd about letting E stare vacantly at a screen.

Anyway, it's kind of tricky. If it's on and he catches a sniff of it, his head will do a 180 to watch it.

Things we said this weekend before turning it off or physically moving him so that he couldn't see it:

"No Lifetime movies for the baby."

"No hip-hop videos for the baby."

That last one was because T and I have been engrossed in VH1's 100 Greatest Hip Hop Songs. For an oldie but a goodie, it was often discussed how T was grooving to it in college while I was listening to it huddled with my girlfriends at a middle school dance. Heh.

Anyway, we still don't know which one was #1 and I find myself mulling it over. Hmm. I need closure on this kind of thing. May have to Google it.

Love/hate Saturday

Love: Saw lots of family AND went to Klackle's today

Hate: T is sleepy and a tick edgey

Love: E's new tomato hat which he sported at the orchard

Hate: Had to pay for the corn maze

Love: E can now face OUT in his Bjorn. He loved it. Not that being smashed into my chest wasn't something to enjoy.

Hate: I haven't eaten dinner and I already want to go to bed

Love: The Mexican street justice-movie with Jodie Foster is on HBO tonight. Can not guarantee I'll make it past nine thirty, however.

Hate: People who mistake T's name for Kendall and then I'm forced to call him Kendall for the rest of the night. Actually that's just more of a "Laugh" than a "Hate."

Love: My pink flannel pajamas that have sock monkeys on them. Hello, Cozy--I have missed you.

Hate: Edgey husbands (see #2)

Love: Refreshed husbands (not currently on list)

Hate: Chicken on the bone

Love: Key lime pie. And caramel apples. And ranch dressing.

Inventory

Last fall my bag was totally snatched out of my hands. In broad daylight. Right in front of Workplace.

Anyway, after that I thought I would start traveling lighter. Turns out, not really.

A current listing of things I have in my purse/totebag:

1. Wallet-checkbook-change thing
2. Umbrella
3. Pen
4. L.L. Bean catalog (to remind me to order this for E)
5. Movies to return to Blockbuster (SATC, Smart People, Vantage Point, Miss Pettigrew... and In Bruges)
6. Makeup pouch
7. Tori Spelling book
8. Eye glasses case
9. Business cards
10. Neutragena hand lotion
11. Burt's Bees cuticle creme
12. Two picture books (Library Lion and Scaredy Squirrel Makes a Friend)
13. Random envelope with notes of makeup products I want to buy (spotted in Lucky magazine)
14. Appointment card for haircut later this month
15. Calendar/planner
16. Car keys
17. Office keys
18. Cell phone
19. Address book
20. A pacifier

Random other items that sometimes make it the haul: E's bottles for daycare, my lunch and extra clothes and wipes for E.

I'd like to travel lighter but I sometimes feel comforted by being able to essentially carry around a day's necessities in one tote. Only thing missing is snacks.

What's in your bag?

Flashback, forward and sideways

A year ago today T and I found out that I was pregnant. Singularly the happiest day of my entire life. I'm not lyin'. It even beats out getting married and that was a pretty good day.

T and I thought that the second round of fertility nastiness had been a bust, that we'd stop going to Dr. Eccentricbutfreakishlysmart, start anew with the only other RE in town who didn't accept our insurance, up the ante with treatments and think about eating Ramen for the rest of our lives to pay for IVF.

Turns out we didn't have to.

I went in that morning to have my blood drawn but was feeling like it was all just a ginormous waste of time. To make matters worse, the new resident Dr. EBFS had was Eastern European and BRUTAL with the needle. I couldn't understand what she was asking me AND she tore up my veins.

Headed home to be a complete masochist and watch a ridiculous amount of "Baby Story" on TLC. Blah.

Got the call from the nurse at 11:10am and could just tell from way she said, "Is this K?..." that she had good news. We hung up. I sobbed. It was fab.

Debated whether or not to call T since he was out of town. I knew how down he'd been since thinking things hadn't "taken" for that cycle and wanted to reassure him right away that all was SUPER. On the otherhand, I so wanted to see his face when telling him. Being a fan of instant gratification, I called him at work.

Me: "Hey."

T: "Hey."

"I just heard back from the nurse."

"Yeah?"

"It was positive."

"Huh?"

"IT. WAS. POSITIVE."

"Are you serious??!!"

"YUP!"

(T shrieks and screams like a little girl. He works in an open office environment.)

I don't regret telling him over the phone. It was just what he needed to hear at that exact moment.

Before that day, there were moments when I thought that perhaps we'd never get our little brown baby and that our lives would need to be happy and fulfulling in other ways. I don't regret going through the infertility business. My marriage to and connection with T is stronger because of it. I have an insane amount of empathy for the women who don't get pregnant on the first try. And I have a son who is the result of a ridiculous number of prayers--both mine and others.

I am blessed.

Hercules! Hercules!

While volunteering this morning I stumbled across this book, "How to teach your baby to be physically superb." I was kind of intrigued and then a little scared and then I snort laughed. I mean, E is doing pretty well--but he's four months old! What else can he do but gnaw on his hands and sometimes grab his feet if they happen to appear out of nowhere? And the phrase "physically superb"? That kind of brings to mind an army of ridiculously fit infants crawling towards world domination.

Anyway, I cracked it open and it provided pictures of this couple (Maurice and Lola) swinging their baby (Stefan) by one arm and one leg. Hmmm. I thought this was bad for Baby. Maybe by "physically superb" he really means "physically unable to use right side of body." Buy, hey--what do I know?

And why be so physically superb when you can be this cute?

(Oh, and this guy also writes this one and this one. Crikey)