What is it this time?

I’m beginning to dread daytime phone calls from kat’s lil sis, especially when she begins them with, “So here’s something else to add to the prayer list.” This time, she’s been diagnosed with low-lying placenta (which as she pointed out, could be advantageous if it helps keep the baby in her teeny, tiny cervix!)

This time, lil sis isn’t so worried– it means she’s going to get some extra ultrasounds and the docs are going to keep an eye on things, but expect everything to improve as time goes on.

Of course, I pointed out some of the bright sides of the situation and then asked, “Can I put this on the blog?” Lil sis said yes, but also wants me to point out that these are actually things that have been diagnosed by real doctors and not just her own neuroses (“ooh, my cervix feels small today… and the placenta is awfully low-lying”). And she wants to know if all (three) of our readers are sick of hearing about her girly bits (I for one could go for having just one phone conversation with her that doesn’t include the word “vaginal,” but that’s just me…)

In an effort to keep this from turning into a mommy blog, I will be dragging SJ out to the bars later this week and we will get hammered, hook up with random men and– if SJ’s lucky– wake up together in bed without pants on. Just for you, dear readers, just for you…

but it was totally worth the trip...

i won't be wearing strappy sandals any time soon, nor would i be considered attractive back in the 18th century -- as both of my ankles are now huge. (the right one from a torn ligament that never healed properly and the left one, hopefully only temporarily.)

The only appropriate time to say “You’re going to be huge!” is to an aspiring Broadway star

Oh, man. It begins. This is the email I got from kat’s lil sis yesterday:

What’s wrong with people? Don’t they know not to tell a pregnant woman, who is already self-conscious about her size, that she is already big and is going to be huge? One of my employees kept saying, “you’re going to be huge” today and then told me I’ve gotten bigger from the back as well.

That’s it…I’m staying home until I have this baby. :(

Who does that?!? Employee, you may not realize it, but you’re dealing with a girl who gave herself tension headaches in the third grade. Lil sis has always been “the skinny one” and works hard to maintain her physique. And she’s been told she can’t work out because of her teeny, tiny cervix problem. So you can imagine how she’s feeling these days.

Although lil sis can be a tad bit on the sensitive side sometimes, I don’t think anyone would blame her for decking (or firing) this loudmouth. I emailed back and said she should tell that person they’re huge and then walk away while they’re trying to figure that out. Or I guess she could burst into tears (that would show them!)

Any suggestions for good comebacks?

"he went from nipple to cup..."

i love the holidays. my favorite part is when i'm asked countless times when i'm going to have children. yesterday, for example, i was told that sometimes you need to put your career on hold in order to concentrate on more important things, like creating a family... (which made me visualize walking out of a meeting telling my boss the reason why..., which is funniest if you knew my very wall street broker-esque, very hard-nosed CEO boss)

but among the discussion yesterday, i managed to get j's mom to discuss his prolongued breast-feeding experience, including the tip that she tried putting hot sauce on her, um.. self, to drive him away from it. my response?

"so *that's* why he loves buffalo wings!"

she also went on to tell me about how he was well over a year old and often would try to pull her shirt up or down in order to get at the boobs. (my response? "he does that to me too!")

in fact, she said, she tried everything. but the only thing that worked was to pump into a cup, which means, he essentially "went from nipple to cup. no bottle!"

i couldn't help but think to myself: this explains *so* much.

Cause I’m religious like that…

Kat’s lil sis got some semi-bad news last week when she found out (***TOO MUCH INFORMATION ALERT***) her cervix is “on the small side of normal.” Apparently, according to Dr. Google, a small cervix carries an increased risk of second trimester miscarriage. (By the way, I should mention I have lil sis’ permission to post about this). (And I should mention I’m getting to the funny part really soon).

Anyway, at a loss to help in any other way, I told lil sis we would pray for her during grace at dinner that night. I didn’t say anything to the Pretend Husband, but I ended grace with “And please keep lil sis’ cervix from shrinking any further. Amen.” The PH said, “Amen,” blessed himself and then calmly said, “What’s that about?”

The next day, I emailed lil sis with the subject, “We prayed for your cervix!” and told her the story. She sent back a message that divine intervention must be working because she thought her cervix had stayed the same size. I sent back, “Don’t tell the PH, but tonight we’re praying for your vagina.”

I showed the PH the message (because I think I’m hysterically funny even if no one else does). That night, I ended grace with “And please bless lil sis’ pregnancy. Amen.” This time, the PH said, “Amen,” blessed himself and said, “I’m just glad you didn’t say anything about her vagina.”

when my sister was potty trained, she got a pony....

this is true. in fact, i still bring up the fact that she was clearly the favorite since she got a pony, TG got a goat and I got a lamb.

clearly, pony trumps goat and sheep.

however, it does come in handy to know this fact when little e does things like... fall in love with a baby goat.

"When Auntie SJ and your mommy were little, Grampa got mommy a pony for going on the big girl potty! And he got Auntie SJ a lamb..."

Airing my grievances

I think it's been mentioned that the Pretend Husband is an attorney (yeah, I know... but I still like him). Many attorneys have big egos, big chips in their shoulders and big problems when they don't get their way. I wouldn't say the PH is like that, but he will stand up for himself and his clients when he needs to. The man comes home with stories about getting screamed at, thrown out of offices and threatened.

Attorneys have this thing called "grievances." It's basically the complaint department of the law profession. I think there's a committee that hears grievances and I'm sure the committee must stay pretty busy because attorneys are forever threatening to grieve someone if they don't get their way.

This morning, the PH was telling me yet another story of yet another attorney who-- surprise, surprise-- threatened to grieve when he didn't get his way (his way, by the way, was illegal and unethical, but those are just details...) While the PH was telling me about the attorney, I began thinking of the things I'd like to grieve him for. Didn't do the dishes like you said you would... I'm going to grieve you! Still haven't put the bannister back up.... grievance! Your turn to take the dogs out and you're whining... oh, grievance committee!

While I'm at it, I'd like to grieve Casey for chewing on my good black shoes. And, Molly, you know you have a grievance coming your way for pooping in the house the other day. Also, Casey and Molly said they want to grieve the PH and I for serving the same thing to them for every single meal. Casey wants to file a grievance for the odor that wafts out of the bathroom when the PH is in there. And Molly is none too happy about having to spend every weekday locked up in the same rooms as Casey, but she hasn't decided which parent is responsible for that decision yet (that's OK, grieve them both!)

I told the PH not to be surprised if he arrives home tonight to find his own little grievance committee waiting for him. I said he'll know that's what's happening when he walks in tonight to find me and the dogs dressed in long black robes. Now, if I can just find some white powdered wigs in their sizes…

Lock up those picnic baskets!

I’m going to be an ant. An ant, people! I can imagine a life of invading people’s picnics, stealing food out of their baskets, avoiding being burned by magnifying glasses.

Oh wait, I’m going to be an aunt! As in, enjoy the cuteness of my sister’s baby and be able to give it back when it cries. And buy tons of cute outfits without having to wrangle the little one into them. And get my baby fix without having to commit to anything.

SJ wasn’t kidding when she said everyone’s pregnant. My cousin and SJ’s sister recently gave birth (those are two different people by the way… SJ and I aren’t related). A friend of mine gave birth last month. Two of our friends and another one of my cousins are due in the next few months. And I recently found out KAT’s lil sis and Mrs. Matt are both expecting in September!

We’ve been joking that there must have been something in the water at our wedding. In fact, when Mrs. Matt announced that she’s expecting, I called SJ and demanded, “What’d you drink at our wedding?”
“Um, wine.”
“Phew! OK, you’re not pregnant.” (which, not surprisingly, was not news to SJ)

It’s been kind of fun to get firsthand accounts from people about this whole pregnancy thing. I’m getting really good at baby shower gifts. And, at this rate, all these kids will be able to babysit for us by the time SJ and I start popping them out.

holy crap. everyone in the world is having babies.

... except for me, that is.

First off, a shout out to my newest nephew... Noah Foster. My sister T had her second baby a week ago yesterday and he's a healthy, bouncing baby boy. I got to hold him for the first time on Saturday. He's really cute and so perfect little newborn baby looking. Not too wrinkly, not monkee-like. Just like a little baby that just got born.

So Saturday I was visiting with all of my nephews and my sisters when my mom called to tell me that our friend's mom was looking for me to see if i could help her with our friend's baby shower the next day. I called her back from my sister's phone, and told her sure. I can help her set up and stuff.

How hard could that be?

***Let me just say to Joy, my dearest and oldest friend of 25+ years, if you're reading this, I love you to pieces, more than you'll ever know, so please stop reading. You can read this in five years. Or not at all. Go about your merry way. Go visit Damomma.com. Or go read SRG's blog. But read no further....****

I knew I was in trouble when I asked the mom what time she needed me to be at the club.

Her response was "Well, what time do you wake up?" For the next ten minutes, I tried very hard to get off the phone, ("I really have to go -- I'm at my sisters and...") My nephews, bless them, helped me by screaming in the background for their Auntie SJ.

So when I did get off the phone, my sisters' phone rang about two minutes later. It appears that the mom refused to believe that I didn't have a home phone and only use my cell phone. She asked my sister the number to my home phone. Anonymous tried to convince her that I really didn't have one, but I think she still believed I was keeping it from her.

I showed up on Sunday, at my appointed 9:30 time (the shower was to start at 12:30) only to discover that there was no one else there except for her and her husband. I offered to call and get help, but she told me that I couldn't, because she had already told people she didn't need anyone, and what would they think if there was someone else there?

My first thought was: "That you needed help..." But I held it in.

Now, I should mention that I had my share of shower prep with this mother before, as we worked together to plan my friend's bridal shower three years earlier. But the baby shower, she assured me, would be better. "Well, you picked the centerpieces out last time..." "That was *your* decision.." And my internal dialogue was something like: Really?! Because I recall I had to get express permission before doing anything. Which is odd, because I actually purchased them. And the favors. And the invites. And the balloons. And the helium tank. And put them all together. Until you decided that the centerpieces weren't good enough so you decided to purchase ivy plants to go in all of the precious little teapot planters I had found.

This from the same woman who, at her daughter's wedding, said to her friends at the reception when I was a mere 10 feet away: "....This is *my* day, after all..."

After the fifth comment that felt like an intentional jab, I couldn't hold my tongue any longer. I told her, in a very sweet voice, that the rainbow colored bears she had found really reminded me of the Grateful Dead bears. That seemed to shut her up for the next hour or so.

And after setting up the centerpieces and corresponding favors using the color wheel the mom supplied me with, and blowing up nearly 4 dozen balloons, I was a little ready for a nap. I took a half hour break to get some coffee and solace at my sister's house before returning, fully prepared to ooh and ahh over the beautiful baby stuff.

When I had just about finished with the decorations, I looked around to reserve a table for our friends... after all, the mom had told me "I would have saved a seat for you at the head table, but...."

The shower itself was beautiful and very elegant (it was the only country club baby shower I had ever attended -- and we live in Connecticut).

Thankfully, by this time, reinforcements had come. We spent the next five hours laughing over wedding and baby dramas in our lives and having a wonderful time.

Looking back at these stories -- crazy mothers of brides and grandmas to be, the crazy things people tell you (like KAT, you HAVE to wear a veil - how will they know you're the bride??) -- I can safely say that none of these "traumas" would ever change the way I feel about my friends.

I'm sure that they'd stand by me, blow up balloons till they had no skin on their finger, put up with whatever drama I may be faced with (" have no one to marry us!"), and maybe even throw me a kicking party (as they have so many times in the past...)

All in all, here's to friends, and helping your friends get through whatever they need to get through, however they need to do it.

He may as well give up now...

Lately, I have been a world-class bee-yotch. I admit it. And there's nothing I can really do to stop it. I think it's PMS. And, while I'm not proud of it, sometimes you just have to wallow in the bee-yotch-y-ness a bit, you know? (And sometimes you have to make up words like bee-yotch-y-ness).

The Pretend Husband can do NOTHING right these days. He commented that he doesn't like how I do the dishes and I didn't talk to him the entire time I washed and he dried. When he took the towel off the hook, the hook fell into the sink like it does every time he picks up a towel and never does when I pick up the towel, so of course it's the PH with the problem, not the way the hook is hung.

This morning, I had to get up a half-hour before the alarm went off to take the dogs out (the PH had to shave and shower and, you know, get to work to keep us in the lifestyle we enjoy). That led to a quiet morning and barely a goodbye to the PH. (I'm not even sure why, except I was very grumpy that I didn't get that extra 30 minutes of sleep and that I had to wake up to Casey whining).

I've already written the PH an email apologizing for my crankiness, but that's no guarantee it won't rear it's ugly head again tonight. I'm going to blame it on the fact that I gave up chocolate for Lent. I think the PH is praying for Easter to get here as fast as possible so he can have his wife back.

To quote a country song, "Guys do it all the time"

I have had a habit of checking out the hands of both men and women, looking for a wedding ring. (I think I developed the habit when I worked as a police reporter and frequently got hit on by married cops). But I've been told this is a "girl thing." I remember having this conversation with SJ's husband, J, and the Pretend Husband during a Setback game one night. They assured us that they had never looked at someone's hands to see if they were wearing a ring. And they were pretty adamant about the fact that they won't in the future. In fact, I asked the PH about this the other day and he again said he would never think to do it.

While our focus group of J and the PH has been good for getting the male perspective on a bunch of subjects, I don't think the results were so accurate this time around. My proof:

- Last year, I was talking to a guy I had met for the first time when he asked when I was getting married. I was a little confused how he would know that I was, but he cleared it up by saying, "That rock is hard to miss." Exhibit A of men who look for rings.

- Today, I was working on my laptop when a cop I knew from a previous job approached and said, "Hey, didn't you used to work at X Paper?" We chatted and then he said, "But you weren't married when you were working there." The dude had checked my hand behind the laptop screen. Exhibit B.

And now I don't feel so bad that I do it too.

The good ol' days...

SJ and I hit the road for a fun, girly shopping trip to the outlets that ended with the purchase of some very pretty dresses and maybe a few $4 bras. We spent the ride down catching up on tons of stuff (who am I kidding? we talked and talked and talked the entire day!). The topic du jour for some of the trip was husbands, relationships and in-law issues.

SJ's response: "Remember when we used to talk about sex and boys? I liked that better."

Me too, SJ, me too. (And when did we get so grown-up?!?)