Sure, and maybe we can get my high school English teacher in there to hold my other leg...

Yesterday, the Pretend Husband came home and told me his mother is insistent that she be in the delivery room when the baby is born. I think I stopped breathing until he explained that, after the Pretend Mother-in-Law kept talking about it, he questioned her until she clarified that by "delivery room," she actually meant "hospital waiting room." I mean, I can't guarantee that she won't be sitting in there for a good 10 or 12 hours if she insists on going to the hospital when we do, but I will take that option over having extra people in the actual delivery room staring at my hoo-hah anyday.

Baby Bits, Volume 1, Chapter 1

To keep up with this blog becoming *all baby, all the time!* I figured I'd better start with some of the stories that happened over the last couple of months, but I wasn't able to reveal until now.

* First of all, in case anyone is curious, I am almost 15 weeks pregnant. So still pretty early, but late enough to be out of that terrible, horrible first trimester. Everybody tries to gloss over it, but man, there were things like feeling nauseous if I didn't have food in my stomach! having to get up to pee once each night! and needing more sleep than usual! (Why yes, I actually had an extremely easy first trimester. Go ahead and hate me, starting... now.)

* The PH and I have decided not to find out the sex of the baby. We like the idea of being surprised. I also like the idea of driving my in-laws crazy (the Pretend Father-in-Law said, "You're not going to find out?!? But I need to know. Can you ask the doctor to email me?")

* I'm at the point where I don't look pregnant, I just look fat. When I told my coworkers I was pregnant earlier this week, I said, "OK, who suspected?" because I feel like the weight gain is obvious. None of them did. But still, there's a little roundness to the belly that wasn't there before. I've been wearing maternity pants (best.invention.ever!) for a couple of weeks now, but I called the PH yesterday and said, "My maternity pants aren't fitting very well. They're really uncomfortable today." His response? "You're growing out of maternity clothes?!?" I hung up on him.

This one is worth reading to the end...

A few weeks ago, the Pretend Husband and I had my dad and his fiancee and the PH's parents (the Pretend In-laws) sit down for a discussion. I began with, "As the dogs' grandparents, we have something to discuss with you. You know how Molly and Casey have been asking for a brother or sister? Well, we have narrowed it down to three options and we want you guys to help us decide."

Immediately, the groaning started up. "A third dog?!? You guys are crazy!"

Quickly, I showed them a photo of a black dog and said, "This is the first option."

The comments continued, "I'm not taking care of three dogs when you go away. This is ridiculous!"

I showed a photo of a white dog and said, "This is the second option."

I was a little scared for my life as we got hit from all sides, "I can't believe you would do this! Three dogs is too much!"

So I quickly put down the third photo, saying, "This is the third option."

(It was a unanimous decision to go with option three.)

Kind of like a holiday newsletter, but with a lot less bragging and a little more laughter

I'm still getting back into the swing of things at work and haven't been able to come up with one holiday story that summed up the whole experience, so you get some tidbits from the entire celebration. Think of it like a huge platter of Christmas cookies and you can pick and choose between all the good ones...

* Speaking of Christmas cookies, I baked my butt off in the week before Christmas. I was just in the mood to do it. Plus, I got SJ to agree she could concentrate on cooking and would take half of the cookies I made, so that gave me even more incentive. After all our holiday parties, filled with platters of peanut butter balls, sugar cookies, corn flake wreaths, molasses cookies, Hershey kiss peanut butter cookies and Galaxy Cookies, we headed over to SJ's house for Boxing Day festivities. I had two thoughts: "Thank goodness someone else is hosting" and "I'm so ready for some different cookies!" Then I walked into SJ's dining room to find a platter of... because I had done SJ's baking... peanut butter balls, sugar cookies, corn flake wreaths, molasses cookies, Hershey kiss peanut butter cookies and Galaxy Cookies.

* After spending Christmas Eve Day cleaning our house and getting it set up to have 11 people at Christmas dinner, we ended up with 12. I quietly set another place for the guest we had invited but kat's lil bro didn't tell me was coming because I didn't want her to feel unwelcome or uncomfortable. But lil bro let the cat out of the bag by loudly telling her, "They didn't know you were coming!" Despite my best efforts, Christmas dinner was a little uncomfortable for everyone.

* At the end of Christmas Day, after a full day of eating, drinking, opening presents, talking and cleaning, the Pretend Sister-in-Law and I took the dogs for a walk. We got home and I thought, "I can't wait to go to bed." I thought it was almost 9 p.m. Yeah, it was only 6:30. I managed to stay up for a couple more hours... but just barely.

* I got a Snuggie for Christmas (you know, that fleece blanket/robe). Except it's a knock-off Snuggie that doesn't actually close in the back. So it's basically a blanket with two arms sewed onto it. And it feels like a hospital gown because I'm constantly trying to keep it closed in back.

* New slogan in the FunnyGal Kat household: It's not Christmas until one of the dogs is wearing antlers.

I was wearing slippers and I'm not pregnant, but I had the "toiling over a hot stove" part downpat

I am a lot of things, but I am not a cook. I've gotten better over the years (the Pretend Husband at least comes home to some chicken nuggets in the oven every once in awhile), but it's not my "thing."

Which is why it was huge that I made the PH not one, not two, but three meals (and three desserts) for his birthday last week. He put a moratorium on gifts for his birthday (that I am praying will be lifted by mine...) so it was the only way I could think of to make his birthday stand out.

I started the night before by getting home at 11 p.m. after dinner out with the Pretend In-Laws (and perhaps a spontaneous game of Setback with SJ and j) and immediately starting to bake potatoes. Which led to my getting up an hour early the next morning to finish breakfast, which was basically twice baked potatoes with bacon and a fried egg in the middle. They were good (but maybe a bit undercooked, which may have led to the PH's Birthday Morning O' Fun In The Bathroom, but it's the thought that counts, right?)

Then the PH went off to work with a bagged lunch of two angus roast beef sandwiches (the deli counter guy gave me the special angus roast beef at the price of the regular stuff... oh yeah, I've still got it!), his favorite Doritos and a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup.

I spent the next eighty jillion hours cooking so when the PH arrived home from work (or, more accurately, about two hours after he arrived home from work...) he sat down to a dinner of turkey meatloaf and garlic mashed potatoes. Which was followed by peanut butter pie, two kinds of cupcakes and a chocolate and vanilla checkerboard cake.

Of course, he's been getting nothing but chicken nuggets and canned soup from me since, but at least he has the memory of the day KAT cooked her butt off to sustain him until his next birthday.

Let me know if anyone finds an all-chocolate diet that makes you lose weight...

The Pretend Husband, the Pretend In-laws and I on Saturday hit up one the many country fairs that will be going on in our neck of the woods. The first thing we did when we got onto the fairgrounds was walk up and down the line of food booths and decide what to have for lunch. Out of all the offerings-- which included fried Oreos, chili dogs, baked potatoes, cotton candy, ice cream, sausages, grinders and those huge turkey legs-- you know what I chose? A salad.

I went to a fair and got a salad (and it wasn't even deep-fried!) I thought I was kidding when I told the PH on the way to the fair that I intended to have a salad for lunch. I thought I was joking because I've never been to a fair where anything even resembling a vegetable was available unless it was battered and fried. But I found the one booth at the fair that was offering healthy food and-- this is the most surprising part-- bought something.

I've been trying to eat better lately in an attempt to slim down. I've been exercising a bit more and am using an app on my iPhone that allows a person to track how many calories they consume each day. In order to lose a pound and a half a week, I'm allowed 1,500 calories a day. I'm here to tell you that 1,500 calories a day is not a lot. It's a granola bar and coffee for breakfast, two small snacks, a Lean Pocket for lunch, a turkey dog and tater tots for dinner and Jell-o or an ice cream sandwich for dessert. Actually, writing that out makes it seem like a lot, but I'm hungry just about all the time, so it doesn't seem that way during the day.

But it seems to be working. My pants feel just a bit looser (let's be real, 2 or 3 pounds isn't exactly noticeable-- even when I tell the PH to squint and look really hard to see if he spots any difference). And I feel healthier and better about my eating habits. But still, let me repeat this: I went to a fair and ate salad. It doesn't get any more hard core than that.

Too bad, because I was planning to surprise each of you with something you would have loved...

Saturday, the Pretend Husband, the Pretend Father-in-Law and I spent three hours painting the biggest room in my brother's new house tan. Sunday, we spent three hours painting the biggest room in my brother's new house blue-gray.

Kat's lil bro has been incredibly busy lately (like working multiple 24-hour shifts at his job, which basically means working days at a time) and needs to get his house into good enough shape to move into it when his rental lease ends. So the family has been pitching in and doing work, buying some of the items he needs and giving lil bro more advice than he will ever use.

Last week, lil bro asked me to go to the tile store and pick out the tile for his bathroom remodel. And I was all set to do it, but then I chickened out and made him come with me during the few hours he had off one afternoon. Because, as much experience as I have with remodeling and as well as I know my brother, I was not ready for the responsibility of picking out hundreds of dollars worth of (non-returnable) tile for a bathroom he would have to live with.

And it's a good thing he went with me because, out of the two colors of tile we both liked, he chose the one I wouldn't have (I would have chosen the other one only because it was half as expensive, but I agree he got the better of the two colors).

But, even with that experience, I agreed to pick out paint for the family room. I had a long conversation with lil bro about his preferences ("I don't care as long as it's neutral") and got warnings from the PH ("You like dark colors. Don't go too dark. He likes the color we had in our old living room"). And when I got to Home Depot, I chose a shade of brown that was sort of dark, but still much lighter than anything I would have picked out for my house. And, when they were unable to mix that color in a five-gallon quantity, I agreed to go even lighter, ending up with a very light tan...

... that had a peach tinge to it when we got it on the wall. But we wanted to surprise lil bro with a completed room so we painted the whole room anyway (and it's a big room-- it used to be a two-car garage, to give you an idea of how much wall space we had to cover). And when lil bro saw it on Sunday morning, he hated it. He thought it looked peachy. And better yet, I showed him the color I intended to get him (the one the PH, my dad and the Pretend Father-in-Law all said was way too dark and good thing I didn't get it), he said he would have preferred it.

So, off to Home Depot the lil bro and I went, returning not with a darker shade of brown, but an entirely different color altogether. And we spent yesterday afternoon repainting the very room we spent the day before painting (so it's kind of like we did nothing at all on Saturday).

And that's why I will not be trying to surprise anyone by doing something nice for them. Nor will I be shopping for lil bro's house by myself (although I'm happy to to help paint with whatever colors he chooses). But I'm not making decisions or buying anything non-returnable. Pretty much, it's the last time I try to do anything nice for anyone ever again (or at least until my back stops aching from a weekend of work).

Do you think she'll share? It will make work so much easier to take.

The Pretend Mother-in-Law had surgery last week and so the Pretend Husband and I headed over to the hospital to visit her that night. While the PMIL is normally a pretty quiet and sort of nervous person, she seemed to come out of her shell that night and was chatting about all sorts of topics. It was a great conversation that made the 90 minutes we were with her fly by.

On the way home, I remarked to the PH how upbeat and outgoing his mom seemed and mused that maybe it was because I'm not used to spending time with her without her husband around. But the PH thought differently: "It's probably the drugs."

Lo and behold, when I called her today to see how she's feeling, she was giggly and cheerful, and when I said, "You sound like you're doing well," she replied, "It's the Percocet!" and start giggling like crazy. I guess the PH knew what he was talking about after all.

Stupidest argument ever...

So, I don't normally talk about my dreams-- vivid as they all are-- because I usually consider posts about dreams to be boring. You ran from a murderer?!? Then you had a shoot-out with the police?!? Oh my gosh! Oh, it was just a dream? Yeah, not half as interesting as it would be if it were true.

But I'm breaking my own rule because of how this dream turned into a serious discussion for the Pretend Husband and I. Last night, I dreamt the Pretend Sister-in-Law set me up on a blind date. I was at a restaurant, talking to my date, getting to know him, when he asked if I was going on the [My Last Name] Family Vacation. I said, of course and somehow the PH's name came up.

"I live with him," I said (just realizing it myself).

"I bet someday you're going to marry him!" said my blind date.

"Oh, I'm already married to him!" I said (again, not realizing it until that moment). Then I tried to come up with reasons why I was on a blind date while already married, but they all sounded lame even to me ("I was looking to make a new friend.")

The date got mad and left, calling me names under his breath.

So I told the PH about my dream after I woke up this morning and still tried to come out of it looking good.

"I can't believe your sister would set me up on a blind date when I'm already married to you!" I said indignantly.

The PH replied, "Uh, how about the fact that you're married and you went?"

"But I didn't know I was married until I said it," I replied, sounding lame even to my own ears.

And that, my friends, is how the PH and FunnyGal KAT came to agree that neither one of us is allowed to go on blind dates while we are married. The end.

It distracted them from continuously hinting about us providing them grandchildren...

The Pretend Husband and I joined forces this weekend to host the family holiday dinner. We cleaned, we moved tables around, we shopped for food, we cleaned some more, we set tables, we cooked... it was a beautiful thing (and fun and tiring, too). The one thing we hadn't counted on-- and which will be done better-- is the timing of the meal and the draw of the kitchen.

I was in charge of the mashed potatoes and had planned to have them made before anyone arrived, but the PH convinced me it would be better to time the cooking of the potatoes so I mashed them just before dinner and they stayed hot. We also thought the island in the kitchen would be the perfect place to lay out the appetizers. Which is how I ended up with an audience as I finished making the mashed potatoes-- an uncle even commented that it was like a cooking show as everyone stood around and watched me with the potatoes and the PH carve up the turkey and the ham.

And it wasn't so bad until I stirred the pan of corn very vigorously, sending some flying across the counter and onto the floor. The "audience" all started talking at once, ribbing me for my lack of culinary skill. And the PH started yelling at me because-- and I'm not even sure how he made this leap in logic-- he thought I had turned the stove up too high and the corn had started popping. Next year: potatoes made in advance and appetizers laid out in any room other than the kitchen.

Another amusing thing was the Pretend In-laws and Pretend Aunt and Uncles playing Wii after dinner for more than three hours. They went off into the other room to play that while the PH, his sister and I sat and talked without having to be interrupted by the "kids" and their video games. Normally, we would have cut them off before that but they were playing so nicely together and it gave us adults a chance to socialize without them bugging us every five minutes to ask about dessert.

Dad, when I wrote "sex," it was code for "praying"

My dad called last night and said, "Tell the Pretend Husband I made some great soup from the turkey carcass he gave me."

I said, "Wait. Did you just call him the Pretend Husband? Do you read my blog?"

Dad said, "Yes, I read it all the time."

And then I died. The End.

Holy cow, my dad reads this blog?!? Even this post? And this? Oh no! Not this one, I hope! (I'm kind of hoping my dad doesn't know about clicking on links!)

Somehow, despite my begging my family and friends to read our blog, and pretty much plugging it every chance I get (I sent out an email telling people I was engaged, but linked to the blog if they wanted to read the whole story), I kind of figured no one had taken me up on the offer. Then, slowly, I have started getting comments that freak me out at first (how does my friend from college/neighbor/aunt know about that?!?) until they explain they have been reading but not commenting (you sneaky buggers, you!)

But my dad?!? I had no idea! I asked him, "Do you, um, feel like you know more about me than you ever wanted to know?" and he said, "Yes, and about [Kat's lil sis] too." (Ha, ha, Kat's lil sis! Now do you regret writing about your cervix?)

So, knowing that my dad reads this blog, I will now be writing about nothing but my church attendance, volunteering at soup kitchens, saving kittens from fires and that time I meant to wear black slacks, but got all the way to work before discovering-- ha ha!-- that I had put on my navy blue ones.

OK, I'm kidding. I will get over this shortly and be back to my usual raucous self. And really, SJ should be the one who is embarrassed. At least I never discussed nipples with my mother-in-law!

As if I didn't feel old enough already...

The Pretend Husband woke up Saturday with a pain in his foot. Although he had been drinking with a friend the night before, he couldn't remember falling or kicking anything. The pain continued through the weekend with the PH rebuffing my attempts to get him to see a doctor. At one point, as he winced in pain, I asked him if it was worse than labor pains, but he said he couldn't determine that.

The pain got worse over the next three days until he couldn't stand it any longer and got an appointment with the doctor this morning. And the diagnosis? He has gout.

GOUT! As in, the disease usually only seen in old people or movies about life in the 1800s. I didn't even realize you could get gout anymore. I thought it had gone the way of the mumps or those Victorian-era vapors or something.

But he has it... and to save you a trip to WebMD, I'll tell you that it's a build-up of acid in the joints that causes extreme pain. And the kicker? (pun totally intended) It's actually described on the Internet as just as bad, if not worse than, labor pains (which the PH has mentioned so much I threatened to punch him in the head the next time I have to hear it...)

And the other thing? The pain is made worse by excessive alcohol intake and large amounts of protein. So the steak and beer the PH consumed on Sunday to take his mind off the pain may not have been such a good idea after all.

I would never actually say this to his face, but the PH was right (for once)

Among the projects I've taken on at both our "practice house" and the current one is wiring and hanging the light fixtures. Not to brag or anything, but I actually put up the chandelier at our first house (although, if I'm being perfectly honest, it didn't work quite right until Dad came for a visit).

So putting up the light in the front hall didn't seem like such a big deal. It was a pain that I couldn't get to it until about 7:30 at night, which meant I had to clutch a flashlight under my chin while I wired it, but I persevered. For two hours... after which, it still didn't work.

The complication was because the light in question is controlled by three light switches and I wasn't the one who took the previous fixture down so it wasn't a matter of wiring it the same way. So, despite my best guess at which of the 26 wires went where (OK, perhaps it was only six wires, but still...), the switch at the top of the stairs was, at one point, controlling the lights outside the house. And the dimmer in the hall? Was dimming the lights outside the front door. Yeah, I'm not sure how that happened either.

After a lot of frustration, we decided to abandon the project and try again the next night. At which time we began trying different combinations of wires, hoping to stumble on the right one. It wasn't completely random-- I tried finding a diagram on the Internet to follow, but couldn't find our exact situation (look at us! putting our lives in the hands of the Internet-- what trust!) While I tried to reason out the situation (well, those wires were twisted together and they look like they might be these wires in this diagram...), the PH just started twisting different wires together. And, on his second try, the light worked (and, even more importantly, the switches controlling it did not affect our outside lights).

So, for the rest of the night, I had to listen to the PH talk about what a genius he is and how he found the solution in two tries after I had spent hours trying to make the light work. Would it be terrible if I hope he gets a little shock the next time he tries to show off his electrical skills?

Keeping the Pretend Husband on his toes...

We were originally supposed to fly home from visiting the cutest nephew ever in Florida on Saturday, but since the Pretend Husband's beloved Red Sox kept the series alive by scoring an extra run Friday night (or tackling the quarterback or getting called for icing or making some free throws or something else sports-related...) the boys from Beantown were going to be in-- you guessed it-- Florida Saturday night. And not that close to where we were, but when the PH threw out an "Can we stay an extra day so the Pretend Bro-in-law and I can go to the game tomorrow night?" I thought, "Why the heck not?" and said, "Why the heck not?"

And the PH, apparently ready with a bunch of reasons to persuade me to say yes, didn't know how to respond. But you know what? I think it was a good strategy on my part because the PH spent the rest of the day wondering what he did right to make me agree to the plan. That, and when I came home with some new clothes and a cute pair of shoes, he started to give me a hard time until I said, "This is my Red Sox ticket." I think he's still trying to think of a comeback for that one.

I have a little crush on the Pope.

okay. not the real pope. because that would be wrong.

but i mean the pope from the Connecticut Renaissance Faire. i spent some time chatting with the pretend pope when i was hiding from the various random men that tend to ogle you when you wear outfits like the one i was wearing. (totally my fault i realize, but you cannot authentically sing sea shanties in jeans and graphic tees.)

that dude (the pope, i mean) is living the dream. i mean, really. he's an entertainer who makes a living out of entertaining. i find it incredibly admirable. i wish i had a sustainable talent that would allow me to do that. but alas. i don't, ergo, i have a day job.

but today my day job let me do something rather fun. namely: go talk to little kids about the value of newspapers. today is national newspaper week, so in honor of that, i went to talk to a classroom of fifth graders all about their newspapers.

andy, you'll be happy to know they still read them.

i was a little nervous that i'd walk in with a pile of newspapers and the children would stare blankly at me like i was holding some obscure thing from the past -- like perhaps that spoon that was invented in the 1790s that was designed to shoot medicine to the back of your throat to circumvent the horrid taste as this was before the discovery of high fructose corn syrup?

you know. something like that.

but no. they totally got it. but how alarmed was i that the children didn't seem at all impressed that the first online newspaper "recently" debuted in 1994? likely because they, in fact, were not born until 1998. 1994 was 14 freakin' years ago. that's a freshmen in high school.

when i was a freshmen in high school, the extent of our technology was message boards on prodigy. (anyone? can i get a holla back for message boards?) i can't imagine having a high school relationship in the days of instant messenger.

there is *no way* i would have sustained a relationship longer than an hour.

Now I've seen everything...

I was at the mall tonight with the Pretend Husband and the pretend sister-in-law when she and I noticed someone wearing a T-shirt with this on the front:

It's probably not an uncommon T-shirt, especially in the area we were in. Except, oh yeah, the person wearing it was a 10-year-old boy. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised as he went up to a group of 17 or 18-year-old boys and, as the pretend sister-in-law said, "greeted them like they were his homies."

And that, my friends, is why I never go to the mall unless I happen to have a gift card for a restaurant in said mall that needs to be spent before we move out of the area. The end.

The good, the bad and the lazy

I've been working from home quite a bit lately (although, to be fair, I should differentiate between working from home and "working" from home, if you know what I mean). I've actually gotten quite a bit done and found I really enjoy the home office from time to time. But, as always, there are some downsides to it. Such as...

*Stopping at my coworkers' cubicles to chat on my way to the bathroom is not a possibility. I've tried chatting up the dogs, Molly and Casey, but they rarely laugh at my jokes (such a blow to the ego, let me tell you!)

*So many distractions, which I'm sure I would have if I were working at the Capitol ("Oh hello, Governor. Please, have a seat while I finish this Sudoku puzzle.") But still, the book I'm reading is staring at me from across the room, the laundry needs to be folded and the dogs are begging to be taken for a walk when I'm at home.

*Again with the lack of coworkers. I have many, many funny thoughts that run through my head throughout the day and it's just not the same when I have to stop what I'm doing and call my pretend boss, Ted***, to tell him. I'm trying to convince him it wouldn't be at all weird for him to work out of my home with me.
***That's right, I haven't even told you about my pretend boss yet. I know, I know. It's weird that I have the Pretend Husband and the Pretend In-Laws and now the Pretend Boss. I'm not crazy and these people are very real. Ted is the pretend boss because for the first two weeks I had the job, I thought he was my boss-- he sure asked me a lot of questions about what my plans were for the day! Turns out he's just a curious coworker and doesn't actually have any power over me... and wasn't the one who made the decision to lay me off, so I still like him.

And the upside of the work-from-home situation? Well, every-other-day posting on this blog by yours truly is certainly is a plus (perhaps I should let you be the judge of that...) And I am very productive with my work, getting it done much faster since I don't have the aforementioned coworkers to distract me. Oh, and I'm getting very, very good at Sudoku (you think I should include that on my resume?) I will end this here so I can go complete the Jdlfgfjsd Report for work (which, don't tell Ted, but that's code for "watch People's Court")