On Thursday we had a tv and pajama day. One of the things we watched was "The Lion King" and ever since then I've had the song "The Morning Report" stuck in my head. The only words I know are "This is the morning report. This is the long and the short." It's 2:21 in the morning and I'm up balancing the budget (yay), singing those two lines to myself over and over again (double yay). So in the spirit of that song, here's my morning report.
Me -- awake, working on finances, having snack, sitting on the sofa. Breaking up graham crackers into pieces for Nico snack baggies. Other morning activities included cleaning kitchen, putting away last of the groceries, and boiling water for tea but never actually making it. Currently debating whether having another snack is worth the heartburn.
Frank -- asleep, worked on freelance all day, looked worn out but still being extremely nice to me. He's a trooper.
Nico -- should be asleep, keeps waking up. Needed two drinks of water in the past hour (very unusual). Torn between wanting to be held and wanting to put himself to sleep. Currently being left alone to whine every five minutes and drift off again on his own.
Olivia -- getting squeezed by Braxtons, poor kid. Favorite hobby no longer waking me with kicks all night; now enjoys seeing how far my skin will stretch.
Mom -- possibly dreaming of getting "the call" in the middle of the night. Called to double check grandson's diaper size during a Sunday trip to BJ's. Best mom ever.
Liz -- sends homemade cookies to soldier friend in Afghanistan. Amazing.
Jen -- not on chat. Boo! hehe.
Monday, March 31
Sunday, March 30
Nothin' much
Last night I realized I don't have anywhere to go in the next few weeks. Well, there's food shopping and doctor appointments, but they are the things I'd usually do anyway so they don't count. I was putting dirty clothes in the laundry room, wandering back and forth down the hallway, trying to remember if I have to have clean pants for anything in the next few days. Nothing came to mind and I thought, wow, what a nice feeling! I actually started thinking about what I want to do for my birthday this year. It'll be something different than the usual crab and beer day, I think. A little change-up might be nice.
I finally finished "Raising Cain" and feel a little more informed on how to raise a boy and not have him turn out to be a complete mess. It's actually a good book even if you just interact with boys on a regular or even semi-regular basis. Today I'm going to the library to return that and pick up "What to Expect the Toddler Years". Also going to make a short stop at the market for some essentials, and try to make it back before Nico wakes up from his nap.
One thing Nico loves lately is hearing a song before he goes to sleep. Singing calms him down and makes it so much easier to put him down for naps or get him to sleep at night. I've grown bored with the standard lullabies and kiddie songs, so the other day I was racking my brain for a nice song and all I could think of was "I Shot the Sheriff". That's just what came out when I opened my mouth. Nico was asleep by the second verse. I've tried a few other Bob Marley classics but nothing works the same. So for now, Sheriff it is. Well I'm off to the library and food store. It's a nice day out so play yourself some Bob and relax a little.
I finally finished "Raising Cain" and feel a little more informed on how to raise a boy and not have him turn out to be a complete mess. It's actually a good book even if you just interact with boys on a regular or even semi-regular basis. Today I'm going to the library to return that and pick up "What to Expect the Toddler Years". Also going to make a short stop at the market for some essentials, and try to make it back before Nico wakes up from his nap.
One thing Nico loves lately is hearing a song before he goes to sleep. Singing calms him down and makes it so much easier to put him down for naps or get him to sleep at night. I've grown bored with the standard lullabies and kiddie songs, so the other day I was racking my brain for a nice song and all I could think of was "I Shot the Sheriff". That's just what came out when I opened my mouth. Nico was asleep by the second verse. I've tried a few other Bob Marley classics but nothing works the same. So for now, Sheriff it is. Well I'm off to the library and food store. It's a nice day out so play yourself some Bob and relax a little.
Saturday, March 29
Beans, beans. Good for the heart.
Allow me to toot my own horn and say that I make killer beans. Like 'rice and beans' beans. Arroz con frijoles. The rice part is pretty easy. Pour rice into rice cooker, add water, push button. The beans, though... that part took a while for me to really master. I used to add too much of one thing, not enough of another, and totally leave out one crucial element or another. I'd add cayenne and red pepper flakes, then be sooo mad when the beans were so damn hot I couldn't eat them. Tonight I laughed to myself about how I always used to add carrots. Seriously, what was I thinking?
Now don't laugh, but in a weird way I consider myself an Honorary Latina. And what better way to express my (say it like Agador in "The Birdcage") "Latin-ness" than with my yummy frijoles? Tonight I made a double batch so I can have burritos for the next few days, and possibly all week long. Even though I like Amy's Organics, I can do homemade burritos exactly the way I want them, twice the size, and for a fraction of the cost. It hurts me deep down to hold myself back from eating two store-bought burritos, because I picture myself handing Amy $5 for them and I know I'll still be hungry afterward. And I like lettuce in my burritos, damn it. And lime juice. And if I want some cucumber diced up in there as well, Amy has nothing to say about it. So there. I would bet my $5 that Amy's not even close to being a Latina. Not like me, La Rivera.
Over the years I've grown so proud of my beans. You know how I know they're good? Tonight Frank kept hovering around the pot on the stove. He tasted the beans a few times, and commented on how fresh they looked with the tomatoes and cilantro. Then he said they will be really good tomorrow (which is standard, because frijoles really are better the next day), and five minutes later he was back in the kitchen heating up rice and the chicken I baked last night, and topping it off with a few big spoonfuls of beans. Sí, señor.
Now don't laugh, but in a weird way I consider myself an Honorary Latina. And what better way to express my (say it like Agador in "The Birdcage") "Latin-ness" than with my yummy frijoles? Tonight I made a double batch so I can have burritos for the next few days, and possibly all week long. Even though I like Amy's Organics, I can do homemade burritos exactly the way I want them, twice the size, and for a fraction of the cost. It hurts me deep down to hold myself back from eating two store-bought burritos, because I picture myself handing Amy $5 for them and I know I'll still be hungry afterward. And I like lettuce in my burritos, damn it. And lime juice. And if I want some cucumber diced up in there as well, Amy has nothing to say about it. So there. I would bet my $5 that Amy's not even close to being a Latina. Not like me, La Rivera.
Over the years I've grown so proud of my beans. You know how I know they're good? Tonight Frank kept hovering around the pot on the stove. He tasted the beans a few times, and commented on how fresh they looked with the tomatoes and cilantro. Then he said they will be really good tomorrow (which is standard, because frijoles really are better the next day), and five minutes later he was back in the kitchen heating up rice and the chicken I baked last night, and topping it off with a few big spoonfuls of beans. Sí, señor.
Friday, March 28
I hear I look great from behind
From what I've been hearing, I don't look pregnant at all if you see me from the back. Nice to know. I guess I just look like I walk funny.
Well today was the swab test for group B strep. It was swab-a-riffic. Now I start going to the doctor every week. I'll go back next Friday, then the Friday after that, and the delivery is scheduled for the following Thursday. (Joey Lawrence) Whoa! I was pretty sure I would gain some weight and I did. I have to check what it was two weeks ago... I think it was 144. Today I am a proud 150. Just one pound short of my top Nico weight, and with three weeks to go. All is well, just the waiting, waiting, waiting of the next few weeks.
On the way out of the doctor's office today, I started crying as I was walking to my car. Maybe it's the stress on my body, or maybe it's the feeling I'm about to be hit with a tidal wave. Maybe it's a little of both. Or a lot of both. Or just knowing this is probably the last time I'm going to go through all of this. Anyway, I was walking and the baby was wiggling around, making it tough to move comfortably, and tears just started rolling down my cheeks. This whole time I've been saying oh I can't wait to not be pregnant anymore, and now that it's almost over all I want is just a little more time to have her all to myself. A little more time to keep her safe, to feel those kicks that only I can feel, and to daydream about what she'll be like. For the first time, I'm wishing that she will hang on until the 17th instead of showing up early. I know she'll be here when she's ready, but at least for this afternoon I just want her to stay put with me a little while longer.
Well today was the swab test for group B strep. It was swab-a-riffic. Now I start going to the doctor every week. I'll go back next Friday, then the Friday after that, and the delivery is scheduled for the following Thursday. (Joey Lawrence) Whoa! I was pretty sure I would gain some weight and I did. I have to check what it was two weeks ago... I think it was 144. Today I am a proud 150. Just one pound short of my top Nico weight, and with three weeks to go. All is well, just the waiting, waiting, waiting of the next few weeks.
On the way out of the doctor's office today, I started crying as I was walking to my car. Maybe it's the stress on my body, or maybe it's the feeling I'm about to be hit with a tidal wave. Maybe it's a little of both. Or a lot of both. Or just knowing this is probably the last time I'm going to go through all of this. Anyway, I was walking and the baby was wiggling around, making it tough to move comfortably, and tears just started rolling down my cheeks. This whole time I've been saying oh I can't wait to not be pregnant anymore, and now that it's almost over all I want is just a little more time to have her all to myself. A little more time to keep her safe, to feel those kicks that only I can feel, and to daydream about what she'll be like. For the first time, I'm wishing that she will hang on until the 17th instead of showing up early. I know she'll be here when she's ready, but at least for this afternoon I just want her to stay put with me a little while longer.
Thursday, March 27
Deliciously cute
The latest in Nico cuteness is not only cute, but funny as well. He's so clever, I swear. When we sit down to eat, as soon as he sees his food he goes, "mmmMMMmm" and smiles. Even cuter is the way he started doing it whenever he sees food in a book or on tv. He also goes "aaah" after he takes a big sip of his drink. Or if he sees me take a big gulp of my drink, he says "aaah" after I'm done. Every time he takes a bite and makes his cute little noises, I just want to scoop him up and squeeze him and tell him what a fantastic kid he is.
I'm guessing he got the whole mmmMMMmm thing from me doing it when I feed him. The same way I say "bzzzzt" when the dryer buzzes or "whoooo" when the tea kettle whistles. I'm a parrot. I know it's queer but I can't help it. So when the dryer goes off and Nico and I both say "bzzzzt" we just crack up. It's not just the repeating of the sounds that I find so interesting, he also seems to understand so many things now. Like last night I had the kitchen gate closed while I was doing dishes and he was standing in the living room looking at me. I said, "What are you doing? I know you know how to open that gate." He lifted the (unlocked) handle, pushed the gate open, and ran in giggling. Smarty pants.
I'm guessing he got the whole mmmMMMmm thing from me doing it when I feed him. The same way I say "bzzzzt" when the dryer buzzes or "whoooo" when the tea kettle whistles. I'm a parrot. I know it's queer but I can't help it. So when the dryer goes off and Nico and I both say "bzzzzt" we just crack up. It's not just the repeating of the sounds that I find so interesting, he also seems to understand so many things now. Like last night I had the kitchen gate closed while I was doing dishes and he was standing in the living room looking at me. I said, "What are you doing? I know you know how to open that gate." He lifted the (unlocked) handle, pushed the gate open, and ran in giggling. Smarty pants.
Wednesday, March 26
The Dolly Lama
I adore Dolly Parton. Ever since I was a little kid I've been fascinated by her. The clothes, the sparkles, the hair, and yes the gigantic boobies. Every time I see a documentary or any kind of television piece on her, I absolutely must watch.
We watch Sunday Morning on CBS every week and they do something about her every now and again. PBS too. I think she looks better now than she did ten years ago (thanks to some nippin' and tuckin'... and implantin'), but that's not the thing that amazes me anymore. It's just her. She's super smart, unbelievably kind, and one of the savviest businesswomen out there. Did you know Elvis wanted to buy part of the rights to "I Will Always Love You" and she turned him down? Because her father told her to always own as much of her work as possible. And her generosity... some of the things she's done personally and business-wise just blow me away. In a weird way, what's hers is hers alone, but at the same time she shares it with everyone she loves. She is the goddess of the music world as far as I am concerned.
I just Googled some Dolly quotes and this is my favorite one: "I'm not going to limit myself just because people won't accept the fact that I can do something else."
We watch Sunday Morning on CBS every week and they do something about her every now and again. PBS too. I think she looks better now than she did ten years ago (thanks to some nippin' and tuckin'... and implantin'), but that's not the thing that amazes me anymore. It's just her. She's super smart, unbelievably kind, and one of the savviest businesswomen out there. Did you know Elvis wanted to buy part of the rights to "I Will Always Love You" and she turned him down? Because her father told her to always own as much of her work as possible. And her generosity... some of the things she's done personally and business-wise just blow me away. In a weird way, what's hers is hers alone, but at the same time she shares it with everyone she loves. She is the goddess of the music world as far as I am concerned.
I just Googled some Dolly quotes and this is my favorite one: "I'm not going to limit myself just because people won't accept the fact that I can do something else."
Big list, small list
The big list of things to do is now the small list. Cleaning the carpets and finishing cleaning my closet are the two big things left. Oh and I would like to rearrange the kitchen cabinets. Everything else is just regular cleaning and maintenance.
Some jobs seem never-ending. Keeping the high chair clean, for instance. And picking up the food underneath it. I'm pretty big on trying to prevent bug infestation, so I like to do things like, say, pick up food that has fallen onto the floor. It's a no-brainer, but funny enough it doesn't always happen. Bending down isn't that simple sometimes so really I just do the best I can . I've learned life with kids take a lot of rearranging your agenda. If the house isn't spotless it's no big deal. Some days my best is better than it was the day before, and some days it's worse. There's motivation and there's sitting on the sofa.
Right now is my 'sitting on the sofa' time, but after I eat lunch and make hot chocolate it will be motivation time. I could skip lunch and maximize my cleaning time by going straight for the closet and zipping through what's left to be sorted out. But that wouldn't make sense since I'm hungry. Maybe instead of sitting here blabbing about it, I should get off the sofa, make lunch, and get down to the dirty work. Yep, sounds like a plan.
Oh I just have to mention, for some reason the back of my left hand smells like vanilla lotion. Odd, considering the only thing vanilla-scented I own is extract for baking, and as far as I'm aware, I haven't been rubbing that on myself.
Some jobs seem never-ending. Keeping the high chair clean, for instance. And picking up the food underneath it. I'm pretty big on trying to prevent bug infestation, so I like to do things like, say, pick up food that has fallen onto the floor. It's a no-brainer, but funny enough it doesn't always happen. Bending down isn't that simple sometimes so really I just do the best I can . I've learned life with kids take a lot of rearranging your agenda. If the house isn't spotless it's no big deal. Some days my best is better than it was the day before, and some days it's worse. There's motivation and there's sitting on the sofa.
Right now is my 'sitting on the sofa' time, but after I eat lunch and make hot chocolate it will be motivation time. I could skip lunch and maximize my cleaning time by going straight for the closet and zipping through what's left to be sorted out. But that wouldn't make sense since I'm hungry. Maybe instead of sitting here blabbing about it, I should get off the sofa, make lunch, and get down to the dirty work. Yep, sounds like a plan.
Oh I just have to mention, for some reason the back of my left hand smells like vanilla lotion. Odd, considering the only thing vanilla-scented I own is extract for baking, and as far as I'm aware, I haven't been rubbing that on myself.
Tuesday, March 25
Shop Rite, baby, party
Slowly but surely, last year's fishin' pants (aka: my roomiest prego-wear bottoms) have made their way back to the top of my list of wearable -- no, make that bearable -- items. My only regret is that I have but one pair. Are they sexy? No. Are they comfortable? Yes. These are the final weeks and comfy is my only concern. Every day I pray, please Lord, let this be the day. Amen. *sigh*
Jen and I were supposed to make a shoe shopping trip a few weeks ago. She needs to get shoes for Fay's wedding, and I want to look for something I like better than the shoes I already have. We still haven't gone to DSW, but we were talking about going the other day and she asked if I wanted to go before or after the baby comes. Hmm... good question. While dressing for a christening I discovered none of my cute shoes fit, so I could be shooting myself in the foot (yuk, yuk) buying anything right now. But waiting until May is cutting it close. Jen pointed out that trying to plan an outing in the next few weeks is also cutting it close. Not to Fay's big event, but to mine. Aha. In this final month I seem to have lost all perspective. April 17th seems so close and so far away at the same time. Jen was saying that my "due date" falls in between her next food shopping trip and her daughter's birthday party. Before she goes food shopping a second time, I'll have a second child. Thus, our order of events for April is: Shop Rite, baby, party.
I can say with about 98% certainty that I won't be able to make it to the birthday party. But if I do, at least I won't have to wear the fishin' pants. I had to wear them home from the hospital last time, and they were way too big. That's as it should be. The day I go to the hospital is the day the fishin' pants go into retirement. There's a 98% chance that will be my last time ever wearing them, and it almost makes me sad. Almost.
Jen and I were supposed to make a shoe shopping trip a few weeks ago. She needs to get shoes for Fay's wedding, and I want to look for something I like better than the shoes I already have. We still haven't gone to DSW, but we were talking about going the other day and she asked if I wanted to go before or after the baby comes. Hmm... good question. While dressing for a christening I discovered none of my cute shoes fit, so I could be shooting myself in the foot (yuk, yuk) buying anything right now. But waiting until May is cutting it close. Jen pointed out that trying to plan an outing in the next few weeks is also cutting it close. Not to Fay's big event, but to mine. Aha. In this final month I seem to have lost all perspective. April 17th seems so close and so far away at the same time. Jen was saying that my "due date" falls in between her next food shopping trip and her daughter's birthday party. Before she goes food shopping a second time, I'll have a second child. Thus, our order of events for April is: Shop Rite, baby, party.
I can say with about 98% certainty that I won't be able to make it to the birthday party. But if I do, at least I won't have to wear the fishin' pants. I had to wear them home from the hospital last time, and they were way too big. That's as it should be. The day I go to the hospital is the day the fishin' pants go into retirement. There's a 98% chance that will be my last time ever wearing them, and it almost makes me sad. Almost.
Monday, March 24
The Rooster at Easter
I have a wonderful friend who got me hooked on David Sedaris books. Easter always reminds me of the essay "You Can't Kill the Rooster" from the book "Me Talk Pretty One Day". All the candy... chocolate, Peeps, jelly beans... it creates a dilemma. Do I eat as much as I want? Do I try to exercise some self control? At times like this I follow Sedaris's foul-mouthed brother Paul's philosophy. Whether times are tough and you just want to dull the pain with sugar or there just happens to be extra candy lying around and you want an excuse to pig out, remember this passage and eat yourself all the candy you want.
This one is for you, Jackie :D
"When a hurricane damaged my father's house, my brother rushed over with a gas grill, three coolers full of beer, and an enormous Fuck-It Bucket -- a plastic pail filled with jawbreakers and bite-size candy bars. ("When shit brings you down, just say 'fuck it,' and eat yourself some motherfucking candy.")"
This one is for you, Jackie :D
"When a hurricane damaged my father's house, my brother rushed over with a gas grill, three coolers full of beer, and an enormous Fuck-It Bucket -- a plastic pail filled with jawbreakers and bite-size candy bars. ("When shit brings you down, just say 'fuck it,' and eat yourself some motherfucking candy.")"
The Egg Prince
Ok so I think I told you already that Nico caught on right away with the whole egg dying thing. Here's a picture of him at work with Mom...
Today we're enjoying the Easter candy he got. He really liked the Peeps from Mom, mostly pulling them apart and getting all sticky. Other than that it's a pretty uneventful day. We're watching Noggin, where we've seen all the episodes of all the shows we like. We'll have snack and then finish dusting Nico's room, and then he'll get his nap. Oops I better go, right now he's kicking his empty cereal bowl around the living room.
Today we're enjoying the Easter candy he got. He really liked the Peeps from Mom, mostly pulling them apart and getting all sticky. Other than that it's a pretty uneventful day. We're watching Noggin, where we've seen all the episodes of all the shows we like. We'll have snack and then finish dusting Nico's room, and then he'll get his nap. Oops I better go, right now he's kicking his empty cereal bowl around the living room.
Sunday, March 23
The Irish Hammer is now The Irish Sailor
In the glory days at my old job, we used to play a game called Quake. We'd all log on and get on speaker phone, then shoot the imaginary crap out of each other while hollering insults back and forth and laughing when we'd blast someone to pieces. My character of choice was Aeon Flux, but I'd go under the screen name of The Irish Hammer.
The Irish Hammer started off as The Irish Fist. One day Frank and I were bickering, and at one point I threatened to punch him in the face. It's just something we say to each other, like "If you don't shut up I swear I'll punch you in the face." Such a threat serves to make the other person giggle and it releases the tension. Then we break down into a back-and-forth of goofy insults and the argument is over. One of his favorite lines is "You're so lucky you're not a guy", to which I respond "No, YOU'RE lucky I'm not a guy". Anyhoo, one time we were fighting and out of nowhere I said, "If you don't get off my case, you'll get a taste of The Irish Fist!" Eventually The Fist became The Hammer in a more serious round of threats, and that has become kind of my unofficial super heroine name of choice.
Well last night The Irish Hammer decided to sleep on the sofa. It's so difficult to get comfortable anywhere anymore, so sometimes I'll get comfy on the sofa and just decide to camp out. From what I understand, last night Frank woke up around 3 or 4am and heard me snoring very loudly. When we were both awake a few hours later he said he wondered who was the sailor out there snoring away on his sofa. Hmm... no wonder I woke up with a sore throat, evidently I had been sawing wood all night. Hopefully it won't happen again... though I'm sure it will... so until I'm back to normal you can call me The Sailor.
The Irish Hammer started off as The Irish Fist. One day Frank and I were bickering, and at one point I threatened to punch him in the face. It's just something we say to each other, like "If you don't shut up I swear I'll punch you in the face." Such a threat serves to make the other person giggle and it releases the tension. Then we break down into a back-and-forth of goofy insults and the argument is over. One of his favorite lines is "You're so lucky you're not a guy", to which I respond "No, YOU'RE lucky I'm not a guy". Anyhoo, one time we were fighting and out of nowhere I said, "If you don't get off my case, you'll get a taste of The Irish Fist!" Eventually The Fist became The Hammer in a more serious round of threats, and that has become kind of my unofficial super heroine name of choice.
Well last night The Irish Hammer decided to sleep on the sofa. It's so difficult to get comfortable anywhere anymore, so sometimes I'll get comfy on the sofa and just decide to camp out. From what I understand, last night Frank woke up around 3 or 4am and heard me snoring very loudly. When we were both awake a few hours later he said he wondered who was the sailor out there snoring away on his sofa. Hmm... no wonder I woke up with a sore throat, evidently I had been sawing wood all night. Hopefully it won't happen again... though I'm sure it will... so until I'm back to normal you can call me The Sailor.
Scratch, scratch me back (chicka chicka chicka)
If there's one thing that makes everything better, it's a back scratch. Some people are into massages, some like foot rubs, but I love to get my back scratched. I could have the worst day ever and a back scratch would fix it all, or at least put things in perspective. I suppose you could call it my drug of choice.
I'm getting a lot of prego sympathy around the house now that I'm living large. Scratchy time happens almost every night. What a beautiful thing. I don't even have to ask, I just have to sit down next to Frank and clear my throat. Or flash a goofy smile. And there's entertainment that comes along with the big event. We see how long it takes him to unhook my bra with one hand. It's juvenile, yes, but it cracks us up. Usually he can do it in one second or less. Sha-zam! He says something like "Yep, still got it" or "Aww yeah". But sometimes there's fumbling, and I get to mock him excessively and say things like "I can't believe I married you" and "Boooo". I even pretend I'm not going to let someone so unskilled with ladies' undergarments get anywhere near my back.
We used to hang around with a friend of Frank's whose boyfriend was from France. Ellen and her man Pascal. Once Pascal ignited my imagination by regaling me with tales of a French spa technique wherein a horse hair mitt is used to buff the skin on your back. It can be combined with massaging, but shoot, who needs to be rubbed when you can be buffed? You could scratch me with a regular old hair brush for all I care. I'm not picky.
I'm getting a lot of prego sympathy around the house now that I'm living large. Scratchy time happens almost every night. What a beautiful thing. I don't even have to ask, I just have to sit down next to Frank and clear my throat. Or flash a goofy smile. And there's entertainment that comes along with the big event. We see how long it takes him to unhook my bra with one hand. It's juvenile, yes, but it cracks us up. Usually he can do it in one second or less. Sha-zam! He says something like "Yep, still got it" or "Aww yeah". But sometimes there's fumbling, and I get to mock him excessively and say things like "I can't believe I married you" and "Boooo". I even pretend I'm not going to let someone so unskilled with ladies' undergarments get anywhere near my back.
We used to hang around with a friend of Frank's whose boyfriend was from France. Ellen and her man Pascal. Once Pascal ignited my imagination by regaling me with tales of a French spa technique wherein a horse hair mitt is used to buff the skin on your back. It can be combined with massaging, but shoot, who needs to be rubbed when you can be buffed? You could scratch me with a regular old hair brush for all I care. I'm not picky.
Saturday, March 22
My little bunny
Last night Nico had his first Easter egg dying fiesta. Mom came over and she was holding Nico, helping him dip the eggs. He caught on right away and was dropping eggs into the cups, putting the colored eggs into a bowl, taking them out of the bowl, and putting them back in again. A pro. So cute. Today we're going to an Easter egg hunt and I know he's going to have a blast. After he goes to bed I'm going to run out to get some Easter Bunny supplies. I have to buy milk and fruit anyway, and even though I'll probably be exhausted and not really feel like going anywhere, at least I'll already be dressed and looking decent and the thought of stocking up on Reeses Mini Peanut Butter Cups may be enough to motivate me. We'll see, Frank may end up going instead. But he won't be allowed back in the house without the peanut butter cups. And Rain-Blo bubble gum eggs.
Friday, March 21
A new sudsy addiction
Ever since I switched from Target brand baby laundry detergent to Dreft, I can't use the damn washer enough. It started with just washing the baby clothes. Then I started washing Olivia's clothes. Now I'm using Dreft on the adult clothes sometimes, too. For myself and Frank I use all unfragranced wash stuff, so once in a while it's nice to have a little bit o' smell in there.
I've got a washer that is old, to put it politely. Old as shit, to put it bluntly. And it's not a big full-size one either. Now that I'm interested in super clean clothes (like I wanted them all partially clean before now), I run the rinse cycle twice. It only takes an extra ten minutes, and since the dryer takes a long time it doesn't 'make much difference anyway. I'm not setting myself back with the extra rinse.
Although the dryer takes forever, many times it manages to shrink things. So now it's low heat for 30 minutes, then I dry things on the rack. Except the baby clothes, which go round and round on delicate until they're dry and snuggly. Mmmm. Snuggly. For a while I was reluctant to use the drying rack because Nico would pull everything off and make a damp pile of clothes on the floor. But he doesn't bother it anymore. He prefers to wait for the baby stuff to come out of the dryer so he can jump and squeal and roll around on the nice warm onesies. When he does that it reminds me of when my brother and I would get ready for school in the morning. During the winter, we'd always take at least one thing we were going to wear each day and put it in the dryer for a couple of minutes. Nothing like putting on warm corduroys in the middle of January. Mmmm. Snuggly!
I've got a washer that is old, to put it politely. Old as shit, to put it bluntly. And it's not a big full-size one either. Now that I'm interested in super clean clothes (like I wanted them all partially clean before now), I run the rinse cycle twice. It only takes an extra ten minutes, and since the dryer takes a long time it doesn't 'make much difference anyway. I'm not setting myself back with the extra rinse.
Although the dryer takes forever, many times it manages to shrink things. So now it's low heat for 30 minutes, then I dry things on the rack. Except the baby clothes, which go round and round on delicate until they're dry and snuggly. Mmmm. Snuggly. For a while I was reluctant to use the drying rack because Nico would pull everything off and make a damp pile of clothes on the floor. But he doesn't bother it anymore. He prefers to wait for the baby stuff to come out of the dryer so he can jump and squeal and roll around on the nice warm onesies. When he does that it reminds me of when my brother and I would get ready for school in the morning. During the winter, we'd always take at least one thing we were going to wear each day and put it in the dryer for a couple of minutes. Nothing like putting on warm corduroys in the middle of January. Mmmm. Snuggly!
Wednesday, March 19
My secret boyfriend doesn't know I'm pregnant
The other day we saw a commercial for the new "Top Chef" and I said to Frank, "They really should have my secret boyfriend on that show this season." They always have on people like the charmingly robotic Ted Allen and the very lovely and very French Eric Ripert. And they are great guest judges. But tonight I was so happy to see Anthony Bourdain.
So... yeah... I was thinking I'd really have something more intelligent to say about this topic. I keep starting thoughts, but then they disappear. Life just seems strange right now. I'm getting ready for the baby. I'm taking care of my other baby. I hardly see my husband because he's either working at his job or he's working at home. I'm tired. All. The. Time. My hips are so out of joint and they hurt when I stand up and they hurt when I walk. I actually lost a pound so last week I weighed 143. Next week I expect I'll be at least two pounds heavier, though, judging by how I'm feeling now. And, so attractive, I have even more new stretch marks than I thought.
I know I'm complaining. So here are some things that are different this time around, in a good way. My skin is much better. No jawline breakouts. In fact, hardly any breakouts anywhere. My weight gain at 8 months prego this time is a mere 20 pounds as opposed to 45 with Nico. I feel more confident about all the baby care and the baby gear. It's much easier having been through it before. I'm not as scared this time. Being active now is going to help a lot when it's time to recover. I don't have big puffy ankles or sauzeech fingers. And after the baby is born I don't have to dread going back to work. Instead, I'm looking forward to having play groups and enjoying taking care of my babies. Tonight after that episode of "Top Chef" was over, Frank looked over at me and he said, "Don't you feel like life is pretty good now?" I smiled and said, "Yes, love."
So... yeah... I was thinking I'd really have something more intelligent to say about this topic. I keep starting thoughts, but then they disappear. Life just seems strange right now. I'm getting ready for the baby. I'm taking care of my other baby. I hardly see my husband because he's either working at his job or he's working at home. I'm tired. All. The. Time. My hips are so out of joint and they hurt when I stand up and they hurt when I walk. I actually lost a pound so last week I weighed 143. Next week I expect I'll be at least two pounds heavier, though, judging by how I'm feeling now. And, so attractive, I have even more new stretch marks than I thought.
I know I'm complaining. So here are some things that are different this time around, in a good way. My skin is much better. No jawline breakouts. In fact, hardly any breakouts anywhere. My weight gain at 8 months prego this time is a mere 20 pounds as opposed to 45 with Nico. I feel more confident about all the baby care and the baby gear. It's much easier having been through it before. I'm not as scared this time. Being active now is going to help a lot when it's time to recover. I don't have big puffy ankles or sauzeech fingers. And after the baby is born I don't have to dread going back to work. Instead, I'm looking forward to having play groups and enjoying taking care of my babies. Tonight after that episode of "Top Chef" was over, Frank looked over at me and he said, "Don't you feel like life is pretty good now?" I smiled and said, "Yes, love."
The password is...
I just realized something funny. I have trouble remembering my username and password for things unless I'm looking at the actual sign-in page. Like if I am paying the electric bill, it's a real struggle for me to recall what to enter to get into my account. Many of my IDs and passwords are the same or similar, depending on which sites need you to add numbers or capital letters or whatever. The ones I have the most trouble remembering are Frank's logins, even though I set many of them up myself.
Sort of similar is my need to look at a telephone when trying to remember a phone number. Even my own. I have to mentally dial it, and even then sometimes I'm not sure if I'm saying the right numbers. I mean really, how often do I call myself? And my fax number? I have it programmed into my cell since I always forget the right order. I know there are three sevens, an eight, a five, a six and some zeros. The area code's not to tough, but the rest of the numbers rearrange themselves on me all the time. Silly dancing numbers, they are.
I suppose the logical solution would be to make a list of all the sites I use and their login info. I do have two or three written down at the bottom of my budget spreadsheet. But somehow it seems like making a list would suck all the adventure out of using the computer. There's not much left for me to cling to in terms of computer excitement. Plus, if even I have to guess at my own passwords once in a while, it makes it all seem so new and fascinating and I get that little moment of celebration when I realize I've had a teeny weeny success in my day.
Sort of similar is my need to look at a telephone when trying to remember a phone number. Even my own. I have to mentally dial it, and even then sometimes I'm not sure if I'm saying the right numbers. I mean really, how often do I call myself? And my fax number? I have it programmed into my cell since I always forget the right order. I know there are three sevens, an eight, a five, a six and some zeros. The area code's not to tough, but the rest of the numbers rearrange themselves on me all the time. Silly dancing numbers, they are.
I suppose the logical solution would be to make a list of all the sites I use and their login info. I do have two or three written down at the bottom of my budget spreadsheet. But somehow it seems like making a list would suck all the adventure out of using the computer. There's not much left for me to cling to in terms of computer excitement. Plus, if even I have to guess at my own passwords once in a while, it makes it all seem so new and fascinating and I get that little moment of celebration when I realize I've had a teeny weeny success in my day.
Tuesday, March 18
Uhh...
I so don't have anything to talk about tonight. Last night I got two and a half hours of sleep. I'm so out of it, I really should just go to bed. This is how tired I am... I can't remember the last time I had emails to answer and went to bed without writing back. Probably should get used to that I guess. The whole tired thing. Should also probably get sleep at night while I still can. Nighty night.
He's a what? He's a what?
I can't believe my eyes. It's three o'clock in the morning, I'm flipping channels and I've just come across "The Music Man" on one of the HBOs. Oh my God, I'm just in time for "Gary, Indiana"! Gotta go.
Sunday, March 16
*phew*
So then... today was Fay's bridal shower. A landmark of sorts, in more ways than one. As with many a bride, the surprise wasn't as surprising as we bridesmaids hoped it would be. None the less, it was a beautiful afternoon and everyone had a lovely time. For our friend it's one big step closer to the big big big event which, now that the invitations are ready to go out, seems like it's coming up super fast. For me personally, today was the day I was using as the 'let's get there then I can really settle down' point. Now that it's come and (almost) gone, this is true baby prep time. No more favors to put together, no more bridal shower bingo boards to print out. From here on out, it's all baby, baby!
One thing that made today exciting was Jen bringing me a huge bag of baby girl clothes. They're all sooo cute, even Nico was looking through everything. Granted, he just wanted to make a big pile to hide under, but he was interested and that's what counts. We're so well set up with onesies and pj's that I don't think I have to buy any more clothes at all. I'd gone out two weeks ago to get Olivia her hospital photo outfit and something to wear home, and Mom bought her a bunch of things for the summer, so the clothing is really one big task I can now cross off my list. Sweet!
When I got home after the bridal shower, the boys were having such a nice time together that I laid down on the living room floor and took a nap. Woke up around six, did the whole dinner/nighty night routine, and went out food shopping. Being one of twenty or so night time shoppers is really starting to grow on me. I've noticed my body slowing down a lot in the past week. Even with the shopping cart to lean on tonight I found myself waddling through the aisles and taking short breaks to let my hips adjust. When I have to turn my body around I look less like a ballerina and more like Violet Beauregard after she became a blueberry. I would have not been the least bit surprised to notice Oompa Loompas following me, waiting to burst into chorus.
Well I'm off to finish putting groceries away, load the dishwasher, and count my new stretch marks. Buenas noches.
One thing that made today exciting was Jen bringing me a huge bag of baby girl clothes. They're all sooo cute, even Nico was looking through everything. Granted, he just wanted to make a big pile to hide under, but he was interested and that's what counts. We're so well set up with onesies and pj's that I don't think I have to buy any more clothes at all. I'd gone out two weeks ago to get Olivia her hospital photo outfit and something to wear home, and Mom bought her a bunch of things for the summer, so the clothing is really one big task I can now cross off my list. Sweet!
When I got home after the bridal shower, the boys were having such a nice time together that I laid down on the living room floor and took a nap. Woke up around six, did the whole dinner/nighty night routine, and went out food shopping. Being one of twenty or so night time shoppers is really starting to grow on me. I've noticed my body slowing down a lot in the past week. Even with the shopping cart to lean on tonight I found myself waddling through the aisles and taking short breaks to let my hips adjust. When I have to turn my body around I look less like a ballerina and more like Violet Beauregard after she became a blueberry. I would have not been the least bit surprised to notice Oompa Loompas following me, waiting to burst into chorus.
Well I'm off to finish putting groceries away, load the dishwasher, and count my new stretch marks. Buenas noches.
Stupid quotes from the cash cow
You know I love to watch QVC. Sometimes, though, I get so annoyed when the host says stupid things. Here are some highlights from tonight's (rather, this early morning's) Bobbi Brown makeup segment, and some of my reactions:
"Tonya's from California, so she knows all about Cali."
Bad hostess. Bad. BTW, Tonya is so obviously not a natural blond. Please.
"We're gettin' our beauty on."
That is sooo stupid.
"We've got the, the, the cream compact foundation and if you are getting a foundation, that is the one to have."
Sure, until you introduce the next foundation which I also cannot live -- or be pretty -- without.
"Here is the problem we're solving for you with this eyeshadow compact -- day to night. If you're having trouble with that."
How did you know I am struggling with going from day to night? You are the answer to all my prayers.
"These colors are really so wearable."
$60 for some eye shadows? It damn well better be wearable.
I've never seen this hostess before, and I hope I never see her again. Next time, talk about gettin' your beauty on during the Tova Borgnine segment, not during Bobbi Brown. Gross.
"Tonya's from California, so she knows all about Cali."
Bad hostess. Bad. BTW, Tonya is so obviously not a natural blond. Please.
"We're gettin' our beauty on."
That is sooo stupid.
"We've got the, the, the cream compact foundation and if you are getting a foundation, that is the one to have."
Sure, until you introduce the next foundation which I also cannot live -- or be pretty -- without.
"Here is the problem we're solving for you with this eyeshadow compact -- day to night. If you're having trouble with that."
How did you know I am struggling with going from day to night? You are the answer to all my prayers.
"These colors are really so wearable."
$60 for some eye shadows? It damn well better be wearable.
I've never seen this hostess before, and I hope I never see her again. Next time, talk about gettin' your beauty on during the Tova Borgnine segment, not during Bobbi Brown. Gross.
Saturday, March 15
A sorta Tori story
Tori Amos has long been one of my favorite musicians. There have been a few albums I haven't really connected with, but for the most part I love her music. Jen and I used to go to this tiny little record store on 4th Street in Philly to buy Tori bootlegs, back in the days when making a copy of a cd involved one cd and one audio cassette tape. It wasn't, "Hey lemme burn a copy of that." It was, "Hey lemme tape that cd."
So imagine my horror when, yesterday, I was driving to my doctor appointment listening to 88.5 and heard a song that made me ask myself who the hell was this person singing and what's up with their crappy song. I turned up the volume and it was the new Tori. Oops! Well then. I guess this new stuff is one of those times when I'll be content to let others tell me whether the whole album is good, bad or just ok. I know you can't really judge the whole thing on the merit of just one song, but usually the one they pick for the radio is a pretty good indicator for my ears. It's their way of calling out the part they think most people will find attractive. Not sure if that's how it all really works, but that's what I imagine.
Something tells me my taste in music has changed anyway. I'm enchanted by the newest Radiohead, but aside from that it has been difficult for me to keep up with music in general. I've got a short stack of cds in my car but the only one that ever gets any play is "Free to Be You and Me". I just don't find anything else to be of any interest. When Madonna's "Confessions on a Dancefloor" came out and I was listening to it five times a day, I offered it to Jen and was baffled when she mentioned she wasn't that into the latest music anymore. Now I understand completely. Keeping up with music is just another one of those things in the wading pool at the bottom of the list. Murky little collection of things to do, like 'wear high heels', 'go shopping at the mall', 'follow latest fashion trends', 'drive fancy car', 'have latest cell phone', etc. My cell phone is about four years old and I'm keeping it until it's either dead or spontaneously combusts. Whichever comes first.
So imagine my horror when, yesterday, I was driving to my doctor appointment listening to 88.5 and heard a song that made me ask myself who the hell was this person singing and what's up with their crappy song. I turned up the volume and it was the new Tori. Oops! Well then. I guess this new stuff is one of those times when I'll be content to let others tell me whether the whole album is good, bad or just ok. I know you can't really judge the whole thing on the merit of just one song, but usually the one they pick for the radio is a pretty good indicator for my ears. It's their way of calling out the part they think most people will find attractive. Not sure if that's how it all really works, but that's what I imagine.
Something tells me my taste in music has changed anyway. I'm enchanted by the newest Radiohead, but aside from that it has been difficult for me to keep up with music in general. I've got a short stack of cds in my car but the only one that ever gets any play is "Free to Be You and Me". I just don't find anything else to be of any interest. When Madonna's "Confessions on a Dancefloor" came out and I was listening to it five times a day, I offered it to Jen and was baffled when she mentioned she wasn't that into the latest music anymore. Now I understand completely. Keeping up with music is just another one of those things in the wading pool at the bottom of the list. Murky little collection of things to do, like 'wear high heels', 'go shopping at the mall', 'follow latest fashion trends', 'drive fancy car', 'have latest cell phone', etc. My cell phone is about four years old and I'm keeping it until it's either dead or spontaneously combusts. Whichever comes first.
Friday, March 14
Harry Notter
I just thought of something that could be added to last night's list of 10 things (see below). For some reason, it's extremely difficult for me to read any of the Harry Potter books. I've tried several times and it may sound completely retarded but I just can't get into the rhythm. It takes so much effort that I give up.
Yes, I am aware that, like, seven-year-olds read these books. There are a couple of main things that trip me up. One is the feeling that I'm supposed to be loving the books. Everyone else loves them, so why not me? It's too much pressure. Another thing is the way they're written. It's just not that style that appeals to me and comes naturally to my brain patterns. And when there are words in a book that I'm not sure how to pronounce, it makes my reading drag on and on because I obsess about trying to say it right in my head, when all I want to do is know how to really say it so I can move on. Like Hermione. If not for the movies, I'd have no idea how to pronounce that. I would spend the whole book saying "HER-mee-own". It sounds like a made up name. That's another thing about those books... all the made up words. So annoying. Muggle? Quiddich? Come on. Wait, those are made up, right? Any wizards or warlocks in the house who can verify that for me?
So there you go. It's totally embarrassing, but I can't read Harry Potter. Add that to your list of things not to buy me for my birthday.
Yes, I am aware that, like, seven-year-olds read these books. There are a couple of main things that trip me up. One is the feeling that I'm supposed to be loving the books. Everyone else loves them, so why not me? It's too much pressure. Another thing is the way they're written. It's just not that style that appeals to me and comes naturally to my brain patterns. And when there are words in a book that I'm not sure how to pronounce, it makes my reading drag on and on because I obsess about trying to say it right in my head, when all I want to do is know how to really say it so I can move on. Like Hermione. If not for the movies, I'd have no idea how to pronounce that. I would spend the whole book saying "HER-mee-own". It sounds like a made up name. That's another thing about those books... all the made up words. So annoying. Muggle? Quiddich? Come on. Wait, those are made up, right? Any wizards or warlocks in the house who can verify that for me?
So there you go. It's totally embarrassing, but I can't read Harry Potter. Add that to your list of things not to buy me for my birthday.
Thursday, March 13
Tag, I'm it!
My sister has tagged me, and here are my instructions. Since I have the non-blogginest group of friends around, it might take me a little time to tag someone else but I'm going to give it a go.
*** Here's how you play: Once you've been tagged you have to write a blog with 10 weird, random facts, habits, or goals about yourself. Don't forget to tag someone else and leave them a comment saying "You're It!" and to go read your blog. You cannot tag the person that tagged you; since you can't tag me back, let me know when you are done so that I can go read YOUR blog answers. ***
Okay so here are my 10 things...
1. The order of my nightly toothbrushing ritual is as follows: mouthwash, floss, brush. After rinsing toothbrush thoroughly, give it two quick shakes to knock off the excess water. In the morning the only thing I do is brush, and I only floss in the daytime if something gets stuck in my teeth.
2. I used to be unable to eat mushrooms. Now I like the flavor and can eat one without gagging.
3. I love knitting. Sometimes I just sit and knit without trying to make anything.
4. Nine out of ten things that annoy me have to do with listening to or watching other people eat or chew gum. For example, I have to leave the room before Frank starts eating grapes or I go completely bonkers. I have no idea why. I can't tell you how many times I've shouted, "Loudest grape eater EVER!" at him, stormed out of the room, and slammed the door. There are times when my own chewing annoys me, and I have to stop and find something else to eat.
5. I enjoy reading non-fiction books about mental illness.
6. One thing I would very much like to do is learn French. I've only ever taken Spanish, which has served me well, but if I could do high school over again I would also take French. I also want to live in France.
7. Mint chocolate chip ice cream and "The Wizard of Oz" always remind me of my dad.
8. I wish I had a great big garden. Wouldn't matter if it were filled with flowers or veggies or both. I just wish I had a space where I could dig in the dirt and take care of my plants. One day I will have the great big garden of my dreams, and I'll have special cute little outfits to wear while tending to it, complete with matching gloves, clogs, knee pads and gardening tools. Oh and I'll have a kick-ass gardening shed, too.
9. Even though it doesn't matter deep down who Olivia looks like, there is a little part of me that hopes she looks like her mommy. Frank's got a mini me, and I want one too.
10. I hate sweat pants.
*** Here's how you play: Once you've been tagged you have to write a blog with 10 weird, random facts, habits, or goals about yourself. Don't forget to tag someone else and leave them a comment saying "You're It!" and to go read your blog. You cannot tag the person that tagged you; since you can't tag me back, let me know when you are done so that I can go read YOUR blog answers. ***
Okay so here are my 10 things...
1. The order of my nightly toothbrushing ritual is as follows: mouthwash, floss, brush. After rinsing toothbrush thoroughly, give it two quick shakes to knock off the excess water. In the morning the only thing I do is brush, and I only floss in the daytime if something gets stuck in my teeth.
2. I used to be unable to eat mushrooms. Now I like the flavor and can eat one without gagging.
3. I love knitting. Sometimes I just sit and knit without trying to make anything.
4. Nine out of ten things that annoy me have to do with listening to or watching other people eat or chew gum. For example, I have to leave the room before Frank starts eating grapes or I go completely bonkers. I have no idea why. I can't tell you how many times I've shouted, "Loudest grape eater EVER!" at him, stormed out of the room, and slammed the door. There are times when my own chewing annoys me, and I have to stop and find something else to eat.
5. I enjoy reading non-fiction books about mental illness.
6. One thing I would very much like to do is learn French. I've only ever taken Spanish, which has served me well, but if I could do high school over again I would also take French. I also want to live in France.
7. Mint chocolate chip ice cream and "The Wizard of Oz" always remind me of my dad.
8. I wish I had a great big garden. Wouldn't matter if it were filled with flowers or veggies or both. I just wish I had a space where I could dig in the dirt and take care of my plants. One day I will have the great big garden of my dreams, and I'll have special cute little outfits to wear while tending to it, complete with matching gloves, clogs, knee pads and gardening tools. Oh and I'll have a kick-ass gardening shed, too.
9. Even though it doesn't matter deep down who Olivia looks like, there is a little part of me that hopes she looks like her mommy. Frank's got a mini me, and I want one too.
10. I hate sweat pants.
Wednesday, March 12
Dangerous fumes
I wonder what it would take to register my ass as a lethal weapon. I've been so completely embarrassingly gassy since yesterday. Some would argue it's been longer than that, but they're not writing this so too bad. Ok so I did have a burrito the other day, and that kind of thing never seems to help in a fart situation.
It would make more sense to me if, during pregnancy, you actually has less gas than usual, if only for the lack of space. Friday is supposed to be a food shopping day, but if the situation doesn't improve then I'm not going. I like Wegman's. I don't want to be banned from my favorite food store. Take away my Target, my Whole Foods, or my Shop Rite. I don't care about stinking people out in any of those places. Since Whole Foods did that big expansion, most of the people who shop there deserve to have someone fart near them. It used to be fun to go there, but the past few times I've been, it's like a zoo. Animals. Just animals. And far too crowded. It seemed less crowded when it was smaller, if that makes any sense. And Target... most often it's the employees I'd like to gas out, but most of the shoppers are perfectly okay with me.
Since I'm hungry and not sure what to eat, I might wind up having another burrito. I love them, the Amy's Organics ones. I bought six or eight of them on Monday. If you happen to have any plans with me this weekend, it would be wise to consider canceling. I'll understand.
It would make more sense to me if, during pregnancy, you actually has less gas than usual, if only for the lack of space. Friday is supposed to be a food shopping day, but if the situation doesn't improve then I'm not going. I like Wegman's. I don't want to be banned from my favorite food store. Take away my Target, my Whole Foods, or my Shop Rite. I don't care about stinking people out in any of those places. Since Whole Foods did that big expansion, most of the people who shop there deserve to have someone fart near them. It used to be fun to go there, but the past few times I've been, it's like a zoo. Animals. Just animals. And far too crowded. It seemed less crowded when it was smaller, if that makes any sense. And Target... most often it's the employees I'd like to gas out, but most of the shoppers are perfectly okay with me.
Since I'm hungry and not sure what to eat, I might wind up having another burrito. I love them, the Amy's Organics ones. I bought six or eight of them on Monday. If you happen to have any plans with me this weekend, it would be wise to consider canceling. I'll understand.
Late bird
No matter how hard I try, or how tired I am, I just can't seem to get to bed before midnight or one in the morning. Like tonight. I finished up a project at the dining room table, had a snack, cleaned up, and it's already 12:30. And I still have to shower.
Hopefully next week I can start getting to bed at a decent time. At least when I do go to bed I've been getting enough sleep to make it through the following morning. The back pain only hits when I stand up, and I've only been waking up to pee once overnight. Today I had a cup of coffee and still felt tired, and I guess Nico can tell things are changing because he was so good about me being sleepy today. When I took him out of the crib, he sat with me in the rocker and snuggled my belly. Put his head right down on my lap, turned on his side, curled his legs around to my right, and rested his left arm right on top of the baby and laughed. Later, after the first episode of "Jack's Big Music Show", I laid on the sofa and watched him play blocks and go back and forth to the tv. Every few minuted he'd come over and put his cheek on my cheek, or shout in my face and run away giggling.
This whole going to bed late thing should calm down next week. At least that's what I'm hoping for. It's hard though. Sometimes I just lose track of time or have too many things to do. Or I'm up enjoying the quiet. That's pretty much what I'm doing right now. I'm going to try to take a record speed shower and be in bed by 1am. That'll give me a nice six hour chunk of dream time and tomorrow I can start fresh.
Hopefully next week I can start getting to bed at a decent time. At least when I do go to bed I've been getting enough sleep to make it through the following morning. The back pain only hits when I stand up, and I've only been waking up to pee once overnight. Today I had a cup of coffee and still felt tired, and I guess Nico can tell things are changing because he was so good about me being sleepy today. When I took him out of the crib, he sat with me in the rocker and snuggled my belly. Put his head right down on my lap, turned on his side, curled his legs around to my right, and rested his left arm right on top of the baby and laughed. Later, after the first episode of "Jack's Big Music Show", I laid on the sofa and watched him play blocks and go back and forth to the tv. Every few minuted he'd come over and put his cheek on my cheek, or shout in my face and run away giggling.
This whole going to bed late thing should calm down next week. At least that's what I'm hoping for. It's hard though. Sometimes I just lose track of time or have too many things to do. Or I'm up enjoying the quiet. That's pretty much what I'm doing right now. I'm going to try to take a record speed shower and be in bed by 1am. That'll give me a nice six hour chunk of dream time and tomorrow I can start fresh.
Tuesday, March 11
Crap, crap everywhere
I started cleaning out my side of the bedroom closet last night, and threw out a laundry basket worth of junk. Funny thing... when I was sitting on the floor sorting out what I wanted to keep and what I wanted to toss, so many things that used to mean so much to me ended up in the junk pile. I couldn't get rid of enough "things". Shoes and jewelry and purses, papers and various other space-taker-uppers that were once sooo important I just had to keep them because I was sure one day I'd be really happy I still had them. Basically it was a repeat of last week's bathroom closet bonanza, but with different, more expensive junk.
There's still work to be done in there, but it was a good start. Most of what's left is folding and sorting through more clothes that will never fit again. This afternoon I divided and filed all the papers lying around the living room and on the kitchen counter. 90% of them went to the shred or recycle piles. Fine by me. Can I just ask you, what is up with me keeping candles that are 85% burned? Like one day this summer I'm going to want to smell Holiday Wreath. Tonight I'm taking out the kitchen trash and the candles are coming along for the ride.
Isn't there some theory about the universe always tending to move towards chaos? So what's the point of cleaning things when they'll just get messy again? I don't know if it even matters, but at least cleaning out all the useless pieces of my old life has some aesthetic value. It looks cleaner, it feels cleaner, and I feel better. I feel like who I am now, instead of me being who I am now and clinging to who I used to be. They're just things, and I never want to go back to the place and time when they actually meant something. And they're not even things I want any more. I almost resent their still being here. So I guess tonight and tomorrow and the day after that, I'll be lining up more of my old stuff and marching it out to the dumpster. The goal is to be done clearing it all out by the end of the week, and then I can move on to other things. Finally.
There's still work to be done in there, but it was a good start. Most of what's left is folding and sorting through more clothes that will never fit again. This afternoon I divided and filed all the papers lying around the living room and on the kitchen counter. 90% of them went to the shred or recycle piles. Fine by me. Can I just ask you, what is up with me keeping candles that are 85% burned? Like one day this summer I'm going to want to smell Holiday Wreath. Tonight I'm taking out the kitchen trash and the candles are coming along for the ride.
Isn't there some theory about the universe always tending to move towards chaos? So what's the point of cleaning things when they'll just get messy again? I don't know if it even matters, but at least cleaning out all the useless pieces of my old life has some aesthetic value. It looks cleaner, it feels cleaner, and I feel better. I feel like who I am now, instead of me being who I am now and clinging to who I used to be. They're just things, and I never want to go back to the place and time when they actually meant something. And they're not even things I want any more. I almost resent their still being here. So I guess tonight and tomorrow and the day after that, I'll be lining up more of my old stuff and marching it out to the dumpster. The goal is to be done clearing it all out by the end of the week, and then I can move on to other things. Finally.
Saturday, March 8
Everything is so fixed
Getting a nice haircut. Nothing like it.
Today I made my way over to Salon Rouge, and after I got my hair all fixified I felt so damn pretty that I treated my eyebrows to a touch-up. I think my head lost ten pounds. Since I'm not shedding any hair, and won't for probably another six months or so, there was about an extra third of the normal volume. Gross. But it's all better now.
As if looking and feeling better wasn't enough, we had a small miracle happen this evening after a power outage. For weeks our wireless router hadn't been working. We have no idea why. We moved the tv and when we plugged all the gadgets back in, our network wasn't functioning. It was like our computers had done something to piss off the wireless, and they weren't speaking to one another. We decided we were going to treat ourselves to a new wireless router. The Mac router. Oooh. You see, when something doesn't work right, like a computer or a car, I have the tendency to believe that these mechanical things have the ability to fix themselves. If my car makes a weird noise, I don't go to the mechanic right away. I wait for the car to fix itself. It almost always works. Same with my computer. When I'm having file trouble or program trouble, I just do my thing, give it a few days, and magically it works itself out. Regardless, we've been eyeing the Mac wireless guy and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to go for it.
With this broken wireless thing, nothing we tried worked. All the usually effective unplugging and replugging, connecting with *ick* wires, having the cable company reset the modem, blah blah blah... nothing. So we just unplugged the power strip and switched to using a neighbor's network, SamLuisDan. We felt so... so... unclean! We aren't sure, but we think we know which neighbors they are. I'm sure they're nice enough fellows, but still we like to use our own network named after our former fatass cat Buddha. Around 6:00 today the power went out, and a little while later I tried to email something and couldn't connect on SamLuisDan. Uh-oh! Again, tried the usual fixes and still nothing. So I took a chance, plugged our shite back in, switched to Buddha and restarted. I'm delighted to report that Buddha is back in a big way. Something must have happened with the power failure, and my computer fixed itself. Smarty pants. I feel like I can once again show my face around the neighborhood without having people point and stare. "Oh, THAT's the girl who's stealing SamLuisDan. Shame, shame," they all say. Well neighbors, I can now hold my freshly do'ed, good-lookin' eyebrowed head high, wave and say hello.
Today I made my way over to Salon Rouge, and after I got my hair all fixified I felt so damn pretty that I treated my eyebrows to a touch-up. I think my head lost ten pounds. Since I'm not shedding any hair, and won't for probably another six months or so, there was about an extra third of the normal volume. Gross. But it's all better now.
As if looking and feeling better wasn't enough, we had a small miracle happen this evening after a power outage. For weeks our wireless router hadn't been working. We have no idea why. We moved the tv and when we plugged all the gadgets back in, our network wasn't functioning. It was like our computers had done something to piss off the wireless, and they weren't speaking to one another. We decided we were going to treat ourselves to a new wireless router. The Mac router. Oooh. You see, when something doesn't work right, like a computer or a car, I have the tendency to believe that these mechanical things have the ability to fix themselves. If my car makes a weird noise, I don't go to the mechanic right away. I wait for the car to fix itself. It almost always works. Same with my computer. When I'm having file trouble or program trouble, I just do my thing, give it a few days, and magically it works itself out. Regardless, we've been eyeing the Mac wireless guy and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to go for it.
With this broken wireless thing, nothing we tried worked. All the usually effective unplugging and replugging, connecting with *ick* wires, having the cable company reset the modem, blah blah blah... nothing. So we just unplugged the power strip and switched to using a neighbor's network, SamLuisDan. We felt so... so... unclean! We aren't sure, but we think we know which neighbors they are. I'm sure they're nice enough fellows, but still we like to use our own network named after our former fatass cat Buddha. Around 6:00 today the power went out, and a little while later I tried to email something and couldn't connect on SamLuisDan. Uh-oh! Again, tried the usual fixes and still nothing. So I took a chance, plugged our shite back in, switched to Buddha and restarted. I'm delighted to report that Buddha is back in a big way. Something must have happened with the power failure, and my computer fixed itself. Smarty pants. I feel like I can once again show my face around the neighborhood without having people point and stare. "Oh, THAT's the girl who's stealing SamLuisDan. Shame, shame," they all say. Well neighbors, I can now hold my freshly do'ed, good-lookin' eyebrowed head high, wave and say hello.
Friday, March 7
IKEA. IHOP. Poop deck.
A busy morning/early afternoon. Had to pick up something at IKEA, and I've been putting off the trip. Today I finally gave in and we left pre-10am. Not that it's really that far to Philly, but it's far enough. So IKEA was good, and I wanted to take Nico for brunch at the café there but honest to God I couldn't find my way there. That place is like a maze and a fortress in one. I ended up at the checkout and figured it was a sign that we should go to IHOP instead. Fair enough.
So we paid, went back to Cherry Hill for IHOP and had a great time. Then we hit Michael's on the way home and by the time we left there it was after 2pm. Nico fell asleep in the car, and he was so tired that when we got up to his bedroom he just laid on the floor and let me change his diapey (too much pee pees and it leaked) and give him a fresh outfit. I switched from Target brand baby detergent to Dreft and now his clothes smell so... baby. I love it. I gotta say he held up pretty well for all the running around. He loved IHOP. Pancakes are the new treat. They have this kids menu item now, it's a stack of pancakes with pink icing, colored sprinkle dots and a pink lollipop stuck in the top. The pancakes are different sizes, big on bottom to small on top, so it looks like a Dr. Seuss pancake mountain (they have Horton promo kids meals now). Mind you, I did not feed that flapjack horror to my child. I figured regular pancakes with strawberry syrup was enough. He mostly ate eggs, but you can't eat at IHOP and not have pancakes, even if you're only 1.
I'm wiped out from today's adventures. Gonna rest my bones. Decided not to buy new pj's for the hospital since I can't find anything I really like enough to spend money on. Still hunting for slippers though. The hospital bag is just about ready to go. My big fancy haircut is tomorrow. Tonight I'll probably be able to get some more stuff done around here. I'll leave you with a quote from a recent episode of "Family Guy" where Lois and Peter were on a cruise ship. Lois's line may not be exact, but it's the best I can remember...
Lois: Peter, you're so embarrassing!
Peter: It is called 'the poop deck', and that is why I pooped there.
So we paid, went back to Cherry Hill for IHOP and had a great time. Then we hit Michael's on the way home and by the time we left there it was after 2pm. Nico fell asleep in the car, and he was so tired that when we got up to his bedroom he just laid on the floor and let me change his diapey (too much pee pees and it leaked) and give him a fresh outfit. I switched from Target brand baby detergent to Dreft and now his clothes smell so... baby. I love it. I gotta say he held up pretty well for all the running around. He loved IHOP. Pancakes are the new treat. They have this kids menu item now, it's a stack of pancakes with pink icing, colored sprinkle dots and a pink lollipop stuck in the top. The pancakes are different sizes, big on bottom to small on top, so it looks like a Dr. Seuss pancake mountain (they have Horton promo kids meals now). Mind you, I did not feed that flapjack horror to my child. I figured regular pancakes with strawberry syrup was enough. He mostly ate eggs, but you can't eat at IHOP and not have pancakes, even if you're only 1.
I'm wiped out from today's adventures. Gonna rest my bones. Decided not to buy new pj's for the hospital since I can't find anything I really like enough to spend money on. Still hunting for slippers though. The hospital bag is just about ready to go. My big fancy haircut is tomorrow. Tonight I'll probably be able to get some more stuff done around here. I'll leave you with a quote from a recent episode of "Family Guy" where Lois and Peter were on a cruise ship. Lois's line may not be exact, but it's the best I can remember...
Lois: Peter, you're so embarrassing!
Peter: It is called 'the poop deck', and that is why I pooped there.
Thursday, March 6
(say it like Veruca Salt) And by the way...
I woke up today even more gigantic than yesterday. How is that possible? Six more weeks to go and I think that may be a bit too long. Feels like I've got the biggest belly EVER and nowhere to put it. It has dropped low enough to make people think I might have two butts. One in the front and one in the back. Seriously, I saw reflection in the tv this morning and that's the first thing that came to mind.
My next doctor appointment is next Friday and the first thing I'm going to ask is whether they would possibly take me early. No, I won't really ask that, because I already know the answer. But I happened to be reading this Christina Aguilera interview and she scheduled her delivery for 37 weeks. Because she didn't want any surprises. Ok so we normal people have to wait it out, I see how it is. If I had the choice I wouldn't actually schedule earlier than my doctor's required 39 weeks. My logic is that when the baby is ready, she's ready. I'll be shocked if I have to wait that long, though. I think she'll be ready April 10th.
All that aside, I remain huge. And getting huge-er.
My next doctor appointment is next Friday and the first thing I'm going to ask is whether they would possibly take me early. No, I won't really ask that, because I already know the answer. But I happened to be reading this Christina Aguilera interview and she scheduled her delivery for 37 weeks. Because she didn't want any surprises. Ok so we normal people have to wait it out, I see how it is. If I had the choice I wouldn't actually schedule earlier than my doctor's required 39 weeks. My logic is that when the baby is ready, she's ready. I'll be shocked if I have to wait that long, though. I think she'll be ready April 10th.
All that aside, I remain huge. And getting huge-er.
Relaaaax... want some nitrous oxide?
hehe. Oh, I forgot to tell you to say that like Steve Martin.
It's another early nap day for Mr. Chin Chin Chin. So here I am, deciding what to do, eating a fortune cookie. Should I clean? Have lunch? I decided to consult the fortune, and it says -- no joke -- 'Relax and enjoy yourself'.
I started repeating the word 'relax' in my head, and I wound up saying it like Steve Martin in "Little Shop of Horrors" where he plays the sadistic nitrous-loving dentist. When I write certain things, and I am not the only one who does this, in emails or IMs, I say them in my head a certain way when I'm thinking, so I like to share instructions for whose voice to use when reading things to oneself. There's one I can think of that you just type and don't have to qualify, which is "D'oh!" Some of my other favorites...
1. (say it like Billy Crystal) Hellooooo...
2. (say it like Jack Black) Chello!
3. (say it like Napoleon Dynamite) Yesss.
4. (say it like Squiggy) Hello, lady.
and the all time classic (Joey Lawrence) Whoa!
Come to think of it, I've written these so many times to certain people that many times I just write the word and assume the other person is saying it correctly. Yes, these are the kinds of things that occupy my mind. Well I think I'll go follow the advice of my fortune cookie. Wait a minute... now I'm singing "Relax, don't do it" and I'm taking that to mean don't relax, do something productive. Honestly I'm torn.
It's another early nap day for Mr. Chin Chin Chin. So here I am, deciding what to do, eating a fortune cookie. Should I clean? Have lunch? I decided to consult the fortune, and it says -- no joke -- 'Relax and enjoy yourself'.
I started repeating the word 'relax' in my head, and I wound up saying it like Steve Martin in "Little Shop of Horrors" where he plays the sadistic nitrous-loving dentist. When I write certain things, and I am not the only one who does this, in emails or IMs, I say them in my head a certain way when I'm thinking, so I like to share instructions for whose voice to use when reading things to oneself. There's one I can think of that you just type and don't have to qualify, which is "D'oh!" Some of my other favorites...
1. (say it like Billy Crystal) Hellooooo...
2. (say it like Jack Black) Chello!
3. (say it like Napoleon Dynamite) Yesss.
4. (say it like Squiggy) Hello, lady.
and the all time classic (Joey Lawrence) Whoa!
Come to think of it, I've written these so many times to certain people that many times I just write the word and assume the other person is saying it correctly. Yes, these are the kinds of things that occupy my mind. Well I think I'll go follow the advice of my fortune cookie. Wait a minute... now I'm singing "Relax, don't do it" and I'm taking that to mean don't relax, do something productive. Honestly I'm torn.
Wednesday, March 5
You don't even know how much I did today
Sleeping has become difficult. Back pain, can't roll over, blah blah blah. In the morning Nico wakes up around 6:15 and lies in his crib chatting away. I wake up and listen to him and giggle, then Frank gets up and goes in to pick him up. He gets ready for work and I make breakfast. Nico waves bye bye when Daddy leaves the house. This is our little routine.
After breakfast this morning, Nico was cranky. I thought he was hungry, so when I went to make lunch around 10:30 I was surprised to see him rubbing his eyes. I brought him to his room and sang ABCs to him, and he fell asleep. Hmm. Nap time was two hours early? Oh well. I plopped him in the crib and set to work cleaning out the bathroom closet. Wait, first I made a ceasar salad and had a bowl of cereal. Then closet time. Working top to bottom with a huge trash bag at my side, I tossed out about 75% of what was in there. Anything travel size -- gone! Perfume I haven't worn in two years -- gone! Perfume I haven't worn in four years -- also gone! I was on such a roll that I also threw out most of what was under the bathroom sink. I threw everything in the dumpster, Nico woke up, and we had pasta with sauce for lunch.
After that I was so ready to get out of the house, so I bundled Nico up and took him out for a nice walk. He was so freakin' cute sitting in the stroller, and I could tell he was also happy to be outside. We were out for about a half hour, then we played at the bottom of the stairs for a while when we got back. Then we ate dinner and vacuumed the house, played blocks, and got ready for beddie byes. Once he was in bed, I unscrewed the handle on the sliding glass door and scrubbed it clean. Now you can see it's actually wooden, not crusty gray colored. Then I greased the tracks so the door opens like butta, washed the day's dishes, cleaned the table, dusted a few things and put away some laundry. Then I cleaned the toilet and admired my earlier closet work. All in all, a full day. I'm pretty darn satisfied with myself, and plan to reward me with some Thin Mints.
After breakfast this morning, Nico was cranky. I thought he was hungry, so when I went to make lunch around 10:30 I was surprised to see him rubbing his eyes. I brought him to his room and sang ABCs to him, and he fell asleep. Hmm. Nap time was two hours early? Oh well. I plopped him in the crib and set to work cleaning out the bathroom closet. Wait, first I made a ceasar salad and had a bowl of cereal. Then closet time. Working top to bottom with a huge trash bag at my side, I tossed out about 75% of what was in there. Anything travel size -- gone! Perfume I haven't worn in two years -- gone! Perfume I haven't worn in four years -- also gone! I was on such a roll that I also threw out most of what was under the bathroom sink. I threw everything in the dumpster, Nico woke up, and we had pasta with sauce for lunch.
After that I was so ready to get out of the house, so I bundled Nico up and took him out for a nice walk. He was so freakin' cute sitting in the stroller, and I could tell he was also happy to be outside. We were out for about a half hour, then we played at the bottom of the stairs for a while when we got back. Then we ate dinner and vacuumed the house, played blocks, and got ready for beddie byes. Once he was in bed, I unscrewed the handle on the sliding glass door and scrubbed it clean. Now you can see it's actually wooden, not crusty gray colored. Then I greased the tracks so the door opens like butta, washed the day's dishes, cleaned the table, dusted a few things and put away some laundry. Then I cleaned the toilet and admired my earlier closet work. All in all, a full day. I'm pretty darn satisfied with myself, and plan to reward me with some Thin Mints.
Tuesday, March 4
This is not a dinner invitation
Late this morning, I hit a new high (or possibly a new low) in cleaning mania. There is stuff everywhere on my kitchen counter. If I've inherited one thing from my mother, it's an affinity for covering a kitchen counter with stuff. It's the catch-all for bills, baby lotions, flashlights, toothpaste boxes, and chatch of every variety. Some people have a junk drawer. I like to spread it out a little. My junk needs room to breathe.
With so much to straighten up in this highly visible area, plus a mass of dirty dishes by the sink, my natural choice for today's cleaning frenzy was that spot underneath the oven. There's a drawer for heavy duty cookware, and the other day I pulled that out to get a Tupperware lid the baby shoved under there. I found this spot to be surprisingly filthy, and it has been haunting me ever since. The visible mess ceased to bother me. I can't focus on that until it's clean in the places nobody can see. So this morning I tackled it, and quite well. You could eat off the floor under my oven. Now, finally, tonight, I can clean off that nasty counter.
With so much to straighten up in this highly visible area, plus a mass of dirty dishes by the sink, my natural choice for today's cleaning frenzy was that spot underneath the oven. There's a drawer for heavy duty cookware, and the other day I pulled that out to get a Tupperware lid the baby shoved under there. I found this spot to be surprisingly filthy, and it has been haunting me ever since. The visible mess ceased to bother me. I can't focus on that until it's clean in the places nobody can see. So this morning I tackled it, and quite well. You could eat off the floor under my oven. Now, finally, tonight, I can clean off that nasty counter.
Sunday, March 2
Singapore rice noodle
When Frank and I first met, he used to take me out to eat almost every night. He lived in this awesome apartment at Broad and Race, in a white building on the corner above a pizza shop. Chinatown was just a couple of blocks away and it was summertime, so after work we'd stroll out for something delicious. Our first official nighttime date was at Penang. It's still one of our favorite places to go, only now Philly seems so far away and getting take-out from there is a hassle.
Luckily there's a new Penang on Route 38 and it's finally open. If you've never been and you like Asian cuisine, you must go! Technically it's Malaysian, and technically it's fabulous. They have a great menu, but we always get the same thing... roti cani, boneless curry chicken, chicken fried rice, and Singapore rice noodles. Sorry, when ordering it's just Singapore rice noodle. No s. I never say the s when I order. Like I just want one noodle. It's goofy but I can't help it. Sometimes we mix it up by adding a wonton soup and satay tofu, but the four core items stand at all times. The wonton soup is amazing. They serve it in a huge bowl with Chinese broccoli, then ladle it out into individual bowls for each person. And forget any other Singapore noodle you've ever had. These are ten times better. Unless you like your Singapore noodles with Szechuan or some not-really-curry type sauce, which I do not. I've ordered this dish at other places and was deeply insulted to find that all noodles are not created equal.
Anyhoo, today we ordered out and it was sooo good. Welcome to the neighborhood, Penang. We love you.
Luckily there's a new Penang on Route 38 and it's finally open. If you've never been and you like Asian cuisine, you must go! Technically it's Malaysian, and technically it's fabulous. They have a great menu, but we always get the same thing... roti cani, boneless curry chicken, chicken fried rice, and Singapore rice noodles. Sorry, when ordering it's just Singapore rice noodle. No s. I never say the s when I order. Like I just want one noodle. It's goofy but I can't help it. Sometimes we mix it up by adding a wonton soup and satay tofu, but the four core items stand at all times. The wonton soup is amazing. They serve it in a huge bowl with Chinese broccoli, then ladle it out into individual bowls for each person. And forget any other Singapore noodle you've ever had. These are ten times better. Unless you like your Singapore noodles with Szechuan or some not-really-curry type sauce, which I do not. I've ordered this dish at other places and was deeply insulted to find that all noodles are not created equal.
Anyhoo, today we ordered out and it was sooo good. Welcome to the neighborhood, Penang. We love you.
Saturday, March 1
Quote of the day
Tonight I went out to AC Moore. The store was closing and after I checked out, the store manager was standing by the front doors letting people out. As I was leaving he said with a smile, "Have a good night... both of you. Or three of you."
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