The body in my front yard and other events in my life

I don't have enough for a full post right now, so you get snippets of what life in the FunnyGal household is like these days.

First, there's this guy....
This movie star of a son who continues to amaze me with his words (you try not smiling when he yells "Cah" like he's a lifelong Bostonite talking about the traffic or points to my coffee in the morning and calls it "ca-ca.") And he amazes me with his abilities and his kindness and the fact that he barely speaks and yet had two different people point out how funny he is today at story hour. Life is good with FunnyKid.

***

Christmas was perfect. That's all I really need to say (although have you ever known me to stop at one sentence? Yeah, me neither.) It involved grandparents so excited about watching the kiddos open their gifts that they got up early and other relatives who spent part of Christmas Day pushing a Cozy Coupe filled with cousins around the house and good food and laughter and really, what more could you ask for?

***

While I'm amazed at each of the skills FunnyKid has learned in his 16 months, I'm still surprised each time he picks up a new one. Last night, while I was making cookies, he came over and wanted to be part of the action. I put him on a stool and handed him a spoon and I'll be darned if the little guy didn't understand enough to scrape the sides of the bowl down with the spoon and not go near the mixer when it was running. He also knows where the cookies are stored and how to convince Mom he needs to eat one for breakfast, but that's another story...

***

I guess that's about it. Oh, the body in the yard? You want to hear that story? Yeah, I guess I would too. I'm still not clear on exactly what happened, but I think I've pieced together most of it. See, our house is along the route the local high school cross country team runs (I guess? Does cross country practice in January?) Yesterday, I walked out of the garage to take FunnyKid for a walk, looked up and saw a girl lying face down under a bush by the road. Startled, I stepped closer and saw... five more kids laying behind a rock wall in our yard. They didn't say anything to me (but I saw them move so my initial thought of a dead body in my yard was quickly erased) and I didn't say anything to them because it looked they were lying in wait and I didn't want to ruin their game. About a minute later, as I was getting FunnyKid in his stroller, the group of kids jumped up and started running. I didn't see it clearly, but I think someone had run by and they were surprising her? I heard one of the kids say, "Best hiding place ever" as they ran off, so perhaps it will become the norm for me to have a bunch of bodies scattered around my yard.

***

The other day, I received an email from someone I met for the second time and she complimented my personality. She said she hadn't realized from our first meeting how funny and sarcastic I am, but had enjoyed it during our second meeting. I read the email to the Pretend Husband, who proceeded to tell me I'm not funny! Like, at all. (I may have told him he's bad at his job as an illustration of how important my sense of humor is to me). He later said he was kidding, but it was too late. I had already filed for divorce by then. (Ok, I'm kidding. I'll keep the PH around-- but only if he starts laughing at my humor real quick).

Alcohol, hors d'ouevres and me pulling my boobs out in the middle of the party (or: how my husband finally learned to deal with me)

If there is any area where the Pretend Husband deserves a "Most Improved" Award, it's in the "What To Do When Your Wife Cries" category. Seriously, the man used to be terrible. If I started crying about something, he would try to pretend I wasn't. He would look anywhere but at me and try to carry on a conversation as though I wasn't sobbing loudly with tears running down my face.

I have spent *years* training the guy to A) not ignore the fact that I'm crying and B) do or say something that makes me feel better. It took many, many times of me telling him to just sit next to me and hold my hand or rub my back. He doesn't have to even say anything-- just be there.

Well, the PH was tested last week and I'm proud to report he has finally learned the lesson I began teaching when we were dating. Last week, I abruptly stopped breastfeeding FunnyKid. It had been coming for awhile, he was down to just one feeding a day and I knew he was only doing it as a comfort thing before bed and no longer needed it for nutritional purposes. I knew we were going to stop soon.

But I wasn't prepared for the night we were putting FunnyKid to bed and everything fell perfectly into place for us to try putting him to bed without that last feeding. And-- this is the part that especially ripped my heart out-- he rolled right over and fell asleep without protest.

The PH and I walked downstairs and I just stared at him. "Are you going to cry?" he asked. "I don't know," I replied... and then I burst into tears. And-- shocker of all shockers-- the PH said he understood and rubbed my back as I let it all out. "I know this is for the best. I'm ready and he's ready," I said, "but I didn't realize last night would be the last time I ever breastfed him. He's growing up so fast."

Then, the guy who used to try to chat about football while I cried actually offered to throw a party to celebrate the end of breastfeeding. "And in the middle of it, you can have your one last time," he proposed. I'm still not sure if he was serious or just trying to make me laugh, but it was the perfect response to the situation. Ok, maybe not perfect. Bringing home some "end of breastfeeding" jewelry the next day would have been perfect. But it was close enough for me.

I'm extra hilarious at 2:30 in the morning

A few nights ago, I found myself tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. Then, the Pretend Husband, who had way too much caffeine too late in the day, found himself with his eyes pinned open. So, like any loving couple with double insomnia, we began chatting.

I told the PH I had tried to fall asleep by running through potential baby names for our next child (this is not an announcement). After going through some of my ideas, we began thinking of names for future dogs (also not an announcement). After the usual Molly, Maggie, Max, Buster suggestions, we hit on another idea.

We thought it would be absolutely hilarious to give our next dog a name that is only usually given to people. Like Stanley. Or William. We lay in bed cracking ourselves up thinking about how people names would sound on a dog ("Jessica! Stop licking yourself!" "David! Drop that chipmunk and get in the house!") Then we wondered if the idea would seem as hilarious when we weren't exhausted.

The next day, we discovered that it is just hilarious as we had thought. I defy you to walk outside right now, yell "William, stop humping Jessica and get over here!" and not laugh. It's impossible.

If he wants to push the next kiddo out of his nether regions, I'm happy to listen to him complain. Until that happens, zip it.

FunnyKid is an Eater. With a capital E. We have yet to discover a food he won't eat (except for a three day period where he wouldn't eat-- of all things-- watermelon). And when he's in his high chair, in your lap or anywhere where there's food, he wants to eat and he wants to eat now.

Let me preface the next little story by saying the Pretend Husband is an awesome father. He has one evening a week alone with FunnyKid while I work, he rushes home at the end of a busy day to make sure he gets time with FunnyKid before bed and he's very hands-on with everything from playing to changing diapers.

However, if there is one thing the PH hates, it's being interrupted when he's eating. He will spoon veggies into FunnyKid's mouth before he sits down to eat so it doesn't interfere with his meal. So, if there's any additional cutting up of food or throwing Cheerios onto FunnyKid's tray, that has fallen to me.

I'm not sure the PH even realized how harried I was during meals as I tried to grab bites of my own meal in between cutting things into little chunks for FunnyKid and keeping him well-fed. Until a few weeks ago. FunnyKid and the PH had come to my soccer game, but the grass was too wet for them to sit and watch at first. So the PH loaded FunnyKid into the car and took him out to breakfast.

On the way home from the game, I was treated to a litany of complaints from the PH. "It was so hard to eat! He kept yelling when he ran out of food so I was constantly cutting stuff up for him. I had to choke down my food in, like, 30 seconds at the end."

I think he was looking for sympathy from me, but he was looking to the wrong person. "Really? That's what it's like to eat with FunnyKid? I wouldn't have realized that, being that I feed him three meals a day and all. Cry me a river, PH, I've been dealing with this for months."

At least he let me come back

The Pretend Husband called me one afternoon last week and said, "You know, you should go visit your sister and nephews. You both stay home with the kids and there's no reason you can't go in the middle of the week." I said he was right and thought that I should plan a trip to visit the cutest nephews in the world soon. But the PH was thinking even more immediately.

"I think you should go this week."

His reasoning had something to do with having a very busy week ahead of him at work and not wanting to feel pressured to get home to see FunnyKid and I, but he was so persistent, I started to get a little suspicious. When I told him I had spoken to kat's lil sis and would be leaving the next morning, the PH said, "Why don't you leave tonight? You can get in the car at FunnyKid's bedtime and get there around midnight."

If I had taken his advice, it would have meant leaving within two hours. Maybe more experienced moms can pull off packing for herself and her kiddo and being out the door in 120 minutes, but I need more time to prepare. I stood up to the pressure and kept the plan that didn't involve me driving five hours in the middle of the night with no notice.

So FunnyKid and I took off the next morning-- but not before I set up nannycams around the house, put a tracking device on the PH's car and paid the neighbor to keep an eye on things (with binoculars).

I asked for a toilet for Mother's Day-- because I'm just oh-so-sentimental and all

I asked my husband and FunnyKid for a toilet for Mother's Day. I mean, it's not that romantic a gift, but it's something we need and I would use it everyday. Definitely more practical than sentimental. And, although it's a silly gift and something I probably would have killed the Pretend Husband for buying me if I didn't ask for it, I would have been thrilled to come home to a brand new, comfort-height toilet that flushes on command and doesn't need me to jiggle the handle in a certain way or open up the top every three uses.

Luckily, the PH didn't listen to me and my practicality. Instead of a toilet, he and FunnyKid picked out a beautiful ring with FunnyKid's birthstone for my first Mother's Day. Which I don't need and I won't wear everyday, but I love it (and the meaning and thoughtfulness behind it) about a million times more than I would a toilet. This is one of those times I'm thankful that the PH didn't listen to me and splurged on something I don't need, but absolutely love.

And to prove that the PH has a practical side too, my card from him promises the installation of a clothesline to replace the drying rack I've been using to dry our laundry outside. A sentimental AND practical husband-- how did I get so lucky?

The difference between men and women...

When I got into my car this morning, I smelled poop. After checking both FunnyKid and I (and not finding anything), and having my dad not smell anything when he got into the car a short time later, I figured it wasn't anything to worry about. Until about 20 minutes later, when I adjusted the heat and my dad started gagging. He thought the smell was more like a dead animal than poop and we theorized something crawled into the engine and died in one of the heater vents.

In a bit of a panic, I called the Pretend Husband to tell him about what happened and told him I would take the car to our mechanic on my way home from the store. That's when my dad and the PH both began mocking me, saying I could end up paying the mechanic for three hours worth of work if he had to take the dashboard apart to get to the animal. Their suggestion? Buy a couple of air fresheners to mask the smell until it goes away.

My suggestion? Paying whatever it takes so I don't have to ride around with the smell of a dead mouse in my car. But, alas, the guys won and I will be purchasing every vanilla air freshener in the store the next time I go out.

Confusing the family tree

FunnyKid looks A LOT like his dad (the Pretend Husband) (who, just to confuse things further, is actually my real husband). So, anyway, FunnyKid looks like such a miniature version of the PH that I considered asking for a DNA test to make sure he was actually mine.

Which is why it was so strange when yesterday, in church, a woman asked the PH if he was the uncle and he said yes! I think some of the woman's confusion stemmed from the fact that kat's lil bro (i.e. FunnyKid's actual uncle) went to church with us and somehow ended up sitting between the PH and I. Where the PH's confusion came from is beyond me.

When I looked at him funny and said, "You're not the uncle, you're the dad," the woman replied, "Oh, *that's* why the baby looks so much like you!"

In the PH's defense, FunnyKid looks so much like him, he assumed the woman was joking about how they are related. But, still, I told him denying paternity of our son (especially in church, where everyone knows we are married!) is not funny.

It turns out *we* are the terrible neighbors

When the Pretend Husband went to empty the ashes out of our pellet stove yesterday, the tray was still too hot and burned a hole through the oven mitt he tried to use to carry it outside. I opened the door to find him bent down next to the tiny garden pond by our front steps, trying to break the layer of ice on top and dip the oven mitt into the water.

As he came inside, the PH threw the oven mitt onto a pizza box sitting on the front steps (I think he was going to hold it under the ash tray to make sure ashes didn't fall onto the floor as he walked?) and I warned him to make sure the oven mitt wasn't still burning because it could start a fire.

An hour later, the doorbell rang, I heard the PH yell, "Fire!" as he walked into the hallway and I immediately began filling a bowl with water. As the PH took over that job, I opened our front door to find our neighbor pouring his beer onto the charred remains of the oven mitt and pizza box.

Our neighbor, while working in his garage and trying to enjoy a beer, had noticed huge clouds of smoke drifting over from our property. From his house, it looked like the smoke was coming from the bedroom windows of our house and so he hustled over to investigate. As he was arriving on our doorstep, intending to find out if we were home, he came upon the actual fire that was creating all that smoke and, as I mentioned, wasted a perfectly good beer putting it out for us.

All I can say it, thank goodness our neighbor is the type of guy who investigates first and calls the fire department second. And you had better believe I made the PH tell me I was right about not leaving the oven mitt sitting on cardboard.

How long do I have to do this before I'm no longer a rookie?

In the three months FunnyKid has been with us, I've had my share of days when I have rocked this mothering gig. Conversely, I've had those days where things... didn't go quite so well. The Pretend Husband and I refer to "rookie mistakes" whenever we mess up with FunnyKid when we should have known better. Examples include me getting pooped on after ignoring the warning signs and the time I went outside with FunnyKid in my arms to go for a walk with SJ without bringing the car seat the kiddo needed to be in.

Luckily, the PH makes enough rookie mistakes that I feel like we're pretty even and I'm not the most terrible parent in the world. The other night, I had given him two diapers to take up to the kiddo's room-- one for that night and the other for the morning. After the PH had changed FunnyKid's diaper, played with him for a bit and dressed him in a sleepsack, he gave him to me for a feeding.

A few minutes later, I noticed two diapers on the changing table and asked the PH, "Did you put a diaper on FunnyKid?" The PH's eyes grew wide as he said he didn't think so. Turns out FunnyKid was going commando in his sleepsack. Which would have been disastrous in ways I don't need to describe if it had gone unnoticed. And would not have been discovered if I hadn't happened to give the PH only two diapers and then notice those same two. Disaster averted (and a little satisfaction for Mama that she wasn't the one who made the mistake... this time)

Keeping it in perspective...

The Pretend Husband has picked up a lot of the slack since I was put on bed rest. The other day he not only remembered his mom's birthday was coming up, but he went out and bought her a beautiful bouquet of flowers to mark the occasion (he's good about stuff like that-- but usually only after I remind him of upcoming birthdays and come up with a gift idea).

When he got home that day, he gave me a bouquet of daisies he had bought at the same time he got his mom's flowers. When SJ and J came over the next day, I started teasing the PH, saying, "Look at the pretty daisies the PH got me. Of course, his mom got a huge bouquet that included orchids..."

The PH's response? "It's her birthday. You're just pregnant."

(Just for that, I had better be getting the biggest bouquet he can carry when I give birth to his child!)

Everything you (n)ever wanted to know about the PH and I...

I found this while cleaning out my work computer before going on maternity leave. It's a questionnaire I filled out about the PH and I, and since it will give you a break from my all-pregnancy, all-the-time posts (and I think it's kind of funny), I thought I'd post it. Everything you ever wanted to know about the Pretend Husband and I, but I just know you were too shy to ask...

How long have you been together? It feels like forever… oh wait, it’s only been four years or so (honey, if you’re reading this, I meant four blissful years…)

How long did you know each other before you started dating?
It feels like forever, but that’s because it was. I estimate about three years of card games at SJ and J’s house, dinners at SJ and J’s house and complaints about how we were never going to find a spouse at SJ and J’s dining room table. You can see how right we were about that…

Who asked whom out?
Neither. It was fate… or rather, a large bottle of vodka, that finally brought us together. That’s the romantic tale I’ll be telling the grandkids someday.

How old are each of you?
I’m a year older than the PH, which makes me a cougar. We’re both in our early 30s.

Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?
All the moving and renovating we’ve done since we began living together. We actually made a deal to not buy or sell a house in 2010 and shook on it.

Are you from the same home town?
Nope. Two towns apart… and we met in the middle at SJ and J’s house.

Who is smarter?
He is, fo’ sho. Which is why he is in charge of our finances.

Who is the most sensitive?
Um, that would be whomever cries more often, so definitely the PH. Just kidding— I’m definitely the crier in the relationship.

Who has the craziest exes?
It’s not even a contest… it’s me (*whispers shamefully*)

Who has the worst temper?
I hope he doesn’t yell at me for this, but it’s him

Who does the cooking?
Definitely not me. I’m in charge of baking in this relationship and he does the rest. We know what we’re good at, so why mess with it?

Who is the neat-freak?
Um, I’m not and he puts up with me. He’s neat—I wouldn’t call him a neat-freak, but he’s definitely neat freakier than me.

Who is more stubborn?
I still say he is, but he insists I am. I’ll let you know how that argument turns out.

Who hogs the bed?
I’ll admit I do. He often has to ask me to inch away from him before he falls off the edge of the bed.

Who wakes up earlier?
Him, and in a much better mood than me. One of the sweetest things he does is, on the weekends, he will get up early with the dogs to take them out and feed them so I can sleep in. And, to top it off, he even sometimes brings me coffee in bed. Yup, he’s a keeper.

How long did it take to get serious?
Let’s see… we moved in together about two months after we started dating, so I’ll say… 10 minutes. I think we both knew from the starting that we weren’t just fooling around. I mean, can you imagine how awkward it would have been at SJ’s and J’s if we had broken up?

Who does the laundry?
This one is kind of a toss-up. We both do it when it needs to be done. But I get to do it with no supervision and the PH gets a long list of requirements when he heads down to the basement (no bras in the dryer, please hang my sweater on the drying rack, etc.) He’s getting better at it.

Who's better with the computer?
I’m learning that it’s me (the PH doesn’t know the shortcuts for cutting and pasting in Word… who doesn’t know those?!?) I’m not super proficient or anything, but I’m definitely the computer expert in this relationship.

Who drives when you are together?
Definitely me. He thinks it’s because he spends so much time driving for work that he doesn’t want to do it in his free time. I KNOW it’s because I’m the better driver.

Working on the Wife of the Year Award

The Pretend Husband called me to ask me whether he could get together with some friends in another state the weekend after FunnyKid is due to arrive. My response was to say we would need to wait and see when the kiddo arrives and what kind of baby they are. I mean, if the baby is three weeks old and sleeps for up to three hours between feedings, then I would have no problem with the PH leaving for a day and a half. But if he or she is five days old and wakes up every hour, then no, the PH is not leaving me because I'm going to need the support.

The PH was shocked at my response because he thought he would get an immediate no, followed by "Are you nuts?!?" So he is happy to wait and see where we stand when that weekend rolls around.

Of course, I couldn't just let it go at that (as proud as I am with my status as the "coolest wife ever" right now). I called him a couple of hours later and said, "You know that weekend you want to go away? Well, SJ wants to have a girls' weekend in Boston the following weekend. You know, one last getaway before her baby is born. Is it OK if I go?"

Let's just say the PH is not even in the running for Husband of the Year. He started to panic and said things like, "What about feeding the baby? Can you pump that early? Is SJ really going to be in the mood to walk around Boston all day? It's different from me going away. The baby doesn't rely on my body for its nutritional needs." I made him sweat for awhile ("Well, it's only fair if you get to go") before revealing that I had made the whole thing up.

I like to keep the guy on his toes.

(Make sure you check back tomorrow-- Wednesday-- for a special post. I won't give away the subject, but it's something I write about only once a year...)

Who needs these fancy baby products when we have a whole refrigerator full of options?

Butt paste, nipple butter-- there are some interesting products for mother and baby out there. I was the guest of honor at two wonderful baby showers this weekend, and was also the recipient of a box of nipple butter at the first shower, which was a couples event that had both the Pretend Husband and I opening gifts.

After opening the nipple butter (it's meant to bring relief for nursing mothers), I began joking around about what other products might be available: nipple mayonnaise? Ooh, the PH likes mustard... how about nipple mustard? But he LOVES hot sauce. How about that?

While we continued opening gifts, the PH's guy friends started rustling around in the next room. Shortly after, we were handed the last gift-- a strange looking black bag that wasn't exactly in the baby shower style.

I peeked inside and immediately handed it to the PH, saying, "It's for you." He then pulled out a bottle of hot sauce with a label his friends created that said, "Red Hot Nipple Sauce."

I'm all for making my husband happy, but I think the line gets drawn somewhere around the idea of putting a spicy condiment on certain sensitive areas of my body. (Oh great, with all this talk about hot sauce, now I'm craving buffalo wings!)

Shhh, let's let him think he has a chance with the ladies...

I wasn't going to post anything today because the funny has been lacking around here, but then I found a conversation the Pretend Husband and I had this weekend that I had transcribed onto my phone for a future blog posting.

I got up early on Saturday morning to go to a tag sale with SJ (I know, we are wild and crazy, aren't we?!?) I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt and had not showered. The PH and SJ's husband both decided at the last minute to join us and the PH came down the stairs all showered and decked out in khakis and a polo shirt.

"Hon, you look way better than I do for a tag sale," I said.

"You know how many ladies will be there who don't work on Saturday nights?" the PH replied (It should be noted that I work at a radio station on Saturday nights).

"Why? Are you looking to replace your baby mama?" I asked.

"I'm going to work the crowd," he said. "You working Saturday nights is severely affecting my social life."

(Does it even need to be noted that the PH came home from the CHURCH TAG SALE without any phone numbers? Or that he spent his Saturday night like he often does-- cuddling on the couch with the dogs watching sports? Yeah, that's why I don't worry when he gets dressed up and goes out to "work the crowd.")

Where does he come up with these things?!?

The Pretend Husband is on some kind of roll lately, busting out all over the place with one liners and things that make me laugh (or roll my eyes and laugh). The other night, we were talking about labor and I told him I was going to give him a list of encouraging things to say to me while I'm writhing around in pain.

"I don't need a list," the PH said. "I'm just going to lean over, gaze into your eyes and whisper, 'Remember, you're the one who wanted a baby.'"

Husbands say the darndest things...

Laying in bed last night, I was reading a book about pregnancy. I got to a part about how quickly my uterus is growing and exclaimed to the Pretend Husband, "Holy cow, this says I will grow half an inch every week for the rest of my pregnancy! That's crazy!"

The PH, not really paying attention to exactly what I was saying, responded with, "You're going to get taller?!?"

Uh, yeah, PH. That makes sense. Especially seeing as how I have 13 weeks left to go. So, you can expect me to be topping out around 6 feet, 4 inches by the time the kid comes. And I'll be ready for the WNBA if we ever have a second child.

The PH is one of the most intelligent people I know and yet, he seriously thought pregnancy would make me taller?!? It's not like we don't have a whole bunch of friends who have been through pregnancy. Don't you think he would have noticed if all the women had ended up at over six feet tall, towering over their husbands? I'm questioning whether the PH should ever be left alone with our child.

A man with a plan...

If there is one thing the Pretend Husband and I have learned since we've owned dogs together, it's that they are total chick magnets (and dude magnets, for that matter). Whether we take them out to the pet store or a park, it's a sure thing that somebody is going to stop to talk to them and pet them, and usually to talk to us, too. The PH and I have often commented that we would not have each been single for so long if we had thought to get a dog.

And the PH has learned that babies are something of a chick magnet, too (not surprisingly, you don't see too many guys hitting on women holding a baby, though...) Which is how he came up with a grand plan for his "daddy night" when I'm working at the radio station.

Saturday nights, the PH will be taking the baby out to "Target or the park to pick up women." As I was laughing about his ingenuity, he said, "You know what? Girls like dogs, too. I'm going to take the baby and Casey with me."

Women will be powerless against the cuteness!

Scenes from Mother's Day

* I had a bet with a coworker that the Pretend Husband would not mark Mother's Day in any way, thinking I'm not yet a mother (and I kind of agree with that thinking). But a bunch of people told the PH to wish me a happy Mother's Day and he got nervous. He came home and said, "I don't have to do anything for Mother's Day, do I?" I replied, "You use your best judgment." He knows the code, so of course he had to do something to mark the day.

* I had breakfast in bed delivered to me. And by "breakfast," I am referring to a day-old doughnut and a bottle of water because the PH couldn't find the decaf coffee. But I'm not complaining-- it was very "him."

* The PH was soooo proud of the card he picked out for me, which wished the mother-to-be a happy Mother's Day. He was even more proud that, standing in a group of 30 guys facing a rack of only 20 cards left, he found the perfect one and grabbed it before anyone else (ah, that competitive spirit). He was so proud of it, he even read it out loud to me after I had read it to myself. It was sweet to see. Then I opened the mail from the day before and discovered kat's lil sis had sent the same card. The PH called her up and gave her all kinds of grief about how, of all the cards in the store, she had to choose the same one he did.

* I decided I really wanted Mexican food yesterday and only a certain chain restaurant would do. As we set off for the only one in the state, the PH and I discussed how crowded we thought the restaurant would be-- he was sure there would be a wait and I thought most people were going to take Mom out to somewhere nicer. So we bet on it, wagering-- uh-- something married couples sometimes wager. I won and quickly sent off a text message to kat's lil sis announcing my victory: "We got right in and had our choice of tables. Don't call us around 3-- I'll be collecting my prize!"

* We decided to finish up the day by preparing for the Funny Kid. We touched up the paint in the nursery and then made plans to go out and pick up the crib we chose. After running through the store-- the PH told me he was proud of me for keeping the trip short-- we decided we would go home, have dinner together and assemble the crib before going to bed. That was before we found out the crib wasn't in stock. Because of a complicated thing involving a discount only if we bought a bunch of stuff in the same day, our night instead included us driving 40 minutes to another store-- grabbing fast food on the way-- and rushing home to feed our very hungry dogs before trying to get some work done and falling into bed at midnight. Ah well, if that doesn't prepare me for the kiddo, I'm not sure what will.

(Feel free to debate whether I deserved to celebrate Mother's Day. I'm kind of on the fence because I haven't even done the hard work yet. But still, I'm not complaining about a day of taking it easy and getting pampered by the PH!)

Well, I hope they're very happy together...

I have mentioned before how-- despite my best intentions-- being married to the Pretend Husband is like being married to my father. And it seems that the more the two begin to resemble one another (in character rather than appearance), the more they prefer to spend time with their pal.

My dad mentioned he just bought a bunch of meat on sale and wanted to know when he should come over for a barbecue on our deck. I mentioned the PH is working late tonight, but said my dad could still come over and have dinner with me.

"No," Dad said. "It's more fun when the PH is there." (he actually used the PH's name this time, but sometimes does call him "The PH")

Uh, thanks, Dad. Finding out your father prefers your husband's company to yours is kind of like discovering you're not actually the favorite kid (not that I ever had that experience, but I'm sure my brother and sister felt this way when it happened to them...)

I'm really in trouble if I find out the PH feels the same way, preferring to spend time with my dad rather than me.