Thursday, July 2, 2009

Oh, so THAT'S how it works....

I forced Big V to watch an episode of MTV's "16 and Pregnant" because, as I explained, "eventually she gives birth and you need to see it." Quietly he took in the doofus boyfriend who failed to say anything even remotely intellegent, the swoony girlfriend who truly believed they were soul mates, and the can't-quite-deal-with-this mother, who spent the episode cussing out her son and yelling such things as "if you would've just kept it in your pants and not knocked up some girl you wouldn't BE in this situation" in front of the girlfriend. (yes, Awkward!)

About midway through the episode, during a 38 second clip showing the girl pushing, face contorted, knees yanked up to her ears, out pops this blicky-covered baby with a head the size of a cantelope. Knowing that I've got a beefy fetus that continues to expand in leaps and bounds I turn to V and frantically announce "Did you see that? Did you SEE how big that head was? There's no WAY a nine pound baby is pushing it's way out of my loins! You do it. I don't want to do it. It's your sperm's fault anyway!" (Which quickly turned into a 'well, if your egg hadn't been hanging around looking to hook up with the first sperm that passed its way -' 'are you calling my egg a hussy?' discussion...)

After V pointed out that clearly a 9-pound birth weight would be the first great stat for any reputable linebacker, he attempted to further soothe the Ripping Cervix Horror conjured in my mind by telling me - and I quote - "besides, babies just slip right out because they're so floppy. You won't feel a thing."

I stared at him for a good three minutes (he exhibited signs of uncomfortableness around twelve seconds, so the stare was quite effective) afterwhich I calmly announced that I would be in charge of Sex Ed when it came to our children and that from this moment forward he is not to claim to know how anything works when it comes to reproduction and to send all inquiries directly to me.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Sometimes Less is Better Than More

The doctor took a long time listening to the baby's heartbeat at the last doctor's visit. A very long time. What was odd was that it wasn't one of those "don't panic but oh my god she can't find the heartbeat" kind of moments. It was more of a "Wow! There it is - nice and strong!" and yet there she was, instrument in hand, swirling and moving it over my exposed abdomen to listen to what? More heartbeats? Different ones? Faster... Slower... first on the left side... now on the right...

Big V and I exchanged looks... mine of panic... his of excited anticipation... and for what seemed like hours (but was probably more like two minutes) we waited silently as the noise of horses galloping took over the exam room.

Finally the Doc straightened up, smiled, and announced, "Nope. Only one in there!" (V was heartbroken; I relieved.)

My little Cletus the Fetus is such an acrobat that s/he wouldn't sit still and confused the doctor with its little shenanigans. What was briefly thought of as possibly two little fetuses was actually one little wise guy playing tricks, running a game of "catch me if you can!"

It is an active little fetus. Active to the point I asked if there was any correlation between in-womb activity and ADD. (She assured me there wasn't - after she laughed - but I don't believe her.)

Monday, June 29, 2009

I'm just sayin'....

Gentlemen: If you smell like an overflowing ashtray that's been forgotten for the past week, you smell wrong. Women will not want to get close to you and cuddle... at least not the ones you're daydreaming about.

I have a secret...

Secretly I wish I was put on bed rest so I could spend my day with my computer, internet connection, and television remote control.


oh, snap! Thought I sent that to postsecret.com

The Difference Between the Two

I know, I know... you're skin is probably crawling in withdrawal! It's been quite awhile since my last post, but that's what happens when one suffers from a full social life. What can I say, it's a curse!

The Bean was at sleepaway camp this past week. Watching her pack was like watching Private Benjamin prepare for a week in the woods: new gold flip-flops with little heels on them, twelve different shades of lip gloss, hair dryer, curling iron, straightener... I asked if she remembered her swim suit and towel and was met with the scowel of a lifetime: "We don't swim, mom. Our hair will get ruined." Since I am Mom and therefore all-knowing and right all of the time, she ended up packing her suit. "So," I started, chest puffed out in righteousness. "Did you wear the suit?" "Yes, mom, okay? I did wear the suit - but only to stick my feet in the pool. I wasn't going to mess up my hair. Do you even realize how long it takes me to do my hair?" (Well, that was a week well spent with full access to a pool.)

Her daily schedule, as she described it, sounded something like this:

6:00 am - Wake Up. (Wait. You actually woke up? You never woke up earlier than 7:00 for school - and we had to leave by 7:15!) She explained it was more difficult to do your hair in a cabin than in a fully functional bathroom.

7:00 am - Breakfast

8:00 am - Back to the cabin to clean it... and to further expand on hair & make-up.

12:00 - Lunch

1:00 pm - Free Time... she usually went into another cabin of friends where they did each other's hair and make-up.

5:00 pm - Dinner Time

6:00 pm - Shower Time.... and then pick out what they're going to wear the next day and experiment with how they should do their hair.

10:00 pm - Lights Out


I guess I don't feel like I really missed anything by not going to camp when I was young....

***

Much to my amazement, Dotter also went to sleepaway camp! I dropped her off Thursday morning and picked her up Saturday morning, worrying constantly every second in between. What if she was scared? What if she got hurt? What if she panicked and no one knew how to help her? What if the other kids were mean and picked on her? What if her counselor shouldn't be around kids? What if she missed me? What if they went swimming and she was teased because she's still scared of the water? What if she almost drowns and then never goes near water again?

I need not have worried. I brought my cousin with to pick Dotter up, and the second we were spied Dotter went running up to my cousin, leapt into her arms and announced "I WANT TO GO TO CAMP AGAIN!"

Dotter's recollection of camp is a lot more detailed than Bean's. She remembered all the activities they did (holding snakes, picking wild berries, going down water slides - with a life jacket), all the food they ate (hot dogs cooked over a big camp fire, bacon for breakfast), all the songs they sang (with all the appropriate arm movements) and everything every young camper said for the entire duration of their stay...

Her excitement was contagious and I can't wait for her to go again next year!