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?

My new look......

Thanks to Hubby for creating my new look......

It's a belated Mother's Day gift, but I think it was well worth the wait :)

Happy Friday Everybody!

PS -- check out Kara -- she's kickin ass and taking names..... and good for her.... blogging was supposed to be fun!

The places I won't buy food

I think every geographical area has their own..... growing up, we had Building 19 and the less-seedy Christmas Tree Shop. In NY, my cousins had Job Lot and various "All-for-A-Dollar" type stores...... (sadly, I remember when they were 69¢ stores.... man am I getting old). Since moving to CT, I've discovered Big Lots.

These stores are terrific -- I love them because they sell the things that I hate spending money on for cheap.... specifically, wrapping paper, gift bags and shower curtain liners. In my little mind, there is nothing worse than having to spend $4.99 on a gift bag for a token gift you spent $12 on. In these shops, gift bags are a buck...... nice (or big) gift bags are a couple of bucks..... you need a bag to stick a bottle of wine in -- $0.69 and you are in business.

These stores have lots of other great stuff too...... and don't you worry -- I'm not kidding myself, I know that they also have lots of junk -- but if you find yourself needing a cheapo plastic table cloth or some clothes pegs -- this is where you go. You may have to battle the old ladies who are spending $3.99 on a some no-name scented candle that they swear will last as long as a Yankee (trust me lady, it won't) -- but it's worth the trip.

But then..... the snob in me comes out. I just can't buy food in these places. I know, a canned good is a canned good and it's in a sealed can so it's probably fine, but...... I just can't do it. I have made two exceptions....... I have purchased Sweet 'n Low and T.G.I Friday's Bloody Mary Mix (it really is the best mix around) at the Christmas Tree Shop...... the price is just too good..... but that's where I draw the line. I can't buy "real" food at these discount stores.... and I can't buy food at the gas station either.... a Diet Coke? sure, but....... one of those pre-made sandwiches from Mobil-On-The-Run..... I'm sorry -- I'll never be that hungry.

He wrote a book?

Okay, so last year..... the day I came back to work..... we got the call.... my granny ('lil Dubya's super-gran) had passed away in Ireland at the ripe old age of 90.

My granddad, her husband had passed away several years earlier -- so there was the matter of disposing of her assets (a.k.a her house). The house is in a gorgeous part of Ireland, but is old and in disrepair -- so the children (my dad, aunts & uncles) agreed that selling it was the only sensible thing to do. As is customary, they waited until she'd been gone a year to put it on the market..... her anniversary was Tuesday and didn't it pop up on the internet on Wednesday.

Anyway, real estate postings are quite different in Ireland -- if you go to www.realtor.com here in the States, you'll get a brief description of the property -- the dimensions of the rooms -- maybe a description of any unique features..... some pricing/tax information.... but that's about it.

In Ireland, the description is a few pages long -- they carefully take you from room to room -- up the stairs, into the closets and give a detailed description of everything right down to the shelves, windows & doors. The same care is given to the yard, the surroundings and..... to the history of the house and those who have lived there.

It was in this description that I learned, my grandfather had authored a book in the late 1940s while living there -- it was one of two books that had been written in the house since it was built. I called Aunt P "Did you know Granddad wrote a book?" -- Nope, she didn't know either. Stupid American that I am, I went and searched for it on Amazon.com...... of course, it's not there. I called Granny "Did you know Granddad wrote a book?" -- Nope, she didn't know..... Dad will surely be aware of this...... "Dad, did you know Granddad wrote a book" Yeah, he knew -- but says that it's been out of print for years -- it's in Gaelic and he's not sure anybody has a copy.

This wasn't good enough for me...... the family needs to have a copy..... I need to be able to pass it down to the 'lil Dubya and the 'liller Dubya that's on the way. My Dad gives up too easy.... he said that I'd never find one -- I suggested Amazon, eBay -- he laughed at me. "No Dad, the internet is amazing for this kind of stuff". Again, he told me the mission was impossible.

I'm not great at internet sleuthing...... The Big Dubya is really busy at work...... this is a job for Aunt P.

-----Original Message-----
From: MrsBigDubya
Sent: Tuesday, September 26, 2006 8:21 AM
To: Aunt P
Cc: MrBigDubya
Subject: By the way.....

I asked Dad about Granddad's book......
He said he wasn't surprised that I couldn't find it on Amazon (seemed amused that I looked) and that it was in Gaelic and out of print.
I told him it would be nice to have a copy in the family...... would be cool if I could get it for him for Christmas

And that was all it took...... she found it within minutes --

One thing I hadn't counted on....

-----Original Message-----
From: Aunt P
Sent: Tuesday, September 26, 2006 9:56 AM
To: MrsBigDubya
Cc: MrBigDubya
RE: By the way.....

Found it!
An irish book store.
For sale. 10 Euros.
I'll see if they'll let me buy it (american credit card and all).
We can give it to Dad for Christmas.

We? Did she say WE??? Did she steal my gift idea right out from under me????

Ever the diplomat, I suggested we give it to him from my kids...... she countered with from my kids and her dog..... SOLD.

Second time around..... not the same ol' thing

I kind of thought that pregnancy the second time around would be different..... and it is...... but not at all for the reasons I thought.

The excitement is similar...... the anticipation is huge...... but, people just aren't as excited for you. I can understand that..... first babies are different. Of course second babies are just as special, but..... they aren't firsts. This coupled with the fact that my cousin (who's due date was 6 weeks before mine) delivered really, really, really preemie twins a couple of months ago -- has made my thankfully uneventful pregnancy go completely under the radar for my family. Believe me, I'm not complaining -- it's been nice, and quiet -- and the twins are truly a miracle -- two very tiny gifts from God who are doing okay.

In some ways, the pressure is off with your second pregnancy..... you know what to expect..... well, kinda. Maybe I should say you think you know what to expect. I knew that during the first trimester I'd be exhausted...... of course, the last time I didn't have a 10 month old to chase after.... that, I really hadn't counted on. I also knew that constipation was likely and that mad dashes to the bathroom would be required due to frequent peeing...... I didn't know that I'd have 22lbs of company in the bathroom...... flushing the toilet for me whether I had completed my business or not -- and then clapping with pride at the flushing noise.

I knew that as you get toward the end, getting comfy at night is tough -- didn't realize the 'lil guy would start to scream just as I found the exact place to put the pillow. I knew what to expect at the doctor's appointments..... I knew to eat something or drink some chocolate milk with my prenatal vitamin to help fend of nausea.... I knew that nose bleeds are common.... and that people would offer their disapproval when I told them that we opted to not find out the sex.

Yet, some things are still a mystery....... you know, some of the more traditional fears...... I had an emergency c-section at 35 weeks the last time -- so, I didn't have to deal with labor, contractions or my water breaking in public...... AND my bellybutton never popped out..... I'm still trying to find out, does that hurt?

I have friends who gained 30, 40, 50 even 60lbs during pregnancy -- how the heck did they do that???? I gained somewhere between 22 and 24 the last time..... it's hard to know for sure because the toxemia came on so suddenly and there was so much bloating and water weight. This time at 32 weeks I'm up somewhere around 18ish lbs....... and I'm HUGE -- so huge that I'm starting to bust out of my maternity clothes and I am really beginning to wonder what am I going to wear to work for the next few weeks? Where do people who gain that kind of weight find clothes to fit them? Maybe it's because my weight is fairly concentrated -- other than my Aunt Angela's butt, which appeared 10 minutes after I peed on the stick, I'm pretty much all belly....

Why can't you just listen to me???

This morning 4:45 am at chez Dubya

Mrs Big Dubya: I'll give the 'lil guy his antibiotic before we shower him.... 'cuz that stuff is sticky -- and he seems to get it everywhere!
Mr Big Dubya: Good idea
Mrs Big Dubya: Will give him one last dose of Tylenol too, just to be safe.
Mr Big Dubya: Sounds good

A few minutes later, in the bathroom, delivering 'lil man to the Big Dubya for his morning shower......
Mrs Big Dubya: Here he is -- all medicated and ready to go

And then..... about a half hour later, on our way out the door:
Mr Big Dubya: I just gave him some Tylenol...
Mrs Big Dubya: You did WHAAAAAAATTTTT?????
Mr Big Dubya: What? Did you give him some already? Oh, did you tell me that? Sorry.
Mrs Big Dubya: Silence...... coupled with cold, icy glare

It just aint pretty

So, the 'lil man has taken to dancing.

It started out with a little bit of rhythmic clapping...... and soon began to progress.

First we were treated to a little swing at the waist/hips..... it was cute.

Next we noticed that there was a bit of a squat and bounce happening..... he'd bend his knees, bounce up and down..... twist at the waist.... and then the clap was thrown in at the end.

Soon it was the squat and bounce..... the twist..... the clap and some soulful head bobbing.

I kind of (naively) thought he was only performing for us at home.... usually when a particularly musical commercial came on TV, but sometimes a good theme song would get him going. But, I was soon corrected.... I learned that he was strutting his stuff at school too.

School..... yes, this is where I'm assuming he learned his new move..... .he's thrown a foot-stomp into his repertoire.

Yep, that's my boy..... a cross between Elaine Benes & Mr Ed.

Ode to the half sandwich

I know, I'm a pain in the ass.....

Like so many people, I like a sandwich for lunch.....

But it's not enough.... and by not enough, I don't mean volume -- no, I mean variety.

See, if I order/make a whole sandwich -- I do, I eat the whole thing.... because it's there and it looks good and you shouldn't waste food..... but not because I'm hungry or because I want the whole thing. I much prefer to have a half sandwich with a cup of soup, some chips, some fruit or some other accompaniment..... but not too many places offer that.

Some restaurants claim to offer a "lunch special" that says that they'll give you "half a sandwich" and your choice of soup, salad, whatever..... but their half a sandwich is freakin' huge -- much bigger than a whole sandwich I'd make at home.... and they wonder why we are all fat?

I was so excited to discover that the cafeteria in my new building sells half sandwiches..... and they are real half sandwiches!

Now, if I could only get them to sell a half a bagel and a half a muffin (the top half of course), I'd be in business.

We're back..... and a hodgepodge of other stuff

Okay folks.... we are home.... yaaayyyy!

We had an amazing time in Walt Disney World.... and, we didn't even "do the parks". Nope, we just hung out at the pool, went for long walks and played in the water with the 'lil man. He got to chase the ducks (ducks being defined as any small creature with wings) and had the time of his life. I'm not going to get into the wonder that is a maternity bathing suit..... that's a post for another day.......

Of course, my mind can never just focus on the present..... nope, I get all wrapped up in thinking ahead -- in this case, it was to May when we are going to return to WDW for a little family fun w/ Aunt P (who I guess is technically Mrs Tall Guy) and her new hubby Mr Tall Guy.

As we've become somewhat seasoned at traveling with the 'lil man, I was trying to choreograph how we'd manage him, along with his new sibling who'll be 5 or 6 mos old come May. That'll mean two babies...... which means transporting two car seats and perhaps a double stroller. I tried to observe other families who were traveling with "2 under 2"..... I saw a variety of contraptions/solutions -- some looked clever, some just stupid..... then of course there were the rookies.... traveling with a baby for the first time..... they had enough stuff to open a Babies'RUs all by themselves.

I also noticed the challenges associated with the double stroller..... the ones that are side-by-side tend to be so wide that they are difficult to navigate through narrow spaces (store aisles, etc. ) -- and they are so big, bulky and heavy...... they are hardly a help..... the ones that are lightweight and fold down to a somewhat manageable size are cha-ching.... expensive!!!!

I'm gonna have to do some research.

Beware Disney, Here Come the Dubyas

Okay, the 'lil man turns 15 months today..... all together now: AWWWWWWWWW!

So freakin' hard to believe. What's even harder to believe is how well traveled the kid is for such a young and tender age. In his short time here on planet earth, he's been to CT (well, we live here) MA (our families live there) RI, NY, TN, IL, CA, NV, FL, AZ...... the list goes on and on. He's seen the bright lights (and debotchery) of Las Vegas, crossed London Bridge... the bridge his granddad used to take every day when he worked in London (still blows my mind that it's in Lake Havasu, Arizona) -- and now, he's gearing up for his second trip to Walt Disney World -- with another trip with Aunt P and Mr Tall Guy scheduled for May.

Please dear readers..... don't misunderstand..... we aren't wealthy people -- we just like vacations and these guys (I live for cheap flights) along with family timeshares make this champagne lifestyle affordable on a really cheap beer budget.

The last time the 'lil man was in Disney he was only 11 weeks old -- weighed in at just under seven pounds... I was stressed about germs and whether or not to pack a breastpump..... this time, my oh my is it different. To begin with, this trip is with the Big Dubya instead of Granny and Aunt P..... I'm packing Teddy Grahams (you know, bribe food), I'm wondering if we have enough swim diapers packed and hoping we can get my still fairly bald child to wear a sun hat!

Wish me luck!

PS -- Keep the baby names coming..... Quinlan? I actually really like that one!

Oh, but what's in a name?

So, here we are..... about to wrap up the 27th week of pregnancy and we are still struggling with names.

Like the last time (the 'lil Dubya's name was pretty much decided before he was even conceived), I think we have finally come to agreement (albeit a shaky agreement) for a boy's name -- but alas, we are still nowhere if we are blessed with the opportunity to name a little girl.

Aunt P and Granny really like Abigail.... they think that a little girl named Abby would be just terrific. The Big Dubya (and, in fairness I have to agree with him) just doesn't think it's the name for us.

Granddad thinks Liffey would be nice..... after Ireland's River Liffey.... of course then the jokes began.... you could also name her after the River Suck!

Miss America suggested Honor..... I like it, but.... not enough to use.

The Big Dubya suggested some great Irish names.... Niamh, Siobhan, Roisin..... I love them all, and would be thrilled to use any of them if we lived in Ireland -- but they don't pass the pronounceable or spellable tests here in the States.... and I just can't do that to a kid. I had a friend Siobhan in high school..... some cute guys we met in the Bahamas got confused and called her Shazam for our entire spring break!


Because all of this indecision is really starting to stress me out, I finally suggested Fallon -- but the Big Dubya poo-poo'd that one too.... apparently, there was some soap opera in the 80's that had a character named Fallon.

Please dear readers..... help us with a girl name!