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.

My blogging return: Letters for my best friend

Dear KAT,

Thank you for holding up the ol' blogfort for the past several...months... while I've been away. It's not that I don't love our bloggy world so immensely - because I totally do - but I am a lazy schmuck. 

But NOW things are different. NOW you're knocked up and I have to get off of my lazy non-blogging butt and make up for being so lazy while you can rest while you gestate.

Sure, I could be a jerky BFF and blog about the martini parties I went to, or the wine-tasting affairs I've been at -- but frankly, I'd be lying AND a jerk, so that's no good.

I could tell you things like: you're going to be an AMAZING mom, you look beautiful pregnant and I can't wait to see the large-headed little baby that pops out in a few months. Motherhood totally suits you.

In fact, I'll stick with those things, because they are all TRUE.

It's been an awesome experience being an aunt, as you know, so I can only imagine what it's going to be like to be a mom. I'm honestly a bit relieved you're going through this first. You can let me know how that works for you.

But really, don't you think you went a little overboard on ways to get new blog material?

With love, chocolate and kleenex,
SJ

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.)

If heaven has Super Soakers, my mom must be the water fight champion by now...

I have tried so hard to find the funny in everyday life recently. Not just so I would have something to post (although I'm always on the lookout for stories that translate well onto the blog), but because it's always nice to think about the last time you really laughed. This week hasn't been filled with a lot of laughter (at least, laughter that will translate well). Not because of any catastrophic event, but because of too many hours spent at work and not enough time with the people who tend to make me laugh.

So I'm reaching back into the ol' memory bank for today's tale about my mom. My mom passed away more than five years ago, but definitely still hangs around in the stories my family tells, in some of my facial expressions and, if the corner of my eye is to be believed, in the house we live in (although perhaps that's a story for another time...)

One of my favorite stories about my mom is one I told at her memorial service because it sums up her and her parenting style so well. My mom loved water guns. Loved them. And had tons of them. We didn't give her gift certificates for pedicures or flowers for Mother's Day-- we gave her Super Soakers.

And having enough water guns around the house for everyone naturally led to some epic battles. We would turn on the hoses at the back and front of the house, divide up the weaponry, give everyone a chance to fill up their gun and then race around the yard trying to soak, but not be soaked. And in the midst of these armed kids would be my mom, giving it just as good as she got (to this day, I'm not sure there's anything more satisfying than soaking an adult and not getting in trouble...)

For one battle-- one that my mom sat out in order to work in the yard-- things got a little out of hand. People were soaked but then feelings were hurt and someone ran inside in a huff. And that's when someone (my brother and sister say it was me, but I'll never admit it) dragged the hose into the house to threaten them. And that certain someone may have actually turned the hose on in the house and soaked the front hallway from floor to ceiling. That someone may then have been afraid their short life was about to end.

That's when my mom walked into the house, stopped short when she saw the water dripping down the walls, looked at her sorry-looking kids... and then, rather than handing out the punishment we knew we deserved, she grabbed the closest water gun and chased us out of the house with her squirting us from behind. And that was the day I escaped death (and discovered just how awesome my mom was in the process).

The embarrassing part is that she also has way more friends on Facebook than I do...

The Pretend Husband and I were laying in bed chatting yesterday morning as the dogs slept curled between us. At some point, Molly groggily lifted her head to look at us. And we both burst out laughing because that poor peekapoo had the worst bed head. Combined with the nasty look she was giving us, we surmised Molly had a pretty rough night. Speaking in the voice we created for her, Molly confessed to sneaking out of the house after we went to bed and attending a rave. She also admitted that she "gothed" herself up (she had black lips and nails) for her night out on the town. Then she told us both to "shut the eff up" because her head was killing her.

The PH and I laughed about it and traded jokes, finding ourselves very, very funny. That is, until I thought about the fact I had worked until 11 p.m. the night before and then gone straight to bed when I got home (very similar to most nights for me these days), and realized my dog's social life is more exciting than mine.