Friday Fun

Yesterday was an interesting day. I woke up painfully having spent a large part of the night tossing and turning. When I did sleep I dreamt about buying the baby a crib, (a decision which is stressing me out to no end)that was heavy on my mind because my friend Allison sent me a book called Baby Bargains which she recommended to help me narrow down the impossibly huge amount of options. Apparently, reading the book immediately before going to sleep was a bad idea for my sub-conscious.

So I was running late to begin with, but I still made it out of the house at a decent time and then was blessed with green lights all the way to the freeway. However, as soon as I got on the freeway my luck turned. When I pushed down on the accelerator to merge onto the freeway my car started to make some very odd, chugging sort of a sounds. A moment later the Engine Malfunction light came on and started blinking.

I didn't know exactly what to do so I got off at the next exit and pulled into the first parking lot, a burger king. I looked up the light in the manual, stopped and restarted the engine a couple times and even looked under the hood to see if there was anything obviously wrong. Eventually I called the dealership service department who suggested I bring it in right away, but they could probably fix it that day. Then they gave me the number for roadside assistance so that my warranty would cover the tow. Somewhere around that time I started to sort of overload. I am choosing to blame the hormones, but I began to have a very difficult time not crying. I called my teacher friend from work to get the number for school so I could tell them I wasn't going to make it in, and then I called my husband so that I could cry it out.

For the record, I love him, but Matt was less than helpful. He didn't seem to understand why I was so upset even though I assured him I didn't either, and I think he was quietly laughing at me for acting so ridiculous. Of course he couldn't do anything (even though surprisingly for once he was actually in town when something bad happened) so after a few moments of hysterics I calmed myself down and got off the phone with him.

The tow truck came about an hour later and once I got to the dealership they offered me a rental car (like always) but I expressed that I was in just last month and had already missed my first 2 of 5 classes for the day and would likely miss another by the time I got a car and drove all the way to Vista, so if they wouldn't mind too terribly could they fix the problem today while I wait. I also sort of rubbed my baby belly while I talked, as a subtle way of reminding the room full of men that if I didn't get my way there was likely to be a very pregnant, very frustrated and very annoyed, very hormonal woman getting hysterical in their office. The lovely young gentlemen who were assisting me got on their walkie talkies and promised my car would be fixed within a couple of hours.

And, amazingly it was.

I was home by about 1:00, which was, um, nice. I'd missed an entire day of work and I was out the 50 dollar deductible, but at least my car was no longer sounding like a 30 thousand dollar lawn mower.

So then I tried to have a nap but my sleep was fitful yet again. I have decided that baby and I have progressed from prenatal narcolepsy to prenatal insomnia. I blame this on my husband (of course) because last week he was laughing hysterically the pictures in one of our maternity books about nightmares (the photo showed the husband hiding at the foot of the bed from his wife) and insomnia (where the photo showed the hubby sleeping peacefully while the wife sat awake with these ENORMOUS eyeballs.)

Around 5:00 Matt was home and it was time to get ready for the Supply Corps Birthday Ball. We normally attend 2 or 3 of the Navy Formals a year, but have been lacking lately because of the deployment. Anyway, here are some photos of the evening, which turned out remarkably well all things considered.

So here we are, trying very hard to look our best. Matt's uniform is enormous on him since he lost so much weight this summer while on deployment. For my part, I LOVE my dress. I spent an entire Saturday at the mall a few weeks ago looking for the perfect dress that would make me look un-pregnant and still hot. As a result I ended up purchasing a dress which easily cost twice what I would normally pay, but in the end I thought it was worth it since it is pretty FABULOUS.



I don't think I really accomplished my goal of looking un-pregnant since random people were asking me about the baby all evening. They also said I looked very nice though, which was good to hear since I couldn't help feeling like an enormous red jelly bean in fabulous shoes.

Well, actually, the shoes didn't last long. My feet started to swell within about 5 minutes and immediately after taking the previous picture (roughly one and a half hours into the evening) the shoes had to come off as I was afraid I might loose a toe. Ouch.



So the evening went on. Everybody but me drank massive amounts of wine and laughed at ridiculous navy sea stories while I waddled back and forth to the restroom every 15 minutes or so.



I think a good time was had by all. I know that I did, even being preggers and Matt passed out in the car on the drive home. I woke him up when we got home and as we were going into the house our neighbors across the street (also a navy couple) came out to say goodnight as their friend was leaving. They saw Matt and started teasing him for his fancy uniform and my husband responded by doing a little "sexy" dance for them in the driveway. It was spectacular.

Anyway, here is our formal photo. The man first insisted on the normal "couple holding hands" pose, which I can honestly say I have at least a dozen pictures of so I suggested we do a baby belly photo. I think it turned out very cute...



Happy Birthday Navy Pork Chops!

Ridiculously Sleepy

Yesterday was an exhausting day. This meant that when I landed on the couch around 3:45 with a plate containing the last of the chocolate chip cookies I was less than careful about getting crumbs on me since I really had no intention of ever getting up again.

But then Matt got home from work strangely early. It was still daylight and everything. This meant that he was overly motivated to take the doggie for a walk despite the fact that his wife had already resigned herself to spending the rest of her life napping on the couch. His motivation won out and he dragged me out after our furry little monster.

As a reward (or possibly to give me a reason to stop complaining) for accompanying him and Brutus on the walk he decided to take me out to dinner, and since I felt like eating salad he decided Olive Garden would be a great option.

So we go there and get our table and were studying our menus. At some point the waitress brought us water and straws. Matt, being the very mature 5 year old that he is, promptly pulled the end of the straw wrapper off then proceeded to blow the remaining wrapper off the straw and nail me in the nose with it.

I was less than thrilled.

Naturally I attempted to retaliate. Unfortunately in my groggy state I missed him completely and my straw wrapper flew all the way across the room coming within inches of nailing a very old man on the side of his head. Luckily the man was deeply involved with his soup and didn't seem to notice, even when I was laughing hysterically about it for several minutes after.

Matt started considering making a break for the car and leaving me to my hysterics alone.

Eventually I calmed myself and put my head down in my hands to control the giggles. I was then shocked to feel a rather large chunk of something stuck in my hair. Pulling it out, I found a sizable morsel of one of those aforementioned chocolate chip cookies I'd had earlier for my afternoon snack. That's right, stuck in my hair.

Ew.

The hysterical laughter, this time fueled by my own embarrassment and Matt's sheer horror and disgust returned. The waitress avoided our table for a good 20 minutes.

All this to say that when I say I am EXHAUSTED at the end of a work day I am not kidding nor exaggerating. Obviously, since I didn't even notice the large piece of food I was wearing fashionably in my hair for the better part of the evening.

Awesome.

"Christmas" in February

Yesterday was like a little like Christmas at our house. And by that I mean that I've been counting down the days til Feb 12 for over a month now and I was bursting with excitement by the time the day arrived.

Why?

Yesterday was the big, official ultrasound. The one where they can tell you your baby's gender. Also, the one where they are most likely to notice if there are any major birth defects, like, say, a mysterious set of horns or a tail or something.

I was SO excited I couldn't sit STILL!!!!

It did not help either that my afternoon classes were cancelled due to a field trip and I found myself having to kill a little over 3 hours in the middle of my afternoon before the appointment.

Anyway, somehow I managed not to die of a massive anxiety attack or anything and made it to the appointment with Matt at my side. He was up to his usual antics. He was bouncing around on his chair and leaning in close to look at the monitor asking a zillion questions of the ultrasound technician. Then when she was done taking the pictures she needed she turned the monitor so that I could finally see and also we could find out the sex, he flopped down next to me on the bed propping his chin up on his knuckles and leaning on his elbows like a 5 year old watching Sesame Street and just cracking me up. He really is going to be the cutest Daddy ever.

As soon as she got the gender identifying image up and I looked at the screen I knew what it was. I'd done some "research" on the Internet, looking at 19 week ultrasound pictures so I'd know what to expect and what I'd be seeing either way. So, once she explained the image to Matt, a task which was made more difficult by the baby who moved one of "its" legs completely out of the picture immediately, we were happy to know what kind of little person will be entering our lives this summer.

The bad news for all of you, is we have decided to keep it a secret until the birth. We have a lot of probably silly reasons for keeping it to ourselves, and I'm sorry if you don't understand... but, we're not telling. We can sleep easier knowing for now, and everyone else can enjoy the surprise when the day finally arrives. And, before anyone asks me... YES, I am completely okay with having a gender neutral nursery and baby clothes if that is what it will take to keep the secret. I'm not into the stereotypes of Pink and Blue anyway... we LIKE the colors yellow and green, so we're NOT telling.

OK, well, I'm not telling. If you can get a hold of my husband it might be another story...

Anyway, we got four new ultrasound images of the baby, and here are 3 of them. The gender identification picture will not be posted, and frankly I found it a little bit uncomfortable to be looking at my baby's private parts enlarged on a computer screen so it is doubtful that I would post that one in any case.

This first one is sort of the standard, baby laying on its back image. You can see the torso and head and also the bones of one of the arms running along side the body.



The second image is kind of the opposite of the previous, looking at the baby from a the back and side so you can clearly see the spine and outline of the back of the skull. This image is both comforting and sort of scary. While its GREAT to know that my baby has a nice, straight, healthy spine the image kind of reminds me of those partial dinosaur skeletons you see in museums.



The final image is looking at the baby from the front, directly at the face and also the arms/hands next to the head. The technician asked if I wanted a copy of this image because she said many parents find it to be a little frightening. Matt says this is our "Skeletor" baby photo, but I don't think it is so bad. That's my little one after all even if it does kind of look like there isn't any skin...

Nesting Behaviors for those who can not really nest.

For the last several weeks all I have wanted to do in my free time is prepare for the baby. I want to pick out cute little onsies and furniture and create a beautiful little nursery for the little angel who is due to enter into my life in about 5 more months.

As it stands, I can not do any of that. We haven't found out the gender of the baby yet and no matter how much I wish I could wait to find out until the birth... it just isn't going to happen. We want to know. And, to be perfectly honest, we sort of need to know because otherwise we're never going to be able to decide on names or a nursery theme or colors or really accomplish anything.

Oh, and we're moving the month before the baby is due, so it isn't like I can get the room set up now anyway.

To say that this is a point of stress in my life right now is an understatement. I am a planner and I want to plan for and prepare for this baby!!

Anyway, I can't. But, in a lucky break, a few weeks ago a teacher friend of mine offered me her children's high chair free of charge. She has 3 kids but promised aside from maybe needing a good scrub down that the chair was in good order and had lots of life left in it, even after the heavy use by her 3 kiddos. So here it is:



After a good scrub down I was quite pleased. I mean, sure, the baby won't need a high chair for a good long while yet but you can't beat something that's free and NICE on top of that.

My only concern was with the removable chair pad. The colors weren't really what I was hoping for and years of running through the washing machine had definitely given it a sort of worn down look. At first I was just planning on purchasing a new one at Babies R Us or someplace, but then my nesting urge started to really kick in and I decided to try to make a new one myself.

My mother and home ec teacher taught me basic sewing, and though I hadn't done much besides mend pants in years, yesterday I went to the fabric store and picked up the materials. After spending the better part of my day sewing today... here is the new chair pad.



I have to give a shout out to my wonderful husband who helped me pick out the fabric, which I think looks very cute and I am quite pleased. I just hope I can come up with a few more projects to keep me busy until I can actual do some real planning and baby prep.

Hungry Doggie

I think I mentioned awhile ago that we had to put our very fat cat on a diet. This of course means that all the pets went on a diet since he is just as happy to eat his little brother cat's food as his own and has been known to skip cat food altogether in favor of the dog's food which is apparently just better or perhaps easier to get to.

The vet told us to limit the amount of time when food is made available. In the morning Matt puts the food out as he is getting ready to leave around 5:30 and I put it away when I am leaving at 6:45. In the evenings their food is supposed to be out for another two hours starting at 5:00.

I don't think it's really working. Brutus is the same size as always but the skinny cat has definitely slimmed down a bit. Fatty still hurts my back when I pick him up. Mostly, the only change I've notice is that the cats refuse to let me sleep in at ALL past 5:30 when Matt isn't home. No, they scratch and yowl and carry on until I get up and give them their breakfast. It's spectacular. Especially since I am such a morning person.

Anyway, the other afternoon I managed to get home from work about an hour earlier than usual. This seemed to make all the hungry beasts want their dinner all the earlier, but I wasn't budging. Brutus, however, took matters into his own paws... or possibly nose. I don't know because I never saw how he actually got the cupboard with the food in it open. I just heard some scratching and banging coming from the kitchen followed by some happy crunching-munching sounds. When I went to investigate this is what I found:

Fun with Fifth Graders

Today in my 5th grade class there was a substitute and a rather, incompetent one at that. I can say this without feeling too judgemental or mean because I've done my share of time as a sub and I know from experience that there are good days and bad. This poor guy was definitely having a bad one.

I learned awhile ago that the key to maintaining student behavior is basically to be firm and have follow through. A straightforward, "I'll only be mean if you make me, but if you make me you can be sure I'll be mean" approach usually works for me.

I don't know what this guy's plan was, but it wasn't working. And, while the majority of the students in this class are good kids who were willing to cut the guy a break and maintain themselves, there are ALWAYS exceptions.

So I show up at my normal time and eventually I get them back to me and we settled into out lesson.

We were reviewing the names of the notes on the staff and I was teaching them to play "This Old Man" on xylophones. Unfortunately several of my students had never heard the song, (which hurts me a little to think about,) so I sang it to them.

One smart boy who tends to walk that fine line between star student and mouthy little thug piped up, "What's the point of that song?"

Me: I don't know, what's the point of any silly little kid song? To be fun and to rhyme and stuff?"

Him: Seems dumb to me, can't we do anything else?

Me: Well, no we can't but if you would like to register your complaint feel free to take a time out and sign the discipline log for your lack of participation and face the consequences from your teacher tomorrow if you really think this is beneath you.

Him: (Grumbling below his breath) Never mind...

So the class goes on. We're all happily dinging along on our little xylophones when this other student, a fairly odd boy who I've never really figured out, decided to just mindlessly whap on his instrument rather than listen to my next set of instructions. I stopped and reminded him not to play when I'm talking and told him to put his mallet down and not play until I said he could again.

He responded by putting his instrument back in the box and then putting his head down on his desk to sleep...

Me: Um, sir, what are you doing? Nobody told you to put your things away, you can play again in a few minutes.

Him: I don't want to.

Me: What? A minute ago you were enjoying playing so much you couldn't wait for me to stop talking? Please take your instrument back out and in a minute more you can play with us again.

Him: No, I don't want to. This is hard. I quit.

Me: You... quit? You can't quit.

Him: I quit.

Me: Quit what? Music? School? Life? That's not an option. In life there are things you have to do and this is one of them. Nobody is judging you based on how well you do at music, I just need you to try. You can't quit something every time its hard, please just try.

He started "trying" again for the rest of the xylophone lesson but then we got out our recorders. While I was passing out papers he asked me again, quietly so the other kids wouldn't hear...

Him: Are you sure it isn't too late to quit?

Me: What now?

Him: Quit. I don't want to do this.

Me: What do you mean "quit?" I know last year you quit the recorder club, but this isn't last year any more. In 5th grade we all learn recorders and it isn't an option. You can't quit reading or math or social studies and so you can't quit music either. It's good for you and it's supposed to be fun! Now I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop trying to quit everything and just work with me please.


*sigh*

It's lovely working with students who are ready to give up on everything at the ripe old age of 10.

Oh and for extra fun, after class a mallet was returned to me by a student. He claims he'd been given it by a classmate who'd caught another child trying to steal it and hide it in his backpack.



*sigh* again.

Because sometimes that's the only reaction that makes sense to me.

Baby Dreams and Love Stories

Last night I had my first hormone induced pregnancy dream that was actually about the baby. Up until now they've just been this ultra-bizarre mix of random stuff like giant squids and lunch meat or something. But, last night I dreamed first about the birth which was surprisingly easy (oh how I hope it will be) and then that it was a girl.

In the dream the baby had my husband hook line and sinker from the first moment. He was like gunning for Father of year or something while I was, in my own true fashion, a bit of a train wreck. Despite my best efforts, I constantly left the kid on the changing table and I pinched her with the car seat clip- that sort of stuff.

Then, for a nice little added spin, at the end of the dream our house was attacked by monsters. I don't remember the monsters but it all seemed like something out of a spider man movie as the gigantic demons ripped the roof off our house and then...

suddenly...

my alarm went off and woke me up.

As bizarre as the dream ended, I still had a hard time getting out of bed and leaving the idea of that little girl behind. Even if I was a horrible mother in my dream I loved her so much.

It's going to be a long week until out next ultrasound.

**************************

In other news, I've been feeling a tremendous desire lately to address another one of my pet peeves which involves any romantic song or story wherein a couple spends "eternity" together and never has to be apart. Like, ever.

You know the stories. You read them in reader's digest or in those Chicken Soup books and they're always about some sweet old couple and how they've slept next to each other ever night for 47 years or something.

I resent those sweet old people.

And then there all all those songs where they sing about "Take my hand and never let go" or "You'll never have to be alone."

I hear those song lyrics and all at once I am standing again by my car parked at the end of the pier and hugging my husband goodbye before he leaves for deployment. I can smell his skin along with the diesel in the air and feel his heart beating against my own chest where there is the deep, intense aching pain of sadness and fear.

Finally, he kisses me and starts to pull away. He tells me to be strong and that he loves me, but then he has to let go and walk away and I know that is will be months and before I can see and touch him again.




The memory kills me. And the worst part is I know this moment will come again.

No matter how much we love each other, and are devoted to each other and want to be together every moment of our lives, we can't. We, like pretty much every other person on the planet, have to go to work. And, his work has a nasty tendency of taking him away from me for long, long periods of time.

So, basically, all those stories and songs about true lovers never being apart just drive me crazy.

And sometimes make me cry.

That is all.

Morning People... Grr...

Around this time every week (Mondays that is) I wonder how it is possible that there are morning people in the world because I will never be one.

Don't get me wrong, mornings are amazing:

1. In the spring and summer everything sparkles in the morning and the birds chirp and the bugs buzz and its just... Wow!

2. In the winter when it snows the mornings are magical as everything is still and peaceful buried below and thick blanket of snow.

3. And with morning comes breakfast. I love breakfast food and would happily eat cereal and toast and fruit and pancakes and waffles every single meal of every single day if I could.

No, the trouble with mornings is that I am not amazing in them. I hate getting out of bed. I can never find anything to wear. The traffic always sucks and there isn't enough caffeine in the world to encourage me to naturally put a smile on my face, until at least 10:00.

Worst of all, with morning comes morning people. You know, those dreaded naturally cheerful early risers who bounce around jauntily before work daring to smile at everyone they see and toss out a sickeningly sweet good morning to anyone meet. As if this isn't bad enough, about half the time these annoyingly awake morning people often have the irritating habit of also asking, "How are you?"

Oh how I hate when people ask that question... especially in the morning. Why do people insist on asking that question? Nobody ever wants to hear the answer unless it is going to be "Fine." or "Great!" And let's face it folks, if you're not talking to another morning person freak show you're not going to get one of those answers until much later in the day.

Now sure, I suppose I could lie. I could paste a fake smile on my face and humor these people, but I hate acting so completely phony. Usually I sort of sigh and mumble something about how I'm hanging in there or I'll be better once I get going (which is actually exactly the way I feel most mornings) but by the reactions I get out the morning people you'd think I just told them I ran over their dog.

*Kindly allow me a moment to roll my eyes.*

I am not an unhappy person, I just take awhile to warm up every day. I love my life and I feel very blessed. I have a great career in a field that I love. I have a wonderful husband and adorable pets and an amazing baby on the way. It's just that I don't necessarily take the time to count these blessing and be cheerful and grateful about them first thing in the morning because I am too busy just trying to make it until noon.

And....

I don't think there is anything wrong with that.

Because, after all... I am a really great person to be around in the evenings. :)