Why do people have to be so negative about an impending addition to the family? I have never seen anything like it. It's like That Guy that I mentioned on here before who has to "one up" everyone in a conversation with a "Oh, but you know what's worse than that?" diatribe everytime someone shares an anecdote. Me? I love to complain. But I don't mean to inflict it upon other people and make them feel bad. I'm so tired of people only telling their horror stories about their pregnancy, their childbirth and their lack of sleep after the child is born.
I would like to declare for the record the following things:
1. I am very aware that you get hot and uncomfortable while pregnant. Particularly during July-September in Texas. This much seems obvious. I don't need to hear "Oh, just wait!" No, I'm not gonna wait. It's 100 degrees everyday, I'm carrying 15 extra slightly volatile pounds, and I'm making it just fine. The connection seems clear.
2. Childbirth isn't pleasant no matter how you slice it. (no pun intended) Really? I thought babies just slipped out gracefully on a command. Thanks, Captain Obvious! This has been the case for many, many generations. Get over it. And, OH! Oh! That reminds me...
2b. If you don't have a uterus? I don't want to hear you tell me about childbirth. Period. Go apply for your Man Card somewhere and stop talking to the girls about epidurals and stretch marks. It's sad and creepy.
3. If you don't know? You don't get a lot of sleep when you have a newborn. This is because they eat, pee, and poop a lot. Around the clock, in fact. I am tired of being told to enjoy my time now, to bank my sleep (you can't, I checked), and to [again] JUST WAIT! It's really putting a damper on my summer and I think that's mean. Let me enjoy myself.
Why do people feel the need to do this? I'm trying to have a joyous, pleasant occasion here. The above points are obvious, and guess what? [whisper] People continue to have babies anyway. They really do. Of course these things are difficult and I'm not saying they aren't, I'm just tired of hearing them. All. The. Time. It's condescending and annoying and it's taking away from me enjoying looking forward to the Piglet.
You know who gets it? Posthip Chick. She's an excellent person to talk to who will answer questions, give good tips, and share frustrations with a good sense of humor. That's what I'm talking about. Like I said, I love to complain. I can whine with the best of 'em. But I prefer to do it with a grain of self-deprecating humor and a lack of "Oh, you just wait!"
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Thursday, July 27, 2006
A New Low
I have just acheived a new level of slovenliness. I've tried really hard lately to take care of myself, exercise, get a lot of rest when I need it, and generally relax. Today, I think I may have taken it one step too far.
After my jaunt to the pool and a two hour float on The Best Raft Ever with a friend, I returned home to have a snack and a rest. I munched on (what else?) chocolate chip cookies and perused my email before lying down for a brief nap and some TV time. I awakened at 6:00 and decided to make myself look decent before my husband got home. (1950s anyone?)
Entering my bathroom to survey the damage of a day's work (90 degree morning walk, some light housecleaning, a few phone calls, a pool trip, and a nap), I was startled to see something large and brown looming on my chin. A growth? A wicked looking pimple? A cricket? I leaned closer.
No, no....just your everyday chocolate chip slightly smashed into my chin. I hastily wiped it off and looked frantically for more. The rest of my face appeared to be clear, but there were tell-tale remnants on the chest of my t-shirt, probably from my nap.
After laughing hysterically for 5 minutes, I called Eddie to share, then lamented the fact that I had not taken a photo for the blog. I think I've reached a new low in slovenly behavior. Now's the time, my Sprockets when we bathe.
After my jaunt to the pool and a two hour float on The Best Raft Ever with a friend, I returned home to have a snack and a rest. I munched on (what else?) chocolate chip cookies and perused my email before lying down for a brief nap and some TV time. I awakened at 6:00 and decided to make myself look decent before my husband got home. (1950s anyone?)
Entering my bathroom to survey the damage of a day's work (90 degree morning walk, some light housecleaning, a few phone calls, a pool trip, and a nap), I was startled to see something large and brown looming on my chin. A growth? A wicked looking pimple? A cricket? I leaned closer.
No, no....just your everyday chocolate chip slightly smashed into my chin. I hastily wiped it off and looked frantically for more. The rest of my face appeared to be clear, but there were tell-tale remnants on the chest of my t-shirt, probably from my nap.
After laughing hysterically for 5 minutes, I called Eddie to share, then lamented the fact that I had not taken a photo for the blog. I think I've reached a new low in slovenly behavior. Now's the time, my Sprockets when we bathe.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Texas Sayings
Since the Great Texas Flag debate got me going the other day, I thought I'd mention a couple of Texas sayings that really drive me bonkers. Being from the South, I'm okay with the use of "fixin' to" and other typical Southern phrases which I may have been known to use myself, some of which are terribly incorrect. I am perfectly aware that it is incorrect to say "used to could", but it's just so much easier than saying "I used to be able to". SO. While I say things that are probably annoying to Texans, these things bother me:
1. Biggo. I think I've mentioned this one before, but it bears repeating. Biggo is used as an adjective, as in: "Wow! That's a biggo Texas flag!" In my experience, we've always called that "big 'ol", but here it's simpler. Just biggo.
2. Get a holt of. Whether it be the dog's collar, a friend on the phone, or or a child's neck, it seems that someone around me is always trying to get a holt of something or someone. As in: "Here's my business card. You can get a holt of me anytime, day or night." It just kind of makes me feel itchy when people say it. Kind of like when people at home say warsh instead of wash.
3. Whenever. This one is definitely my biggest pet peeve because I don't understand the usage. There are correct ways to use this word, but the context in which it always stands out to me here is generally incorrect. I'm not sure how to explain it, so here are some samples:
"Whenever I was in high school, I got good grades."
"Whenever I was at the grocery store yesterday, I saw Mike and Patty."
"Whenever I went to L.A. last year with Susan, we went to Mann's Theater."
Now, I would use the word "when" in these sentences, as to me "whenever" implies more than one time or frequent times. Here, it seems to be used interchangably and generally more than the word "when". I find it all very confusing. If anyone has any insight, please explain.
1. Biggo. I think I've mentioned this one before, but it bears repeating. Biggo is used as an adjective, as in: "Wow! That's a biggo Texas flag!" In my experience, we've always called that "big 'ol", but here it's simpler. Just biggo.
2. Get a holt of. Whether it be the dog's collar, a friend on the phone, or or a child's neck, it seems that someone around me is always trying to get a holt of something or someone. As in: "Here's my business card. You can get a holt of me anytime, day or night." It just kind of makes me feel itchy when people say it. Kind of like when people at home say warsh instead of wash.
3. Whenever. This one is definitely my biggest pet peeve because I don't understand the usage. There are correct ways to use this word, but the context in which it always stands out to me here is generally incorrect. I'm not sure how to explain it, so here are some samples:
"Whenever I was in high school, I got good grades."
"Whenever I was at the grocery store yesterday, I saw Mike and Patty."
"Whenever I went to L.A. last year with Susan, we went to Mann's Theater."
Now, I would use the word "when" in these sentences, as to me "whenever" implies more than one time or frequent times. Here, it seems to be used interchangably and generally more than the word "when". I find it all very confusing. If anyone has any insight, please explain.
Friday, July 21, 2006
Dear Crickets,
I've had it! I am apparently not making myself clear through my squeals, screams and shrieks of horror. You are NOT welcome in my home. You are not welcome all over the floors, you are not welcome on the furniture. You are certainly not welcome in my shower. And you? The one who was big, fat, hairy and still moving this morning? YOU are not welcome in my kitchen sink from whence you leaped out at me from behind the pot cleaner, causing me to drop a knife precariously close to my bare foot. That was completely unacceptable.
I am very aware that it is always at least 105 degrees outside and that you are probably hot. I do not know how you are getting in, but I do know that you're dying from the exterminator's poison within an hour of your entry. Is that really worth the air conditioning? Is it? Picking up dead crickets is not my idea of a fun early morning activity. Particularly when I think you're dead and you leap out of the dust pan. Not cool.
Even Gus doesn't like you anymore. He used to enjoy your spirited leapy antics, but he has grown bored with your presence. He doesn't even like to eat all of you. His habit of leaving only a meaty, hairy leg on the floor isn't doing much for me either.
In closing, go frolic out in the cornfield and tell all of your nasty jumpy friends that our house is closed. Off limits. Finished. If I had a bird friend who hunted crickets, I'd call him in to eat your sorry selves. Sum up: You're nasty. Get out.
Sincerely,
Squealing Pig
I am very aware that it is always at least 105 degrees outside and that you are probably hot. I do not know how you are getting in, but I do know that you're dying from the exterminator's poison within an hour of your entry. Is that really worth the air conditioning? Is it? Picking up dead crickets is not my idea of a fun early morning activity. Particularly when I think you're dead and you leap out of the dust pan. Not cool.
Even Gus doesn't like you anymore. He used to enjoy your spirited leapy antics, but he has grown bored with your presence. He doesn't even like to eat all of you. His habit of leaving only a meaty, hairy leg on the floor isn't doing much for me either.
In closing, go frolic out in the cornfield and tell all of your nasty jumpy friends that our house is closed. Off limits. Finished. If I had a bird friend who hunted crickets, I'd call him in to eat your sorry selves. Sum up: You're nasty. Get out.
Sincerely,
Squealing Pig
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Things 101-110
Just for something new and kicky, I am going to copy Jen and attempt to add to my 100 Things list until I run out of things to say. We'll shoot for, say....ten at a time, but I'm not guaranteeing ten a week or anything like that. So, here we begin:
101. I used to sneak all kinds of candy and sweets into my bedroom to munch on while I was reading. I thought this was very clever and elusive. I often hid HoHo's in my yellow pencil box. One time, I was eating a Gobstopper and somehow sucked it down my throat during a really good part in Sweet Valley High: Slam Book Fever and I thought I was going to die. I stood in my doorway, unable to breathe, torn between dying and telling my mom that I had candy in my room. Tough call.
102. My front tooth is chipped. It's been bonded and repaired, but it will always be chipped because I am a clod. My sister and I were rollerskating in the basement, probably to our Cabbage Patch Kids record, and she bashed into a table. Making fun of her, I imitated her crash. Except I lost a bunch of my tooth to that table.
103. I love coupons. You might call me a bit obsessed. I hate buying anything that is not a) on sale, b) couponable, or c) otherwise a steal.
104. I like to smell freshly printed catalogs. And the coffee aisle at the grocery store. And Subway.
105. My first tape was The Bangles.
106. I took two semesters of German and the only things I can say are "grocery store", "I love you", and "Dinner's ready."
107. I salt my canteloupe and apples.
108. My husband and I have birthdays four days apart, but we are different astrological signs. I'm a Taurus and he's an Aries. Those signs aren't really supposed to marry.
109. I've never seen Titanic. Some people seem to think this is tragic. I don't.
110. I hate when toilet paper comes off the back of the roll. I think the roll should be situated so that the paper comes over the top and down the front. That's just the way things should be.
101. I used to sneak all kinds of candy and sweets into my bedroom to munch on while I was reading. I thought this was very clever and elusive. I often hid HoHo's in my yellow pencil box. One time, I was eating a Gobstopper and somehow sucked it down my throat during a really good part in Sweet Valley High: Slam Book Fever and I thought I was going to die. I stood in my doorway, unable to breathe, torn between dying and telling my mom that I had candy in my room. Tough call.
102. My front tooth is chipped. It's been bonded and repaired, but it will always be chipped because I am a clod. My sister and I were rollerskating in the basement, probably to our Cabbage Patch Kids record, and she bashed into a table. Making fun of her, I imitated her crash. Except I lost a bunch of my tooth to that table.
103. I love coupons. You might call me a bit obsessed. I hate buying anything that is not a) on sale, b) couponable, or c) otherwise a steal.
104. I like to smell freshly printed catalogs. And the coffee aisle at the grocery store. And Subway.
105. My first tape was The Bangles.
106. I took two semesters of German and the only things I can say are "grocery store", "I love you", and "Dinner's ready."
107. I salt my canteloupe and apples.
108. My husband and I have birthdays four days apart, but we are different astrological signs. I'm a Taurus and he's an Aries. Those signs aren't really supposed to marry.
109. I've never seen Titanic. Some people seem to think this is tragic. I don't.
110. I hate when toilet paper comes off the back of the roll. I think the roll should be situated so that the paper comes over the top and down the front. That's just the way things should be.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Back to School!
I really thought that since I'm not going back to school this year, I wouldn't be adversely affected by the BACK TO SCHOOL! extravaganza that seems to alter the marketing strategies of everything from groceries to car sales. I was mistaken.
Despite the fact that when school commences this year, I plan to be floating in The Best Raft Ever in a leisurely manner through a warm-watered Texas summer pool, I still get a stomach ache whenever I see or hear a back to school ad. I feel sad when people talk about only have a few more weeks of summer left.
Growing up, my dad would torment us with these back to school sightings in a manner not unlike the guy skipping through the aisles of the store in the Staples commercial. He would get a look of manic glee in his eyes and howl, "Back to school! Back to school! It's time for you boys to go back to school!" I think that's where it all began. You'd think I'd be more troubled at being continuously called a boy, but really the back to school part is what drove me crazy. That's what I plan to tell my therapist, anyway.
I just don't understand why back to school sales have to start immediately following the Fourth of July. I mean, up north, kids have only been out of school for maybe a week! Maybe they don't start this hoopla so early there. I don't know. The only thing worse is that once school finally does start in August around here, the Halloween decorations will come out. So, that's fun, right?
Main point: Why do I still feel sort of sick to my stomach when I hear the phrase Back to School? I'm kind of excited not to be going back. I think this is residual childhood scarring.
Despite the fact that when school commences this year, I plan to be floating in The Best Raft Ever in a leisurely manner through a warm-watered Texas summer pool, I still get a stomach ache whenever I see or hear a back to school ad. I feel sad when people talk about only have a few more weeks of summer left.
Growing up, my dad would torment us with these back to school sightings in a manner not unlike the guy skipping through the aisles of the store in the Staples commercial. He would get a look of manic glee in his eyes and howl, "Back to school! Back to school! It's time for you boys to go back to school!" I think that's where it all began. You'd think I'd be more troubled at being continuously called a boy, but really the back to school part is what drove me crazy. That's what I plan to tell my therapist, anyway.
I just don't understand why back to school sales have to start immediately following the Fourth of July. I mean, up north, kids have only been out of school for maybe a week! Maybe they don't start this hoopla so early there. I don't know. The only thing worse is that once school finally does start in August around here, the Halloween decorations will come out. So, that's fun, right?
Main point: Why do I still feel sort of sick to my stomach when I hear the phrase Back to School? I'm kind of excited not to be going back. I think this is residual childhood scarring.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Pigs on Pregnancy
I haven't talked a whole lot about being knocked up with the Piglet on here, which is probably why it caught some people by surprise that I am seven months along. I haven't discussed it for a couple of reasons. One, I assume most people really don't care. If you're not pregnant yourself, or haven't been pregnant before, it's all kind of uninteresting and annoying. Two, I'm really not all that into it myself, so I haven't seen the need to discuss it. Three, I have a sneaky suspicion that there is a high likelihood that this formerly education-centric blog might dissolve into an extended series of poop posts here in the fall. Not that that will really be that different from my current poop posts, but you know what I mean. It's coming, folks. My life will temporarily be entirely consumed by all things Piglet and I will have little else to write about.
I've tried really hard to understand my friends and acquaintances who have just adored being pregnant. I'm talking to the point that they lamented its loss upon the birth of the baby. I, for the record, do not understand these people. I'm not opposed to the idea of being pregnant. It's just that I would just rather an instant infant would appear after about two months. [Note: Instant Infant! © If the technology ever becomes available, you read it here first. I claim rights.) I just want the kid. Not so much on the whole pregnancy gig, but it's a means to an end.
Here are my candid observations of pregnancy thus far:
1. You get kinda fat. I didn't gain for quite a while and thought this whole thing might be a big hoax. But then Piglet started to takeover. We have now reached hostage situation caliber Takeover. I'm only round in front. This scenario is actually a good thing because I don't technically feel fat. I primarily feel deformed. Today I put all of my size large t-shirts leftover from when that was cool in college back on the shelf in exchange for my husband's size XL men's monster shirts that even swallow him whole. The husband is a slight man with good shoulders and arm muscles, slightly taller than me. I now weigh more than he does. Not really good for either of our egos.
2. Sausage fingers. Only when I walk, though, and really....how often is that? There's nothing more attractive than looking down and seeing eight swollen puffy digits teeming with fluid, turning white from pressure. Dead sexy. But my nails look good. Thank you, prenatal vitamins.
3. Dog nose. I stole this phrase from the book Diary of a Mad Mommy-To-Be because it's so accurate and it makes me snicker. I have always been overly blessed with an acute sense of smell, but now it has been upgraded to canine bomb squad quality abilities. Generally, this is not good. I can effortlessly sniff out flatulence three rooms away and detect a rotten apple in the bottom of a garbage can upon entering a room. Everything smells nasty. Except chocolate chip cookies. All can be fixed with a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies.
4. Gas - Maybe it's because I'm having a boy, but I now have the ability to rip one off just like a guy. We're talking strength, intensity, infiltration, the works. It's so much fun. Unless I'm in public. I miss having students to blame it on.
5. Clumsiness - Being that I am on the lowest end of the grace scale to begin with, I feel that I am perfectly qualifed to assess the storm by which general klutziness has plagued my every move. I crash into door frames that have been in my home for the entire time I've lived here. I drop every single thing I touch or hold. I bash my head on furniture on my way down to pick up whatever I've dropped. I run into stuff with my stomach all of the time. I have absolutely no concept of my size and I really believe that I still fit into small spaces. Not so much. This phenomenon is allegedly attributed to having an extra 50% blood volume in your system. I personally believe that it's a part of the Takeover designed to wear you down psychologically.
6. Bloodbath - Speaking of all that blood, I don't find the spewing forth of it from nose and gums particularly endearing. The nosebleeds and bloody boogers are simply unpleasant, but the blood geysers when flossing cannot be good for my dental health. Going to the dentist last week was particularly perplexing as I explained this condition to the hygienist, only to have her do that flossing technique that only a good hygienist can enact [Whaaaa-PAM! Snap! Whaaaa-PAM! Snap!] upon my blood engorged gums only to create a colossal mess upon her smock. Heh.
7. Baby Brain - Hmm. I can't remember what I was going to say here.
8. Crotch - It seems that sometimes, babies are so low? That they try to push your crotch out of your body. And then sometimes? They get into a little game of Kicky McPuncherson with your bladder? And you spontaneously pee. Not me, of course. Just something I've heard. But did I mention that I pee every 20 minutes or so? Our water bill is so high I've had to resort to the "If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down" rule of thumb. Was that too much information? Anyone want to come over? You can use my bathroom?
9. Kicking - Speaking of Kicky McPuncherson, the kicks and wiggles were so cute at first! Darling, really. Barely detectable little flutters of life. Now? We have a junior kickboxing champion in there who is situated in a manner in which his feet kick out my side. Think about that. Little feet kicking out of my side. This is only topped by the little hands on the other side that have found their way under my ribs and like to push outward.
10. Bed Takeover - Gus and my husband are now required to sleep on approximately 1/4 of the bed. Together. Not because I'm so obscenely large, but because it takes 3 pillows, plus a full-sized body pillow to make me comfortable at night. Gus tries valiantly to find a snippet of space for himself, to little avail and spends much of his slumber blowing and huffing in disdain as he sleeps quite cramped between Mike's ankles. I know, because I'm up peeing about 8 times a night.
This concludes Pigs on Pregnancy, month seven.
I've tried really hard to understand my friends and acquaintances who have just adored being pregnant. I'm talking to the point that they lamented its loss upon the birth of the baby. I, for the record, do not understand these people. I'm not opposed to the idea of being pregnant. It's just that I would just rather an instant infant would appear after about two months. [Note: Instant Infant! © If the technology ever becomes available, you read it here first. I claim rights.) I just want the kid. Not so much on the whole pregnancy gig, but it's a means to an end.
Here are my candid observations of pregnancy thus far:
1. You get kinda fat. I didn't gain for quite a while and thought this whole thing might be a big hoax. But then Piglet started to takeover. We have now reached hostage situation caliber Takeover. I'm only round in front. This scenario is actually a good thing because I don't technically feel fat. I primarily feel deformed. Today I put all of my size large t-shirts leftover from when that was cool in college back on the shelf in exchange for my husband's size XL men's monster shirts that even swallow him whole. The husband is a slight man with good shoulders and arm muscles, slightly taller than me. I now weigh more than he does. Not really good for either of our egos.
2. Sausage fingers. Only when I walk, though, and really....how often is that? There's nothing more attractive than looking down and seeing eight swollen puffy digits teeming with fluid, turning white from pressure. Dead sexy. But my nails look good. Thank you, prenatal vitamins.
3. Dog nose. I stole this phrase from the book Diary of a Mad Mommy-To-Be because it's so accurate and it makes me snicker. I have always been overly blessed with an acute sense of smell, but now it has been upgraded to canine bomb squad quality abilities. Generally, this is not good. I can effortlessly sniff out flatulence three rooms away and detect a rotten apple in the bottom of a garbage can upon entering a room. Everything smells nasty. Except chocolate chip cookies. All can be fixed with a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies.
4. Gas - Maybe it's because I'm having a boy, but I now have the ability to rip one off just like a guy. We're talking strength, intensity, infiltration, the works. It's so much fun. Unless I'm in public. I miss having students to blame it on.
5. Clumsiness - Being that I am on the lowest end of the grace scale to begin with, I feel that I am perfectly qualifed to assess the storm by which general klutziness has plagued my every move. I crash into door frames that have been in my home for the entire time I've lived here. I drop every single thing I touch or hold. I bash my head on furniture on my way down to pick up whatever I've dropped. I run into stuff with my stomach all of the time. I have absolutely no concept of my size and I really believe that I still fit into small spaces. Not so much. This phenomenon is allegedly attributed to having an extra 50% blood volume in your system. I personally believe that it's a part of the Takeover designed to wear you down psychologically.
6. Bloodbath - Speaking of all that blood, I don't find the spewing forth of it from nose and gums particularly endearing. The nosebleeds and bloody boogers are simply unpleasant, but the blood geysers when flossing cannot be good for my dental health. Going to the dentist last week was particularly perplexing as I explained this condition to the hygienist, only to have her do that flossing technique that only a good hygienist can enact [Whaaaa-PAM! Snap! Whaaaa-PAM! Snap!] upon my blood engorged gums only to create a colossal mess upon her smock. Heh.
7. Baby Brain - Hmm. I can't remember what I was going to say here.
8. Crotch - It seems that sometimes, babies are so low? That they try to push your crotch out of your body. And then sometimes? They get into a little game of Kicky McPuncherson with your bladder? And you spontaneously pee. Not me, of course. Just something I've heard. But did I mention that I pee every 20 minutes or so? Our water bill is so high I've had to resort to the "If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down" rule of thumb. Was that too much information? Anyone want to come over? You can use my bathroom?
9. Kicking - Speaking of Kicky McPuncherson, the kicks and wiggles were so cute at first! Darling, really. Barely detectable little flutters of life. Now? We have a junior kickboxing champion in there who is situated in a manner in which his feet kick out my side. Think about that. Little feet kicking out of my side. This is only topped by the little hands on the other side that have found their way under my ribs and like to push outward.
10. Bed Takeover - Gus and my husband are now required to sleep on approximately 1/4 of the bed. Together. Not because I'm so obscenely large, but because it takes 3 pillows, plus a full-sized body pillow to make me comfortable at night. Gus tries valiantly to find a snippet of space for himself, to little avail and spends much of his slumber blowing and huffing in disdain as he sleeps quite cramped between Mike's ankles. I know, because I'm up peeing about 8 times a night.
This concludes Pigs on Pregnancy, month seven.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Picture Post, Part Two
Well, I'm finally getting around to finishing this pesky assignment after, oh....a month of piddling around on it? Here are the rest of the requests:
MommyProf was curious about me on the Best Raft Ever. It really is the most amazing water craft ever. I can lie in that raft for up to four hours and never be unhappy. I can lie on my stomach! I can brown without sweating! (well, visibly, anyway) This raft ROCKS.
MommyProf was curious about me on the Best Raft Ever. It really is the most amazing water craft ever. I can lie in that raft for up to four hours and never be unhappy. I can lie on my stomach! I can brown without sweating! (well, visibly, anyway) This raft ROCKS.
The MAN asked for something you can only see in Texas. I chose the Texas flag flying at the same height as the American flag. I thought this was really peculiar when I first moved here, but after teaching Texas history, I know now that Texas is the only state allowed to do that as they were an independent country for nine years.** Yup, yup.
He also wanted to see burnt lawns, but since it actually rained on the 4th of July, there really aren't any good ones in my neighborhood.
Carrie asked for something in my favorite color. My favorite color is green, but I really like green, blue and yellow together. This is a nice combination of them all that makes me feel happy and gooey inside when I look at it. It's also my plan for nursery colors:
Star-teacher wanted to see another of Mr. Pigs' body parts. I forwarded the request to him and he promptly puffed up like a blowfish, his ego took it so well. I assured him that I was pretty sure that wasn't what she meant, but the damage was done. I choose for another part of his body....his left kneepit:
Finally, Allison wanted to see my favorite guilty pleasure. I cannot, cannot, cannot stop making and consuming these cookies. I am obsessed. Between these and ice cream, it's a wonder I'm not as big as the side of the house. I just can't stop for anything.
Whew! Hope that was pleasant for all. This concludes my picture posting for summer.
**Breaking news! This is all apparently urban legend! (See comments for details) I am pretty excited about this new development. I plan to inform a lot of native Texans in the near future. (Sorry Katielady and Bubba! Knowledge is power - mwah-ah-ah!)
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Ahoy!
Wow, I've been really lousy at posting this week. Eddie is visiting, so our days have been jam-packed with exciting things like shopping, eating, pooling, and shopping. You know how it is. No news to report. We are working on the end of my picture post. We had a successful shot of me on the Best Raft Ever, coming soon. To tide you over, I'll present the ever popular, much requested belly pic. I am offically 7 months knocked up this week. The picture was about two weeks ago. Do enjoy!
Friday, July 07, 2006
Monday, July 03, 2006
Picture Post, Part One
A few weeks ago, I asked for picture requests. Here is the first set in no particular order. Do enjoy! And of course, comment excessively. These things take forever.
Eddie for whatever reason requested Gus' left rear paw pad. I think she meant his right one, which has a toe pad that he's never walked on because he's prissy and steps daintily when he walks. It's finally starting to not look so pink:
Leesepea and Shannon asked to see the inside of my refrigerator (ooh, la la!) :
Shannon continued with the front page of the newspaper:
...and flowers from my yard. They are a little withered and weathered, but not bad considering we're under stage 3 water restrictions and can only water once a week:
Aims wanted to see my favorite spot to relax. This is where I spent the majority of my week at the beach:
She also asked for my least favorite thing to clean in my house. I know this is gross, but Texas has some weird cricket problem. Extermination takes care of spiders and other varmints, but is slower on the crickets. I hate picking up the dead ones:
Growing-girl asked to see the most embarrassing, guilty-pleasureful CD's in my collection. I was torn between these two. I'll let you decide which one's embarrassing and which one's a guilty pleasure:
Her beagle, Lucy, wanted to see something Gus enjoys. He chose his favorite sleeping spot:
Jen's beagle, Sierra, wanted to see close ups of Gus' whiskers and tail. He was not pleased when I came at him so closely with that flashy thing:
MommyProf asked for the single best baby purchase, but I couldn't decide, so I narrowed it down to the baby bathrobe and slippers a student gave me, the tiny pair of Clemson tennis socks my dad gave me a year and a half ago (think he was hinting for anything?), and the lobster teething ring from another student:
Finally, she requested the best teacher gift I got this year. It was a $100 Visa gift card from my class for my birthday. I'm going to use it for baby stuff:
And she asked for my weirdest pregnancy craving. I know it's not weird, but it's pretty much my focus right now:
There were several requests for pictures of the nursery so far, but we had a slight set-back when we began to assemble the crib today, only to find that they had packaged it in a way that a support board was stuck (think Texas heat, I suppose) to the front railing. When removed, it pulled away paint. So now we are stuck and annoyed. Have to call the store tomorrow. Anyway, here's the nursery in its current state:
Coming in the next few days:
* Me on the Best Raft Ever
* The much anticipated belly picture
* Burnt Texas lawns
* My guilty pleasure
*Something in my favorite color
* And of course, anything you suggest here. Just for you, my little peaches!
Eddie for whatever reason requested Gus' left rear paw pad. I think she meant his right one, which has a toe pad that he's never walked on because he's prissy and steps daintily when he walks. It's finally starting to not look so pink:
She then requested Gus wearing a ski hat on his head, but we really have little need for ski hats in Texas, so I don't actually own one. Finally, she asked for me in my ugliest maternity item. Thus far it is the gaucho pants from Target that I said I would never wear. They are pretty horrible, but I just got home from a trip and all my shorts are in the wash.
Leesepea and Shannon asked to see the inside of my refrigerator (ooh, la la!) :
Shannon asked to see the current book I'm reading. Eddie gave me this one at the beach. It's your typical whiny chick lit about a girl not being engaged. Her boyfriend won't propose. She's sad. The end. I think I'm reading 1984 next, but haven't been to the library.
Shannon continued with the front page of the newspaper:
...and flowers from my yard. They are a little withered and weathered, but not bad considering we're under stage 3 water restrictions and can only water once a week:
And the mail for the day. I've had my mail on hold for 8 days, so this is a bit excessive, I know. Please, please note the TWO new jury duty notices that I received. In case you're counting, those would be numbers 7 and 8 in the last 3 years. Just for the record.
Aims wanted to see my favorite spot to relax. This is where I spent the majority of my week at the beach:
She also asked for my least favorite thing to clean in my house. I know this is gross, but Texas has some weird cricket problem. Extermination takes care of spiders and other varmints, but is slower on the crickets. I hate picking up the dead ones:
She also requested my boxed up teaching stuff. Most of it is in the attic, but here's my math boxes (which are probably her favorite items anyway since she used to borrow them) all stacked up and ready to move into the attic:
Growing-girl asked to see the most embarrassing, guilty-pleasureful CD's in my collection. I was torn between these two. I'll let you decide which one's embarrassing and which one's a guilty pleasure:
Erin wanted to see the one thing that I hoped no one would ask to see. I hadn't thought about this before, but I'm going to go with my husband's half-grown in toenail. He seems to have a toenail problem in which they, well....fall off. Usually when playing basketball. Tons of kids have stepped on my toes, and they've never fallen off. For Pete's sake, an entire sink fell on my toe and the nail didn't come off. It's something no one should have to look at, though he's strangely proud of it:
Her beagle, Lucy, wanted to see something Gus enjoys. He chose his favorite sleeping spot:
Jen's beagle, Sierra, wanted to see close ups of Gus' whiskers and tail. He was not pleased when I came at him so closely with that flashy thing:
MommyProf asked for the single best baby purchase, but I couldn't decide, so I narrowed it down to the baby bathrobe and slippers a student gave me, the tiny pair of Clemson tennis socks my dad gave me a year and a half ago (think he was hinting for anything?), and the lobster teething ring from another student:
Finally, she requested the best teacher gift I got this year. It was a $100 Visa gift card from my class for my birthday. I'm going to use it for baby stuff:
Leesepea asked for a picture of Gus getting a bath:
And she asked for my weirdest pregnancy craving. I know it's not weird, but it's pretty much my focus right now:
There were several requests for pictures of the nursery so far, but we had a slight set-back when we began to assemble the crib today, only to find that they had packaged it in a way that a support board was stuck (think Texas heat, I suppose) to the front railing. When removed, it pulled away paint. So now we are stuck and annoyed. Have to call the store tomorrow. Anyway, here's the nursery in its current state:
Coming in the next few days:
* Me on the Best Raft Ever
* The much anticipated belly picture
* Burnt Texas lawns
* My guilty pleasure
*Something in my favorite color
* And of course, anything you suggest here. Just for you, my little peaches!
Flying is Fun. Really.
I'm home! I had a really good trip. The plane ride home was less than stellar, but the trip was nice. On the way home, we had the pleasure of having our seats which I had chosen back in May relocated to the rear of the aircraft just across from the flight attendant's prep area and just in front of 12 teenagers traveling together. Yes, I counted.
It seems that when teenagers travel together, they follow some sort of tribal mating ritual in which the boys must act retarded and the girls must squeal excessively and exert their jungle striking abilities. I'm certain that Eddie and I were really obnoxious teenagers, but this was something all new. And then it was compounded by Crazy Hormone Woman who was relocated to Mike's other side. The 2.5 hour plane ride went like this:
Mike and I were seated just in front of the teenagers. I was torn between casting them a withering glare and giving them my best "I'm a cool thirty year old pregnant chick" grin. You know, let's be pals. I elected to sit quietly and wait to see which would work best. The engines revved. It's been a long time since I sat in the very back of a plane and those engines are Loud. Capital L loud. I have really sensitive hearing. Then arrived Crazy Hormone Woman.
CHW: HI! I'm moving back here with y'all because they put me next to some mom who thought her kid was precious. I said, 'I gotta have my sleep! I'm telling you up front I may snore!' Ha ha ha!!
Mike: Hello.
CHW: So where are y'all from?!
Mike: We live in Texas, but we're originally from the Carolinas.
CHW: YOU are KIDDING?! That is so WILD!
Mike: Um hmm.
Me: [nose deeply into book]
CHW: I think I've skeered your wife! She looks horrified!
The plane takes off, the engines lessen, and the teenagers begin a game of Slap Jack on the tray on the back of my seat. I grit my teeth and turn on a DVD for us to watch. Unfortunately, watching is all I can do because of the engine noise, the teenage tribal yells, and the hormone woman.
Boy Teenager: [Slap!] BAAAHHHHHH!
Girl Teenager: Heeeeeeeeeeeeey!! You are SO mean! Heh-hee! CourteNAY! Peter is SO stupid!
Boy Teenager: [WHACK! Slap!] Booooyah!
Extraordinarily loud speaker: WE HAVE NOW REACHED OUR CRUISING ALTITUDE! THE CURRENT TIME IN TEXAS IS 4:30!
All Teenagers in Chorus: Yeah! TEXAS! Woooooooooooooo! TEXAS!
Boy Teenager: [WHAP! Slap!] You suck at this game.
Girl Teenager: Do not! Hee hee heeeeee! [Whap!]
CHW: YEW KIDS QUIT KICKIN' MAH SEAT!
Teenagers: We aren't.
CHW: I SAID STOP IT! (to Mike) You just can't take this crap from them. You gotta show who's boss.
Mike: Umhmmm. [fake watching movie we can't hear]
Et cetera. For two and a half hours. I really thought we would never land. But we did and I'm home. Gus was excessively excited and squealy and it's really nice to be back in my own bed. I've worked hard today to gather some pictures for my picture post, which will hopefully be up soon!
It seems that when teenagers travel together, they follow some sort of tribal mating ritual in which the boys must act retarded and the girls must squeal excessively and exert their jungle striking abilities. I'm certain that Eddie and I were really obnoxious teenagers, but this was something all new. And then it was compounded by Crazy Hormone Woman who was relocated to Mike's other side. The 2.5 hour plane ride went like this:
Mike and I were seated just in front of the teenagers. I was torn between casting them a withering glare and giving them my best "I'm a cool thirty year old pregnant chick" grin. You know, let's be pals. I elected to sit quietly and wait to see which would work best. The engines revved. It's been a long time since I sat in the very back of a plane and those engines are Loud. Capital L loud. I have really sensitive hearing. Then arrived Crazy Hormone Woman.
CHW: HI! I'm moving back here with y'all because they put me next to some mom who thought her kid was precious. I said, 'I gotta have my sleep! I'm telling you up front I may snore!' Ha ha ha!!
Mike: Hello.
CHW: So where are y'all from?!
Mike: We live in Texas, but we're originally from the Carolinas.
CHW: YOU are KIDDING?! That is so WILD!
Mike: Um hmm.
Me: [nose deeply into book]
CHW: I think I've skeered your wife! She looks horrified!
The plane takes off, the engines lessen, and the teenagers begin a game of Slap Jack on the tray on the back of my seat. I grit my teeth and turn on a DVD for us to watch. Unfortunately, watching is all I can do because of the engine noise, the teenage tribal yells, and the hormone woman.
Boy Teenager: [Slap!] BAAAHHHHHH!
Girl Teenager: Heeeeeeeeeeeeey!! You are SO mean! Heh-hee! CourteNAY! Peter is SO stupid!
Boy Teenager: [WHACK! Slap!] Booooyah!
Extraordinarily loud speaker: WE HAVE NOW REACHED OUR CRUISING ALTITUDE! THE CURRENT TIME IN TEXAS IS 4:30!
All Teenagers in Chorus: Yeah! TEXAS! Woooooooooooooo! TEXAS!
Boy Teenager: [WHAP! Slap!] You suck at this game.
Girl Teenager: Do not! Hee hee heeeeee! [Whap!]
CHW: YEW KIDS QUIT KICKIN' MAH SEAT!
Teenagers: We aren't.
CHW: I SAID STOP IT! (to Mike) You just can't take this crap from them. You gotta show who's boss.
Mike: Umhmmm. [fake watching movie we can't hear]
Et cetera. For two and a half hours. I really thought we would never land. But we did and I'm home. Gus was excessively excited and squealy and it's really nice to be back in my own bed. I've worked hard today to gather some pictures for my picture post, which will hopefully be up soon!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
