While I had planned to go to NY in August to eat falafel and talk smack with my old gang, I shifted plans to go on a little vacation with my beloved - a calm before the storm if you will.
We decided to go on this cheesy little cruise from San Diego to Catalina to Ensenada. No big deal - a nice getaway, just me and him, and 24 hour all-you-can-eat soft serve ice cream.
As I was about to book our little escapade, I noticed the disclaimer that that women must be under 24 weeks preggers to ride the big white boat.
WTF?
I mean, I guess it makes sense, but WTF?
And should you suggest that I could get away with hiding how far along I am, I'm so HUGE right now that while I was at the ATM yesterday, this lady asked me, "So you're due any minute now, huh?" If by any minute, she's counting in dog years, then perhaps. But in human years, not for another fifteen weeks, sister.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Monday, July 13, 2009
Untitled
The baby, that is.
Sort of. We call him Juan Pancho, just as we called Dally "Little Two" in utero. (Why Little Two? I AM LITTLE ONE. That's what John used to call me when he would ask my sister how much. As in, "How much for the little one?" And she would reply a pack of cigarettes and a couple of goats. Fine family, I know.)
Juan Pancho won't make it on the birth certificate lest my mom decide to never see, call or write to me. Ever.
So now we're getting desperate. I've got less than four months to come up with something. This is the shit that keeps me up at night.
I busted out the baby name book yesterday. I used to turn my nose up at such nonsense. Baby Name Book? Please. NOT MY CHILD. My child's name will have a MEANING. Something IMPORTANT TO US.
I also used to swear my home would never look like Romper Room.
Sort of. We call him Juan Pancho, just as we called Dally "Little Two" in utero. (Why Little Two? I AM LITTLE ONE. That's what John used to call me when he would ask my sister how much. As in, "How much for the little one?" And she would reply a pack of cigarettes and a couple of goats. Fine family, I know.)
Juan Pancho won't make it on the birth certificate lest my mom decide to never see, call or write to me. Ever.
So now we're getting desperate. I've got less than four months to come up with something. This is the shit that keeps me up at night.
I busted out the baby name book yesterday. I used to turn my nose up at such nonsense. Baby Name Book? Please. NOT MY CHILD. My child's name will have a MEANING. Something IMPORTANT TO US.
I also used to swear my home would never look like Romper Room.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
People SUCK
I'll be five months pregnant next week and maybe it's the hormones or that people are just morons but I'm quickly tiring of the "WOW! You're SO BIG! Are you SURE it's not twins?" remarks. Are people being funny or just jackasses? It doesn't help that this question is mostly coming from people that I normally find irritating.
So read on Assholes.
I can assure you there is only one baby, and the baby is growing at a normal rate, and so am I. How do I know this? Because I just had an ultrasound on Tuesday. There is one baby. And if you keep talking shit to his mama, he's going to punch your lights. Second-borns, as my dear auntie Marybel once told me, come out of the womb fighting. (Yes, it's a boy.)
So read on Assholes.
I can assure you there is only one baby, and the baby is growing at a normal rate, and so am I. How do I know this? Because I just had an ultrasound on Tuesday. There is one baby. And if you keep talking shit to his mama, he's going to punch your lights. Second-borns, as my dear auntie Marybel once told me, come out of the womb fighting. (Yes, it's a boy.)
Thursday, June 4, 2009
My Bloody Baby
OH MY GOD. Dally's been having bloody noses lately but they've been happening while he was sleeping so he would wake up with bloody crusty nostrils and stained bedding. But today as I was putting him down for his nap, I saw it in action and it was THE FREAKIEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN. He kept wiping his nose, smearing his face with blood.
I sort of panicked.
I wiped the blood from his face but it kept coming out. Then I yanked him out of his crib and threw him in the bath. He was having a blast in the tub for bath #2 today. Meanwhile his nose kept on bleeding. I would wipe, it would come back. Wipe, more blood. I then thought, "OK, he's not going to die. This isn't a reason to call 911. It's just a bloody nose."
Then I thought, "It would be really disturbing if I took a picture of him."
A minute later I thought, "I've GOT to stop the bleeding. He COULD bleed to death!" So I tried to distract him by looking up (which now I know you're NOT supposed to do). Then I had the brilliant idea to turn on the shower and that scared the living shit out of him. So I pulled him out of the tub and just laid him out on his changing table.
The bleeding stopped somewhere in the ten feet it took me to go from the bathroom to his room. I laid him out in PJs and now he's sleeping. And I have just finished researching toddlers and bloody noses. Turns out they're not all that uncommon and supposedly not serious. Still, I think a trip to the doctor is in order.
Christ, may you never have to see your baby look like Carrie (post pig blood).
I sort of panicked.
I wiped the blood from his face but it kept coming out. Then I yanked him out of his crib and threw him in the bath. He was having a blast in the tub for bath #2 today. Meanwhile his nose kept on bleeding. I would wipe, it would come back. Wipe, more blood. I then thought, "OK, he's not going to die. This isn't a reason to call 911. It's just a bloody nose."
Then I thought, "It would be really disturbing if I took a picture of him."
A minute later I thought, "I've GOT to stop the bleeding. He COULD bleed to death!" So I tried to distract him by looking up (which now I know you're NOT supposed to do). Then I had the brilliant idea to turn on the shower and that scared the living shit out of him. So I pulled him out of the tub and just laid him out on his changing table.
The bleeding stopped somewhere in the ten feet it took me to go from the bathroom to his room. I laid him out in PJs and now he's sleeping. And I have just finished researching toddlers and bloody noses. Turns out they're not all that uncommon and supposedly not serious. Still, I think a trip to the doctor is in order.
Christ, may you never have to see your baby look like Carrie (post pig blood).
Sunday, May 31, 2009
In My World...
Diaper Bags Are Stupid.
Now that we're in the family way again, I've started to look at all the unnecessary gadgets I won't be able to live without. One of the things I will not be getting is a new diaper bag. While I like the look of Dally's diaper bag, it is the most impractical piece of fabric ever. Maybe I'm lucky because my kid doesn't have monster shit explosions (knock on wood). But most of the time, all his junk can fit in my bag - and usually does anyway.
I should just buy myself a killer new purse.
Now that we're in the family way again, I've started to look at all the unnecessary gadgets I won't be able to live without. One of the things I will not be getting is a new diaper bag. While I like the look of Dally's diaper bag, it is the most impractical piece of fabric ever. Maybe I'm lucky because my kid doesn't have monster shit explosions (knock on wood). But most of the time, all his junk can fit in my bag - and usually does anyway.
I should just buy myself a killer new purse.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Monitoring Our Child
Ugh. The most annoying things happened a couple of days ago. Dally's video monitor went kaput.
It was faulty from the get-go. None of the buttons worked from the moment we took it out of the box, but it was a baby shower gift so as long as we were able to see and hear baby, whatever. Didn't matter that the volume was consistently at MAX. We learned to throw a towel over the speaker.
About six months ago, the volume went out completely. My cheapskate solution to this issue was to buy an audio monitor since it was $20 vs. a new video monitor ($100). The picture display was fine. It just had no audio, and sometimes, it's nice to just have picture and no audio - like when the little menace is fighting sleep at bedtime. We can see that he's fine, just screaming his head off because he wants to own the night.
The other day, when I went to plug in the monitor at night, it didn't power on. Turns out, the adapter wires broke off the connection jack. OH GREAT. We tried to MacGuyver it, using an old adapter connection, but then the thing started smoking. I think I done screwed it up even more. I should have just gone to Radio Shack. Anyway, now I'm trying to figure out what kind of monitor I should buy. It seems the monitors like ours - with the full TV monitor - are becoming obsolete. They're being replaced by the handheld ones, which I don't like because the display is too small. In my blindness, all I had to do was squint to see the little noodle at night. I'm afraid that won't do with the smaller video monitor. (Heaven forbid I actually place it on my nightstand, right next to my head. Talk about too close for comfort.)
But for now, it's a lonely existence without the omniscient presence of Dally in our room at night. We miss watching our son, especially when he starts talking to himself in the middle of the night. Even more so when he starts cracking up. You miss so much when you don't have surveillance.
I read this piece the other day about when you should stop using the baby monitor. Some people stopped using it when their kid turned one. I think that's insane. I'm thinking 24. Creepy?
It was faulty from the get-go. None of the buttons worked from the moment we took it out of the box, but it was a baby shower gift so as long as we were able to see and hear baby, whatever. Didn't matter that the volume was consistently at MAX. We learned to throw a towel over the speaker.
About six months ago, the volume went out completely. My cheapskate solution to this issue was to buy an audio monitor since it was $20 vs. a new video monitor ($100). The picture display was fine. It just had no audio, and sometimes, it's nice to just have picture and no audio - like when the little menace is fighting sleep at bedtime. We can see that he's fine, just screaming his head off because he wants to own the night.
The other day, when I went to plug in the monitor at night, it didn't power on. Turns out, the adapter wires broke off the connection jack. OH GREAT. We tried to MacGuyver it, using an old adapter connection, but then the thing started smoking. I think I done screwed it up even more. I should have just gone to Radio Shack. Anyway, now I'm trying to figure out what kind of monitor I should buy. It seems the monitors like ours - with the full TV monitor - are becoming obsolete. They're being replaced by the handheld ones, which I don't like because the display is too small. In my blindness, all I had to do was squint to see the little noodle at night. I'm afraid that won't do with the smaller video monitor. (Heaven forbid I actually place it on my nightstand, right next to my head. Talk about too close for comfort.)
But for now, it's a lonely existence without the omniscient presence of Dally in our room at night. We miss watching our son, especially when he starts talking to himself in the middle of the night. Even more so when he starts cracking up. You miss so much when you don't have surveillance.
I read this piece the other day about when you should stop using the baby monitor. Some people stopped using it when their kid turned one. I think that's insane. I'm thinking 24. Creepy?
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Finding Answers in Playboy
I find golden nuggets of parenting wisdom in all sorts of magazines - Parents, Wondertime, Cookie, and, today, Playboy.
Today while I was spending some quality time with my toilet, I shuffled through a drawer where I keep reading material and I ran across an old Playboy issue that I hadn't read yet. The interviewee was Dr. Drew Pinsky.
I've been loving Dr. Drew since I was in high school. I like that he has a firm stand against women having anal sex, has a superhuman ability to detect childhood trauma, and he has triplets that he would give up his first class airplane ticket to sit in coach with. When I first started listening to Dr. Drew preach the word of safe sex, the triplets were three. Now they're freakin fifteen - or in June 2008 they were. OY.
Anyway, in the Playboy interview, Dr. Drew touched on something that I'd never heard him weigh in on - he had in the past, I just hadn't caught it: What do you say to your child when he asks you if you have ever done drugs?
Dr. Drew says the appropriate answer is, "We don't talk about that." While you and me, as grown ups, might take that to mean something incriminating, to a child, Dr. Drew contends, it means something entirely different. What they might take it to mean, I don't know. But it beats the hell out of saying, "Yeah, I use to smoke tons of pot in high school."***
The truth, Dr. Drew says, is practically giving the kid license to go for it. Go get high.
I don't know about you but I'm ALL ON BOARD for that golden nugget of advice. Oh, by the way, this is a TOTALLY interesting interview that is worth seeking out. Dr. Drew has some really interesting things to say about Tom Cruise, Britney Spears, and, one that really got me thinking, Angelina Jolie.
***NOTE TO DALLY: That was a HYPOTHETICAL statement. Ask ANY of my friends in high school and they will tell you I was a superdork, not a druggie.
Today while I was spending some quality time with my toilet, I shuffled through a drawer where I keep reading material and I ran across an old Playboy issue that I hadn't read yet. The interviewee was Dr. Drew Pinsky.
I've been loving Dr. Drew since I was in high school. I like that he has a firm stand against women having anal sex, has a superhuman ability to detect childhood trauma, and he has triplets that he would give up his first class airplane ticket to sit in coach with. When I first started listening to Dr. Drew preach the word of safe sex, the triplets were three. Now they're freakin fifteen - or in June 2008 they were. OY.
Anyway, in the Playboy interview, Dr. Drew touched on something that I'd never heard him weigh in on - he had in the past, I just hadn't caught it: What do you say to your child when he asks you if you have ever done drugs?
Dr. Drew says the appropriate answer is, "We don't talk about that." While you and me, as grown ups, might take that to mean something incriminating, to a child, Dr. Drew contends, it means something entirely different. What they might take it to mean, I don't know. But it beats the hell out of saying, "Yeah, I use to smoke tons of pot in high school."***
The truth, Dr. Drew says, is practically giving the kid license to go for it. Go get high.
I don't know about you but I'm ALL ON BOARD for that golden nugget of advice. Oh, by the way, this is a TOTALLY interesting interview that is worth seeking out. Dr. Drew has some really interesting things to say about Tom Cruise, Britney Spears, and, one that really got me thinking, Angelina Jolie.
***NOTE TO DALLY: That was a HYPOTHETICAL statement. Ask ANY of my friends in high school and they will tell you I was a superdork, not a druggie.
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