It's that time again

So, my task for this weekend is to capture a photo of my children for our Christmas card.... sounds easy, right? Ummmmm No

I'm not sure how exactly I'm going to accomplish this -- getting the 'lil man to sit still for a photo is difficult enough, but throw in the 'lil lady at a ripe old age of 11 days and I'm not sure what the hell this photo is going to look like.

Last year, I took well over 100 snaps of the 'lil man (thank God for digital cameras) in various poses before I found one that was somewhat decent -- the project took 6 days!

This year, I've got to try to get a photo of the two of them together -- a bonus would be if the 'lil man wasn't trying to squish the 'lil lady's head..... his version of a hug.

If anyone has any clever posing ideas..... bring 'em on. Last year, I wrapped a Crate & Barrel box and placed the 'lil man in it with blankets & tissue paper...... this was very helpful as he couldn't 100% sit up on his own yet -- man, the difference a year makes!

To increase the pressure.... hubby is doing his blogsphere holiday mantle again..... how bad would it look if we have a crappy card???? now I've got performance anxiety.... UGHHH

Wish me luck

Special Guest Blogger

The following is an email I received from Aunt P.......

From:  Aunt P
Sent: Monday, November 27, 2006 2:53 PM
To: Mrs Big Dubya
Subject:Damn them!

So I have two weaknesses.... Peanut butter and brownies....   I'm
walking by the vending machines at work and what do I see but the new
Reese's Brownie -"with Reese's Peanut Butter and Hershey's Chocolate
Chips Topped with a drizzle of Reese's Peanut Butter icing"

So I'm screwed. I Don't even think about walking by it.  Immediately
go into my back pocket for a dollar.   I go get myself a cup of tea
looking forward to the decadency - not even giving a second thought
that I can't manage to stay on a diet for more than 3 seconds...

The only saving grace?  My only redemption?  It's not very good.  It's
actually not good at all.  I'm going to throw it out.  I just threw it
out and for me, throwing out a brownie is huge.  This was probably the
best .90 cents I've ever spent because you now I'd be dreaming about
it all day if I didn't get it.  Ok.  Crisis averted.

Somehow it makes me feel better about still having baby weight to lose!

Did you hear something?

The Big Dubya's going to post about this..... he's got a much larger audience (especially here) and will likely be far wittier than I, but..... in the off chance someone out there reads me.... and not him..... and can offer up a suggestion..... here it goes.

Many moons ago, I posted this -- about our struggles with finding a baby monitor that would A) work and B) would not require us to mortgage our house in order to buy.

The monitor we have has been working pretty well -- but, now we need a monitor with two monitors and at least 2 (preferably 3) receivers. Princess Dubyette (still not sure what I'm going to be calling her here) is currently sleeping in a bassinette in our room.... but at some point, she'll be in her own room and the 'lil man is still in his room -- hence, we need two monitors in order to eavesdrop on both of them and receivers for our room, the kitchen and ideally for the basement (assuming we get around to finishing it).

I thought a workable solution would be to purchase another monitor (same model) and set it to the same channel to the set we already have -- but no..... rather than working together in harmony, they interfere with each other and emit a high pitched tone that brings the neighbors' dogs running.

The Big Dubya says that his internet research indicates that the only product out there that will meet our needs are video monitors -- this seems a bit crazy to me.

Does anyone have a monitor that they'd like to recommend???

As you may have heard.....

Yes, we have a perfect little girl.....

Thanks so much to everyone who's commented on the Big Dubya's site or sent us messages -- the kindness shown to us by people we hardly know has been overwhelming and heartwarming.

The delivery on Friday went really well -- such a different experience from the last time! The whole day produced lots material for future posts -- if you are itching for a preview...... let's just say that our pediatrician is a die-hard Yankees fan, whereas the Dubyas and the OB/GYN are RedSox fans...... the O.R. banter was lively!

The 'lil Dubya is adjusting well so far..... he's having more trouble with the fact that I can't pick him up than he is with having a little sister -- so far, he thinks she's pretty cool -- shrieking out BAAAYYYYBEEEEEE whenever he sees her.

I'll write more later..... but for now, thank-you, thank-you, thank-you for all the kind wishes and support -- it's so very much appreciated.

Let's take a break from all the baby waiting posts....

Yeah, I've got a dr's apt this afternoon -- two of them actually, but..... for now, let's go on baby- waiting hiatus, shall we? I think we need the break...

I am not a "reality TV" fan..... I've never seen an episode of Survivor, I've never watched American Idol..... but for some reason, I find Dancing with the Stars to be very entertaining. I started watching one day when the 'lil man was small -- ABC Family ran a marathon of the first season and I got hooked -- I've even got the Big Dubya watching now -- granted, he's watching because of me.... and might not watch if I wasn't around, but as he puts it -- the women.... well, they aint hard to look at.

Anyway, lately the recently ousted contestant Monique Coleman has been on all the talk shows.... Larry King, The View, etc. I didn't care for Monique much when she was on the show -- I thought she was a bit too full of herself -- always going on and on about how her routines were harder and had more complexity than those of the other contestants and how the judges were harder on her than the others....Blah, blah, blah...... I mean, seriously -- you are 26 years old..... competing against 62 year old Jerry Springer..... give me a break! Even when she was given good feedback by the judges, she managed to be less than gracious.

On these talk shows, she got worse -- she went on to say that the hardest part of being on the show was protecting her image -- apparently she considers herself a "role model" to millions of young women and she needed to make sure she wasn't projecting anything negative.

HUH? a role model? I wanted to smack her and let her know that she's been famous for 4½ minutes..... a role model? Does she know she's sitting next to the legendary Emmitt Smith -- an actual role model, who managed to be a gentleman and a good sport without proclaiming himself a role model?

Is that how it works now.... you say you are a role model and POOF you become one?

Okay -- so let's move on..... because I'm kinda curious now.

What part of her image was she "protecting" -- HMMMMM,

She seemed like a sore loser to me when she complained that her dances were harder and that her scores didn't reflect that.....

She seemed like a show-off when she insisted on doing some sort of solo dance at the beginning of one of her numbers.....

She seemed a bit immodest when she donned really revealing costumes..... in fairness, all the costumes are on the skimpy side and that's fine, but...... if she was really worried about young girls, isn't that an area where she could choose to make a statement? -- maybe opt to cover-up a bit more than the others?

I'm wondering -- What exactly did ABC ask her to do that she felt wasn't consistent with this precious "image" she's dreamed up for herself.

Slip of the tongue?

So..... our pregnancy saga continues.

Thankfully, everything is okay. We went for an ultrasound yesterday (the doctor's office variety, not the Tom & Katie kind) and from what could be seen..... the 'liller Dubya is healthy and a good size -- indicating that my high blood pressure has not had any adverse effects.

Of course, this is a huge load off of our minds and now we just wait...... and wait...... and wait some more.

I go back to the doctor tomorrow for some more tests....... but, even if something happens..... we are past 37 weeks and it looks like the baby is fine to be delivered...... so, all together now.... PHEW!

I couldn't help but notice, the doctor saying "his" when showing us the tiny diaphragm pulsating...... the Big Dubya picked up on it too. He's a pretty "old school" type doctor -- so, he may have just been generalizing..... he's done that before, he's explained to me that he does that so as to not let the cat out of the bag -- but yesterday, there was no disclaimer, no explanation...... he just said "his" did he forget we don't konw what we are having?

In any event, I think this is the first time in weeks that I've even considered that this baby could be a boy. I mean, people have been telling me..... and I mean everybody from the woman at the cafeteria at work, the old ladies at Stop & Shop, Aunt P, everybody.... for months that this baby is a girl. I'm not sure if it's the power of persuasion or the constant repetition, but I had just kind of bought into the belief that this baby's a girl.... and now, the doctor says "his" at the ulatrasound..... is this anohter 'lil boy?

I've said it all along -- it would be wonderful to have another little boy..... the 'lil Dubya would have a baby brother, a best friend..... I already have all the boy "stuff"..... it would be great. Then again, a little girl would be nice too -- it would be different, we'd have one of each..... every baby is a blessing -- so, I honestly do not care what it is....... as long as he/she's happy and healthy..... and who are we kidding????.... a good sleeper would certainly sweeten the deal.

Oh well, time will tell

Stay tuned!

It's a shame the doctor's office doesn't have a frequent flier program

So, yesterday morning I got to go back to the doctor AGAIN.... yes, I'm going every third day now. This was to be my usual weekly appointment -- you may recall that at my regularly scheduled appointment last Friday, my blood pressure was too high and it kicked off a series of blood work and quite a bit of stealth peeing. I got to visit the office again on Tuesday, and although my blood pressure was still too high, it had stabilized somewhat..... putting us in a holding pattern and that brings us to yesterday.

Well, yesterday's reading was the highest they've seen to date (well, for this pregnancy anyway -- I'm still quite a bit away from the 250/167 reading that kicked off the 'lil Dubya's birth via emergency c-section 17 months ago). So, I got to head to the hospital for yet another panel of blood work (okay guys, I'm starting to feel like a pincushion) and I'm having an ultrasound and fetal stress test at 8:00 Monday morning. I've been instructed to continue checking my BP every few hours and to report to the hospital if there are any notable spikes... of course, I had to wonder what the doctor was thinking when he said "so, I'll see you Monday -- if not sooner" He tends to be one of those strong silent types, so I had to wonder if he's just assuming I won't last 'til Monday...... or if it was a lame attempt at humor. I guess we'll know soon enough.

My "official" due date is December 2nd, (3 weeks from today)..... so, I consider myself extremely fortunate that the baby is almost full term and could be safely delivered any time now if necessary -- there are lots of people who have this kind of thing happen much earlier in their pregnancies and therefore, there babies are in jeopardy...... so, it's really snarky of me to be making light of the situation..... But, good God all this uncertainty is stressful. I mean, every time I go to the doctor's office I have to wonder..... "Is this the time they tell me to go to the hospital? is this the day they tell me I have to stop going to work?"

Granny (my mother) calls every day to ask how I'm feeling and if I'm "puffed", because when I had toxemia & HELLP syndrome with my last pregnancy, the condition was accompanied by a severe case of swelling..... I'm talking about some serious bloat! So, she has to inquire every f*ing day about my level of "puffiness". But, let's be serious people, when you're 9 mos pregnant you are gonna retain some fluid and look a bit puffy..... that's just the way it goes!

Aunt P is going to come help out with the 'lil man when I finally go to the hospital.... so she's now driving around with her overnight bag in her car -- just in case she needs to get here in a hurry. And, like everyone else -- every time I go to the doctor, she's surprised that I really have no new delivery-date-related information to report..... just more tests for me..... and we'll see what happens.

So, we wait......

By the way -- WE STILL HAVE NO NAMES!

Election Day Reflections

No folks, this isn't the typical political rant -- so, don't turn away just yet.....

I was feeling like I was in a blogging funk..... hmmmm, what to post about..... lately, all I've done is complain, bitch and moan about being nine months pregnant -- big and awkward with high blood pressure. People are kind, but they'll only read that kind of stuff for so long (no matter how wittily written) before they label you a whiner and start reading somebody else.

I've been tagged for a couple of memes -- and I will, I promise, I will post those -- once I can string together some coherent thoughts.... I'm always paranoid that my answers will disappoint people..... the truth is, I'm pretty boring..... answering all those questions may let the cat out of the bag. So in the meantime, Insurance Mom gave me an idea -- so, here it goes.

A lot of families have things that they do together..... you've heard the saying "the family that prays together, stays together" or some derivation of it..... growing up, there was always that family in the neighborhood that had "movie night" or some other activity that they all did together -- I always thought it was nice.

My family...... well, ours was a bit different -- we always voted together.

My parents are immigrants, they came here from Ireland in the late 1960s -- my mother became a citizen in the early '70s, but my Dad didn't take his oath until I was in high school (yes, he was a LEGAL alien for close to 20 years). It would have been a cool thing to see -- your Dad being sworn in as an American citizen..... but he wouldn't let us go with him -- instead, he went by himself -- he maintained that it was a very personal thing and didn't want/need an audience.... he's an odd duck.... I'm still disappointed that we didn't get to see it.

Being naturalized citizens, my parents take voting very seriously -- we'll ignore the fact that they always get reprimanded for going into each other's booth in a desperate attempt to recollect who'd they'd decided to vote for for park commissioner. They love being Americans and consider it one of the greatest choices that they made for their children..... they chose to build their lives here.

So as it happened, in 1992 -- my Dad and I were able to vote in our first presidential election together. My parents and I trotted off to the polls -- and so the tradition began. A couple of years later, Aunt P joined -- and then uncle Ro-ro. For a while, we used to vote before work.... then, when Uncle Ro-ro turned 21 -- we'd go vote and then hit the pub for a pint.

The election monitors (old ladies that check your ID) always remarked how lovely it was that we always arrived to vote together. It was a nice tradition, and now that I live in another state.... it's one that I miss.

I voted on my way to the doctor's office yesterday morning -- I wanted to make sure that I had voted.... just in case the doctor had baby-delivery plans for me (he didn't) -- I didn't want to miss my chance. On my way out, some kid holding a sign thanked me for voting -- it kind of seemed absurd to me. Voting is a privilege -- people fight and die for this privilege -- in some countries, women aren't allowed to vote -- wouldn't it be disrespectful not to vote?

I'm no fan of politics..... too much time, energy and way too much money is spent on ridiculous campaigns -- money that could be spent on feeding people, teaching children to read and on curing disease -- but, democracy is beautiful -- it's flawed of course, but beautiful and the only way to make change is to vote.

Thud!

That was me hopping off my soapbox!

Today's update..... it's just pissa

So, as previously reported..... I went to the doctor this morning. It was to be a routine pre-natal check up -- those who've been there know the drill...... they listen to the heartbeat, you get weighed (UGH, that's the worst!!) and measured.... you get your blood pressure and urine checked, and then you make an appointment for next week and are sent on your merry way.

Well.... that is unless you've got a history of HELLP syndrome and your blood pressure is running higher than it should be.... then the visit becomes a tiny bit less routine.

To begin with, you get sent to the lab for a "precautionary" full panel of bloodwork.... your next appointment isn't next week, it's Tuesday..... so they can re-check your blood pressure. You get strict instructions to report to the hospital immediately if your blood pressure (which you are now checking at home several times a day) exceeds a certain level and you are given a prescription for Albustix -- strips that enable you to monitor the proteins found in your urine at home.

You also learn that if your condition continues to "deteriorate" you may have to have an amnio and possibly have the baby delivered early. Well HOOOORAAAAYYYY -- if my BP wasn't up already, it sure was after hearing all that.

Okay, there is no benefit in stressing over any of this -- just take it easy and see what happens, right? Yeah, easier said than done -- but we're working on it.

So, the Big Dubya picks up my RX for me..... apparently, these strips are over-the-counter, so my insurance won't cover them -- meaning that it's not a $10 co-pay, I've got to cough up the full retail price of $47.79 -- kind of absurd to drop $50 on tiny pieces of paper I'm just going to pee on, but hey, what are you gonna do?

Here is where things get really stupid..... the directions that come with these very expensive and soon to be peed on strips. I mean, I'm one of these people that think having directions on a shampoo bottle is absurd -- but these, these directions take the cake.

Directions: 1. Dip reagent end of strip in FRESH, well-mixed, uncentrifuged urine and remove immediately. (Alternatively, wet reagent area of the strip by passing through urine stream.)

Mrs Big Dubya's commentary: UMMMMMM, did we need to capitalize FRESH? And, while we are on the word "FRESH".... what do other people do? keep stale cups of urine just lying around? and what do they it mean by well-mixed? like swish it around in the cup? or am I supposed to pee into a blender? and did they really need to exclude centrifuged urine? I mean, doesn't everyone run their pee through a centrifuge????

I'm not going to subject you all to the remaining steps included in these directions..... other than to let you know that there's some great advice on how "to prevent possible soiling of hands with urine". Apparently, there are lots of people who can't manage to dip a piece of paper into a cup of urine without soiling themselves.

I had also hoped to get my c-section appointment this morning -- but given recent developments, they are going to hold off scheduling it until they know my blood pressure is under control.....

So, how was your day?

Try not to panic folks...

Okay -- so here we are...... 30 days away from our official due date of December 2nd..... and it's hard not to be a little on edge.

To begin with, the 'lil Dubya was delivered 5 weeks early -- hence, I've never been 36 weeks pregnant before...... so all the apprehension reserved for first-timers rests firmly on me now as I await the arrival of #2. The night the 'lil man arrived.... I didn't know what was going to happen to me -- I went to the hospital with chest pains for God's sake -- a baby? I wasn't going to have a baby -- I was gonna get laughed at by a bunch of L&D nurses, given some antacid and sent home..... at least that's what I thought. Once we were there I quickly learned I'd be staying a few days -- that's when the drugs kicked in and it all gets blurry.

This go around, we are getting "scheduled". It sounds so ridiculous..... I mean, I'm not one of those people that wants to "pencil-in" the birth of my child. I didn't want to go the c-section route again -- the recovery is long and painful and although I know doing it the old fashioned way is no picnic, it's also not major abdominal surgery. But, given all the crap that happened the last time -- every doctor I've spoken to (and there have been many) has advised me not to risk it -- so, tomorrow morning I go to the doctor and I'll be given my "appointment" which will eventually convert to my child's birthday.

Now, here's where the wrinkle lies..... my due date is Saturday, December 2nd. The doctor's office tends to schedule deliveries for one-week-prior to the due date -- but, being a Saturday -- that puts us at Friday, November 25th...... yeah, it's the day after Thanksgiving. The doctor said he'd have to see what the schedule was like -- but if it's not the day after Thanksgiving and they back it up a few days..... does that mean I'm spending my Thanksgiving in the hospital?? I mean, it really doesn't matter to me -- it's not exactly my favorite holiday and what better to be thankful for than a new baby, but..... gee whiz..... Thanksgiving in the hospital..... not really what I imagined.

Oh well, I suppose we'll find out tomorrow -- won't we?

So, there I am standing in WalMart with a palm full of vomit...

Okay, it's been printed here on more than one occasion that I have some snobby tendencies and that, in general, I don't like people.

So, if I have to go to a place like WalMart on a weekend, it's very likely that I'll do it first thing in the morning.... like when they first open -- simply so I can avoid "the element" and the frustration that they cause me. At 7:00 am the store is relatively empty and I can get in and out without wanting to open up a social services kiosk.

Look, I think people should be able to raise their kids anyway they want (within reason of course), and I'm sure that my parenting tactics may seem odd to some..... however...... if they want to tell their whining toddler to "shut the fuck up" I would prefer that I not be subjected to it -- because in my tiny little mind using that kind of language in that kind of tone is abuse and I don't want to bear witness to such behavior.

So, the 'lil man and I headed to WalMart this morning -- I needed to get the Halloween candy and a couple of other items. We got there and he was in a great mood -- he got a real kick out of running from the car to the store in the rain. He loves to smile at all the shoppers & employees -- and in someway it's nice that he's able to make their day -- because he really is enough to turn their "I'm at WalMart at 7:00am" scowl into a smile.

He's been teething something fierce the past few days -- he's cutting some really big molars and as a result, he puts everything in his mouth -- this time, it was his entire fist in an effort to let his little fingers massage his gums. Then I heard it.... poor 'lil guy gagged himself and it started to erupt. It's instinct I guess..... you cup your hand and you try to catch it...... but then what? The parenting books do not cover this..... he's startled and has vomit all done his jacket and you've only got one free hand to deal with and/or contain the mess.

In some ways, being in WalMart is a blessing -- where better than a place that sells the cleaning supplies? So, I headed for the paper towels -- and then thought "NO, Mrs Big Dubya -- use your head..... this is a job for babywipes!" I won't even start in on how I'm awed by our parents who raised us in a pre-baby wipe era...... so I went to the baby aisle and busted open a package of baby wipes. We were able to get ourselves back to a presentable condition, grabbed the candy and got back on the road home.........

Such is Saturday morning in casa Dubya....

Don't believe the hype

About a month…maybe six weeks ago…. I got an email from Aunt P – she’d gotten wind of a survey that if you filled it out, you could get a free Senseo machine.

Of course I laughed at her and told her that she’d been sold a bill of goods – those things are always a farce. Initially she thought the same thing, but upon completion of the survey, she got notification that she qualified for the free machine and that it was being shipped. Additionally, Mr. Tall Guy also qualified – his machine was also on its way. I’d had no experience with Senseo, but I’d heard great things about the Tassimo and Keurig machines – so I assumed this would be just as good….. I figured what the heck, I’ll fill out the survey too. And, for good measure – I forwarded it to the Big Dubya too.

A few days later, I had heard nothing – but the Big Dubya received notification that he qualified and that his free coffee machine had shipped. I’m not so sure what the hell is wrong with me…. Did I not answer the questions well???? Why was I the only one of the four of us that didn’t warrant a free coffee machine. I won’t pretend that I wasn’t upset – I was – but at least we were getting one…. And it was free.

It’s a very convenient and clever concept – brew just the amount of coffee you want….. fresh, when you want it – no clean up – I like it. I told the Big Dubya that if we were really pleased and found that we got good use of it – maybe we would upgrade to one of the higher-end brands (Tassimo/Keurig)….. but this would be a great way to determine whether or not this set up was for us.

Well, the Big Dubya’s coffee machine arrived with some sample coffee – let me tell you, to say that the coffee tasted like ass would be generous. I could have gotten more enjoyment out of a cup of the ‘lil Dubya’s bathwater. The Big Dubya and I assumed that it must just be that they sent us bad sample coffee….. but no, we tried other flavors…. Vienna, Cappuccino, Paris…… to put it simply they all just sucked.

I checked with Aunt P….. she said her coffee sucked too – but if you put a tea bag in, it does yield a decent cup of tea. And her machine was BLUE..... and Mr Tall Guys was BLACK..... at least ours was an inconspicuous white. I’m wondering if this is the company’s sly way of getting people to by their crap coffee….. send them a free machine in an obnoxious color and then send them out to buy all the various coffee pods in a desperate attempt to get it to produce something decent.... or at least drinkable.

I dunno….. at least it was free…. And, now I don’t feel so bad about not getting one anymore.

Give ‘em an inch, and they’ll take…….

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know – I asked for it.

A week or so ago, I was corresponding with the Big Dubya’s famous (infamous?) best-bud (known here in blogland as 39).

See, I have a theory that every “married with child(ren)” type guy has a 39 in his life. 39’s the guy who’s been with you since grade school…. seen you through thick & thin…… he’s one of the family. He’s the guy that hasn’t settled down (hell, he may never settle down), and he manages to simultaneously make you long for your "young and frisky" days while also making you really, really grateful that those days are behind you.

Anyway, 39 mentions this other guy (who I am not a fan of by the way) is having a “fire on Saturday night”… it sounds kind of dastardly I know, but I know what he means. I gently reminded him that by the time Saturday night rolls around I’ll be 35½ weeks pregnant so, although I really appreciate the info…. I’m clearly not going to partake in the festivities (despite the fact that I really do need a break) – but, hmmmmmm it might be nice to let the Big Dubya cut loose for the night. It’ll be a while before he gets the chance again, and he hasn’t seen these guys in a while…… 39 then reminds me that most wives don’t think this way…. and that my husband is a lucky guy.... I like being known as the "cool wife" -- kinda stupid, I know -- but I like being the one that is low-maintenance and reasonable.... that is, of course, until it bites me in the ass and being "low-maintenance" translates into feeling "neglected, forgotten and taken for granted".

So, at 2:00 on Saturday afternoon the Big Dubya packed his bag and headed off to his party in the woods. My only request was that he kept his cell phone on and accessible….as, I’m 35½ weeks pregnant and home alone (168.7 miles away from “the fire”) with a slightly under-the-weather 16 month old… if I need to get a hold of him in a hurry, I don’t want to be calling all over creation trying to track him down.

You knew it was going to happen (no, thankfully not labor)…. Sometime around 5:30, Granny called to ask if the Big Dubya was going to be eating dinner with them….. they were going out to eat and didn’t want to leave without him, but they also didn’t want to wait if he wasn’t coming. I had no idea what his dinner plans were…… so I called his cell phone....

YEP, I GOT VOICEMAIL!

In fairness, he was visiting his parents and cell phone coverage at Nana & Papa Dubya’s house isn’t so good – so, it’s fine that I got voicemail……. But, I got no return phone call…. There was a vague text message sometime close to 7:00 saying that he arrived safe, but I didn’t get a return phone call.

It wasn’t until 10:00am on SUNDAY that I finally heard from him.

There was no call to see how the ‘lil man was doing…..

There was no, “Hey honey, I’m about to get plowed on micro-brews and Cuban cigars…. so if you need me to come home, better say so now while I can still drive…” call

No, there was no call at all...... nothing.....

Maybe it's the hormones....... I dunno........ it's not even that I'm mad....'cuz I'm not really..... his going to the damn fire was my idea in the first place, but my feelings are pretty hurt.

Shouldn't he have wanted to check-in on us? How is it possible that even good guys fuck-up the easy stuff, huh?

What's more fun than taking your very active 16-month old son to the gynecologist?

How about finding out that your husband took the stroller out of your car (and didn't put it back of course) and realizing that you have no way to restrain the child while you are being examined.

Thank God those urine sample cups are fun to play with!

Happy Friday

It looks like it won't be us...

Yep folks, it appears that the 'liller Dubya will not be the 300 millionth American.... oh well.

The experts refer to it as "nesting"

I on the other hand, think that "freaking the fuck out" is a far better... and more accurate description.

For weeks now, I've been threatening to get all the 'lil Dubya's baby stuff out..... bassinette, bouncy seat, gender-neutral onsies & stretchy suits..... and get it all washed (in Dreft of course) and ready for the arrival of the 'liller Dubya. I asked the Big Dubya to bring the storage bins up from the basement.... and he said he would, when he had a chance.

Well, on Friday -- I went to my regularly scheduled doctor's apt and the doctor noticed my BP was slightly elevated.... no, not high -- no, not dangerous -- no, nothing to worry about..... weight was fine, labs were fine. But, given my history.... he advised that we step up to a weekly schedule and that if I find myself experiencing any type of discomfort -- I shouldn't even bother to call the office -- just go to the hospital and get hooked up to a monitor -- better safe than sorry. No problem...... I've got a BP cuff at home..... I'll keep an eye on it too.

On the ride home it occurred to me that I'm about a week away from where I was when I delivered the 'lil man...... and holy shit, nothing's done. Worse than that -- our house looks like a crime scene. If I were to go into to the hospital to deliver, people would be coming.....to visit, to help w/ the 'lil man...... they can't see this place like this.

I went home and got to work.... I took apart the swing, the bouncy seat, the car seat -- all has now been washed. I cleaned out the 'lil man's closet.... making room for the new-baby stuff that is now making it's way to the washer (my Maytag is getting a workout this weekend). I've started packing my hospital bag -- last time it was all so sudden, there was no bag packed.... and ladies, you have no idea what you'll get if you let your husband just bring you stuff when you are in the hospital........ beer tee-shirt from college was on the list!

As a result of all this panic -- we're in better shape. Don't get me wrong..... we are not "there" yet, but we're getting there.......

I did notice that the woman who just moved in across the street has a cleaning lady come.... something I've been threatening to do for years. I keep saying that I'll hire somebody as soon as I get the house clean enough to let her in to see it.......... hence, nobody's been hired yet -- but we are getting closer. I'm getting serious though, it's even on my Christmas list this year -- I'd love it if someone would just hire me a cleaning service...... Hint, Hint, Hint..... is this thing on?

A bit cranky today....

Not sure why it bothers me, but it really does.......

This morning Granny (my mother) called and got me even more aggravated than I was to begin with. She began the conversation inquiring as to whether or not the Big Dubya had returned from his business trip (the second out-of-state stint in two weeks). I let her know that he had..... then she started singing the praises of the Big Dubya..... it must have been terrible while he was gone..... he's so good, he does so much..... Gee, ya think? Yes, it's harder to manage the 'lil man on my own -- particularly because I'm 8months pregnant -- it's really just the little things that become a challenge.... bending over to give him a bath, carrying him up the stairs -- but, we managed..... lots of women do it all by themselves all the time.

Here's my question -- and probably the line of thinking that makes me an ungrateful bitch..... as, I know that my husband is probably better than most, but......

We BOTH work full-time, we BOTH have demanding jobs...... why shouldn't he do stuff around the house and why shouldn't he be partly responsible for caring for our child (soon to be children). I mean, WE BOTH agreed to buy the house..... WE BOTH prefer to live in a clean house rather than basking in our own filth..... WE BOTH agreed to have children....

But, let's get excessively picking and note my specific and deliberate word-choice here..... because I think it's telling. I didn't say that he "helps" me -- I said that he's "partly responsible" -- You see, Granny thinks that the Big Dubya "helps" me by participating in these activities.......Hmmmmmm, how is caring for OUR child or sweeping the kitchen floor of OUR house "helping" me?

I don't consider doing the weekly food shopping, paying all the bills, staying on top of all the laundry as "helping" him..... I consider it pulling my weight, doing my share of the work -- yet, when the Big Dubya manages to load the dishwasher -- Granny thinks he deserves some sort of trophy. Why is that? Why is giving the 'lil Dubya a bath or washing his bottles considered doing ME a "favor"?

Anyone able to help me see the light..... cuz, I don't get it?

What's big and awkward and can make grown business men come running?

That would be a pregnant woman going ass-over-tea-kettle in the middle of the office...... in this case, Me!

Yep, I managed to avoid falling down when I was pregnant with the 'lil man -- but I took one hell of a digger last Thursday.

It started off simply -- I was sitting at my desk and decided that I needed a red pen. I got up and made my way to the supply cabinet..... I was in our downtown office for the day, that's where the "good" supplies are kept. I selected the red pen I wanted, grabbed a new yellow highlighter for good measure and began the 50-step-walk back to where I was working.... no rocky or uneven terrain -- just industrial the carpet that you'd find in any office-building.

That's when it happened....... my foot just didn't hit the floor right..... my other foot tried in vain to compensate.... my arms flailed out to all sides looking hopelessly for something to grab onto..... there was nothing..... I was going down....... and I was going down hard.

The thoughts running through my head.... Must twist to other side, must not fall on baby....... and then there I was, laying on the ground. I had managed to avoid falling on my stomach..... in the process I beat the living shit out of both my knees, my hands and my ribs (I think from the freakish twisting-to-avoid-the-belly-motion).

I heard shrieks..... no, they weren't mine. A co-worker witnessed the tail-end of the acrobatic-display and then several others rushed from their offices to see what happened. The pain was excruciating..... but the embarrassment was oh, so much worse. I hopped up and deposited myself back into my chair -- hoping everyone would go away before I started bleeding.....

"I'm fine, I'm fine" I promised them all..... as they stood their pale and ashen. "Really, I swear.... I'm fine" and I was.....

Once everyone finally retreated to their offices, I was able to survey the damage -- skinned palms, skinned knee..... oooohhhhh the beginnings of a really, really ugly bruise. The ribs concerned me the most..... they were the closest thing to the baby..... so, I sat quietly -- and waited....... and then the baby moved and I knew that all was fine.

I think I'm gonna wrap myself in bubble-wrap for the next 6 weeks.

EEEEWWWWWW Gross!

As my stomach churned, I really wanted to stop reading..... but I just couldn't -- it just got grosser and more twisted by the minute.... and I was captivated by these sickos.

Anyway, Mr Nice Guy did it to me, so I'm doing it to you......

http://www.browardpalmbeach.com/Issues/2006-09-28/news/feature_full.html

I wanna know!

Generally, this is a Mommy-Blog..... I say generally because sometimes family/work/life issues manage to slip in. In many cases, being a mother touches these issues too -- but it's just not really the focus of this space or why I began blogging to begin with.

That being said, today's post is strictly work-related..... I don't think there's anything mommy-centric here.

I work for a big, well-respected, Fortune 500 Company -- I have I guess what could be called an upper-middle management job. When I attend meetings, I'm often the lowest man on the totem pole, but that's okay because the room is full of the "big-cheeses"..... I'm kinda satisfied that they remember my name from week to week and if I can chime in with something intelligent from time to time -- well, then all the better.

I represent my division on a huge enterprise-wide project -- and on the project I have a colleague that I'll call "Chris" for the purposes of this post. Chris is extremely well thought of -- capable, adds value to every meeting. From what I hear through the grapevine, Chris holds several masters & advanced degrees from very prestigious schools...... yeah, there's a couple of Ivy League names on the old resume.

Here's my dilemma -- I have no idea if Chris is a man or a woman.

Could be a man trying to be a woman..... could be a woman who was just cursed with very man-like attributes.... could be a woman who used to be a man...... I just can't tell. Clearly Chris' current intent is to be a woman..... Chris wears womanly patterns/colors on a very man like build..... something north of 6 feet with broad shoulders, big feet and a deep voice. Ever wonder where these people manage to find women's clothes in men's sizes?

In the grand scheme of things, I suppose it doesn't matter -- Chris is very generous to me on this particular project -- has been helpful and supportive whenever I need him/her to be..... but I find the whole ambiguity somewhat distracting. I worry about saying something insensitive..... I mean, I'm sitting there with my big old pregnant belly and wondering what goes through Chris' head when I walk in the room....

This is not something you can ask around about? I mean -- this is a big company...... HR eats this shit for breakfast..... and even if I could, how could I do it tactfully -- "Hey Mindy, is Chris a really a dude?"

I did broach the topic with one colleague -- I work with him a lot..... I knew if I was vague, he'd know what I meant and be vague right back -- so I asked him

Mrs Big Dubya: Hey Tom, Ever work with Chris?
Tom: Not directly, but..... I know who you mean
Mrs Big Dubya: Oh, I was just wondering what the background was -- seems really accomplished
Tom: Yeah, lots of qualifications -- but I don't know what Chris' story is either.... sorry.

I never realized how attached to the label "man" or "woman" that I am...... I mean, Chris is doing a terrific job -- is more than qualified.....

Why am I so damn curious?