Are babies addictive?

Today's Post is Sponsored by the Number 3!

In June 2005, the Big Dubya and I welcomed our first son (known here as the 'lil Dubya). Of course I knew my life would change, but I'm not sure I could have ever imagined how much I would love this little person.

When he was about four or five months old, I started to get the itch.... I was ready to have another baby. The Big Dubya thought I was out of my mind..... he was still reeling from the trauma of the 'lil man's arrival -- but it didn't take long for him to agree that it was time to start trying for our second and final child. He told me repeatedly "there will be no number three" and even though I'm not sure I meant it, I said that was fine -- we still had no idea how my body would handle pregnancy the second time around. Unlike the first time, we got pregnant right out of the gate -- the 'lil man was 8 months old.

In November 2006, we welcomed our first daughter (known here as the 'lil Dubyette). We did encounter some complications, but.... they were managed very closely and her delivery was fairly uneventful. Again, I knew my life would have to change in order to juggle a newborn and a toddler -- but I had no idea the joy and happiness this little person would add to our lives.

Once again, when she was four or five months -- I started to wanting to try for a third. I know, I know -- I must have a screw loose. I really hoped that it was just hormones and that it would pass -- but it hasn't. The Big Dubya has made his feelings pretty clear, he wants to be done. We even posted some of the pro/con arguments that have been bandied about here.

Cognitively, the arguments against a number three are many..... our ages, our financial situation, our house, the two gorgeous and healthy children we already have..... I know that being done is a good answer, being done makes sense, we have the perfect little family..... so, why do I still ache for a third? Why do I look at the 'lil Dubya & 'lil Dubyette playing together and wish they had another baby brother or sister to grow up with?

I'm only half-joking when I ask.... Am I a junky? Do I have a problem? Do I need to go to baby-rehab to get this baby-addiction under control?

The Big Dubya's still against the idea, although I do catch him having the occasional moment of weakness -- and then he asks.... "Okay, so if we have #3, will you want #4?" I honestly don't think so, but I can't say for sure..... I know that if we ever did move forward with #3 that surgical measures would be taken to prevent any further discussion..... granted, I suspect that he'd have me committed at that point anyway, so......

Check us Out!

Our latest post is up at Dad said Mom said.... check it out, okay?

They don't even look alike

I'm terrible with knowing who celebrities are. I mean, I don't watch a ton of TV..... I rarely watch movies..... The Big Dubya tells me that I live under a rock. And, even when I try to be cool and know who is who...... I'm wrong and end up looking even dopier than I am.

For some reason.... I know these people are different..... I know they don't really even look very much alike, yet I still confuse them.

Denise Richards and Amanda Peet -- I know, they don't really look much alike, yet...... I have to ask..... which one is it?

Bernadette Peters.... Pia Zadora.... can't tell one from the other...... not that either of them shows up very often -- but one of them used to be on the Muppet Show from time to time.

Goofy..... Pluto.... Yes, I know -- one can talk and walks upright..... I still can't tell them apart -- the 'lil Dubya says "oofy" and points -- I never know if he's right or not.... let's face it, he probably is.... he's two and he gets it.

The NYPD Blues guys.... the one from Silver Spoons and the one from Saved By The Bell They are both cute, former child-stars..... sometimes I can tell which one it is..... but not always.

Okay, in some cases it's not completely my fault..... I mean, there are some that just look alike the guy that played Ira on Mad About You..... he really did look like Jack's friend Larry on Three's Company.

And today, there was a guy on Sesame Street that I really thought was Blair Underwood.... The Big Dubya says that it was really Wayne Brady

I'm hopeless

Diet, Diet, Diet

Yeah, so.... like Aunt P, I've been a bad, bad girl and am desperately trying to get back onto the diet bandwagon in anticipation of a family gathering in Ireland.... 2½ short weeks from now.... and a trip to CA in August.

Yesterday, I was chatting with a woman I work with.... she's overweight -- more so than I.... not really fat mind you -- but she could drop 20lbs and look fantastic. I've really only got 10-12 lbs to lose..... and it's kicking my ass.

Anyway, she mentioned reading about this new diet pill that's out..... and how she was considering it because it was FDA approved, but changed her mind because the side effects are a bit scary. So, over lunch -- I checked out the website..... not really sure why, but I did.

Okay, so..... let me get this straight -- you want me to give you $49.99 for some diet pills that might make me shit myself? Sorry to be crude, but..... oh my GAWD!

I only wish I was kidding.... one of the "treatment effects" is listed here as

"more frequent stools that may be hard to control"

Oh, are you wondering what they recommend to combat this "treatment effect"???? C'mon... you are dying to know what they recommend, you know you are, right?

How about:

"You may feel an urgent need to go to the bathroom. Until you have a sense of any treatment effects, it's probably a smart idea to wear dark pants, and bring a change of clothes with you to work"

and

"You may not usually get gassy, but it's a possibility when you take alli. The bathroom is really the best place to go when that happens "

So, for $49.99 there's a good chance I might soil myself and I ought to consider carrying around a a spare change of clothes just in case my dark pants aren't enough to hide the mess.

Uhm, yeah -- maybe being fat isn't so bad.

So, how do you handle it when.....

Isn't life kinda strange sometimes?

Like, when your closest friend in the world is dating someone that you don't like..... and that doesn't like you?

You learn to deal with each other..... for your friend's sake and after some time passes, your friend thinks that everything is all better..... and mistakes your tolerance of each other for friendship.

And then they get married.... and you realize that this person isn't going anywhere.

And then you get married and your spouse loves your friend, but can't stand your friend's spouse either.....

Doesn't it just suck?

While I was on the Dunkin Donuts Website Yesterday

I started reviewing the nutritional information listed for some of Dunkin Donuts yummy products..... it's really odd the things you learn.

See, I've been doing Weight Watchers on and off for 6ish years.... so, seeing that I just recently recommitted myself to losing 10 lbs.... I figured I'd see how many points I should record for my iced coffee (1 point). Then I thought, gee..... let's see what I could eat if I wanted to grab some quick breakfast there.

A lowfat muffin (a misnomer if there ever was one) has 400 calories, 5 grams of fat and 3 grams of dietary fiber. That's 8 points in Weight Watcher language -- compared to a regular blueberry muffin which has 470 calories, 17 grams of fat and only 2 grams of dietary fiber.... uhm, yeah -- 10 points people. 10 points!

To give you non-weight-watcher people a frame of reference, someone my size, striving to be in the neighborhood of125 pounds gets 20 points for a whole day! In fairness to Dunkin Donuts, they don't call the muffin "low-fat" they call it "reduced-fat" -- but, still.... doesn't seem like such a bargain to me.

I think I'd more thoroughly enjoy splurging on a honey-dipped (they call them glazed here in CT) donut for 4 points (180 calories, 8 grams of fat and 1 gram of dietary fiber).

Now, maybe it's me being clueless about such matters.... but before I looked all this up.... if you had asked me which would be less offensive to my diet, a reduced fat blueberry muffin or a jelly donut -- I wouldn't have given my answer a second thought.

I would have declared the muffin was the obvious choice, wouldn't you? -- but nope.

A jelly donut has 210 calories, 8 grams of fat and 1 gram of dietary fiber..... or 5 WW Points.

If I ruled the world.... dieting would be easy and beverages and condiments would be calorie free.

Large Iced Coffee, Light with Milk and One Sweet & Low

Isn't it amazing how Dunkin Donuts can make or ruin your morning?

I don't stop every day, but when I want one.... I want one.... and this morning I needed one! So, I stopped at the Dunkin Donuts on my way to work. I ordered my usual and proceeded to drive to the window. The woman tried to hand me a hot coffee -- so I said, "I'm sorry.... I ordered iced coffee" -- the woman was very kind and said she'd get me an iced coffee right away. She came back and handed me a medium iced coffee.... I ordered a large, but I didn't want to be THAT high maintenance, so I just took it.

It was terrible.... it wasn't light, and it kinda tasted burnt..... so sad..... I didn't even finish it.

Oh well.... these things happen I suppose.

By the way, I'm sure she's super nice -- but hello..... YOU ARE SOOOO OVEREXPOSED!

Cheers!

So, the 'lil Dubya must have seen us doing it while we were on vacation.... 'cause now he walks around with his sippy-cup slamming it into whatever we happen to be drinking and exclaiming CHEERS! with a little British accent (yes, I'm not sure how or why..... but he's got a bit of a British accent).

It's very, very cute.

Growing up, we had a neighbor and every evening at 5:00 or 5:30 -- she'd announce "Cocktail Time!" and she'd fix everyone a drink.

It didn't necessarily have to be an alcoholic drink -- the kids would get apple juice, a Shirley Temple or something like that in a cute glass (just to make it special) -- she and her husband might have a glass of wine, a beer or an iced tea or coffee.... whatever the mood called for.

It was just a nice treat in the afternoon -- to sit and have a chat while dinner was coming together.

I really liked her "Cocktail Time" and hoped that I'd institute it in my house when I grew up..... but, I haven't -- yet.

Our house, like so many is crazy hectic in the time between arriving home and sitting down to dinner -- we could probably benefit from a few minutes to catch our breaths and have a cocktail.

Maybe we'll start that tonight....

This topic really came to mind when I read this article about underage drinking. The article itself bothers me on a few levels.... primarily because this is important stuff and I think the article fails to discuss the real issue. Instead, they dial it in and take the easy way out..... dealing with extremes and absolutes -- not even acknowledging the grayer areas.

Here's what I mean -- the family they use as examples are the EXTREME -- I mean, Mr & Mrs Bonehead went and bought booze for their 16-year old son's birthday and let him & his friends get hammered on their watch -- and now they are shocked to be going to jail. How is this the sole basis for a story about underage drinking in the home? These people gave booze to other people's kids? They let these kids get hammered in their home -- and think they a trophy because they didn't let the kids drive home after.

The article goes on to discuss the physiological repercussions of children who drink too much -- again, a very narrow view of teens who are allowed to drink at home.

Let me be clear, I was not allowed to drink at home when I was a teen -- I was almost 30 before I felt comfortable having a beer in front of my mother (I still feel like I get the evil eye when I drink in front of her) -- and I do not condone the behavior of these parents or any who would think to throw their 16 year old a keg party.

However, these are not the only plausible scenarios -- it's not necessarily an all (your kid gets shitfaced at home every weekend) or nothing (no alcohol is allowed in the house ever) matter.

Growing up, we were allowed to have a half a glass of champagne to participate in a celebratory wedding toast -- I think that's okay.

We were allowed to have a half a glass a wine at Christmas dinner -- again, I think that's okay.

My parents would never have dreamed of offering alcohol to one of our friends -- that is never okay. They would not have allowed us to get hammered or out of control -- again, not okay ever.

I've posted my thoughts on alcohol consumption in front of children here before.... and I took some heat for it -- oh well. But, isn't the best way to teach your children about responsible behavior (regarding alcohol or anything else) -- by setting a responsible example?

Instant Gratification

Okay, so I posted about our recent home improvement projects.... that quickly catapulted out of control. Of course, when you've got a new room.... you need new furniture, right? Uh-huh.

So, we went and we shopped and shopped and shopped some more to find a couch that was practical, reasonably priced and nice, but not too nice (we do have two kids with chronically sticky hands, dontcha know).

In order to get what we wanted, we had to special order it..... yeah of course we did, and wait EIGHT WEEKS!

So, for the past couple of months, the Big Dubya's had to watch his 40th birthday present on a folding chair (sometimes he lets me sit on the chair and he sits on the floor, see -- chivalry is not dead) -- instead of the plush comfort he's been dreaming of..... it's a little ghetto, but he's managed okay.

Today, we got the call..... the furniture is in and ready to be delivered -- Can I hear a hallelujah and an AMEN!

But, they can't deliver it 'til Tuesday..... TUESDAY? What the f*ck?

This is a company that advertises same-day-delivery. So, just so I've got it straight, I can go pick out a couch they have in stock and have it in a few hours, but the one that I've been waiting close to 8 weeks for is going to take until Tuesday????

I WANT IT NOW!

It's a brotherhood we just don't understand

Last week, The Big Dubya and I along with Aunt P and her husband went out for a lovely dinner to celebrate Aunt P's birthday.

While we were sitting at the bar enjoying some cocktails and terrific Irish music, the Big Dubya whispered something to me that I've heard him say many, many times before.

"There's a soldier".

I don't know why I still ask... he's always right, but as usual I asked him how he could tell from all the way across the room.

This time it was a rucksack parked discreetly at his feet, other times it's been a haircut, a key chain, a tee-shirt, a patch on a jacket or an overheard word or phrase...... things I would have never noticed, but a former soldier would never miss.

And, as has happened many times before -- the Big Dubya hopped off his stool and said, "I'm going to go buy him a beer" and he went over, introduced himself, thanked him for his service and bought him a beer. Sometimes these exchanges last just a few minutes -- this particular one was probably close to a half hour -- and they almost always end in a handshake this time it was a hug.

The soldier we met last Monday night will soon be heading back to Iraq for his third tour -- and, although sad to be leaving home, he is proud to be going -- he believes in the work he's doing there.

No, this post is not about the war in Iraq or anywhere else for that matter -- so, please refrain from commenting on that today, the anniversary of D-Day.

I am rarely prouder of my husband than when he goes on one of these "beer-buying-missions." Not because he goes off to buy some random guy a beer, because it is so much more than just that. It is his effort to make some small gesture toward a young man who is sacrificing for our nation, our family's safety and well being. It is because he stops and takes time out of our evening to get to know a little bit about a guy who surrenders time with his own family to defend the safety of strangers.

This post is about how the Army takes boys and turns them into men -- and in the case of this soldier and my husband it's about how the Army takes boys and turns them into gentlemen and brothers.

Aunt P noticed the Big Dubya was missing and asked me where he'd gone -- so, I told her and she said "Oh okay, does he do that often?" to which I responded "Yeah he does, it's a brotherhood we just don't understand"

May God Bless all of our military men & women.

Fashion Emergency

So, while we were in Disney last week -- Aunt P declared that I am a fashion tragedy and that her new mission was to break me of my scrunchy habit.... I'm guessing that the Mommy jeans are next.

Apparently, scrunchies are SOOO YESTERDAY that I'm an embarrassment to pony-tails everywhere.

I've never claimed to be fashion-forward, but are scrunchies really such a faux pas? I mean, it's not like I'm using one of these or these I like scrunchies -- the go in easy, they come out easy.... yes, some of the ones I have..... were purchased while I was in high school or college -- but others are newer.

Well, fine -- Aunt P will be glad to know that I went out and got some of these this weekend.... UGH... it's pretty pathetic when even your pony tail is out of date.

How is it possible?

My 'lil man turns two today........ every time I look at him I get a lump in my throat, overcome by how happy he's made us and how much love, laughter and joy he's brought to our lives.

Happy Birthday 'lil man -- no little boy has ever been loved more than you!