July 6, 2008
May 15, 2008
I was on my way to work and my friend called me to ask me where my son was (I drop off Baboo at her house to catch the bus for school). I told her about his lasted affliction (poison something or other) and that he couldn’t go to school. We talked as I dropped Beebo off at his caregiver and went on my way to work. I sat in the car and we talked for a minute. I told her I had to go and she said, “WAIT!” So I sat there and she said she would see me later so I said, “Bye” again and she said, “I’m not talking to you.”
So I asked, “Who are you talking to?”
She said, “What?” (I swear I thought I was in a weird rendition of “Who’s on First?”)
But eventually I got off the phone and went to work in the Land of the Dense.
I puttered away 9 hours of my life and was ready to run at 4:30. My boss walked up to my doorway and started telling me about this and that for tomorrow’s schedule and I lost track of what he was saying because I wasn’t able to find my keys in the bottom of my purse. I murmured my responses to him and he nodded and went about his business.
I then dumped my purse on my desk to weed through the gum wrappers and tampons (why in the hell are those still in there), receipts and pens and found no keys.
So I looked in my desk drawers and pockets of my jacket and my sweater. NOTHING!
So I wondered to the bathroom thinking I put them in my pocket and they fell out on one of my many bathroom visits and they weren’t there.
So I figured they were laying in the car seat because I missed my purse when I went to drop them in.
I went out to my car and opened the car door and was nearly knocked over by the heat that radiated out of the car. I looked inside and the thermostat on the dash said 102. I looked around for my keys and saw they were in the ignition. I then went to turn on my car to get the AC going to get rid of the heat.
This is how slooooow I am.
First of all, I should have realized the thermostat can’t be read unless the car is running.
Second, the car was so hot because the defrost was on high heat when I got out of the car.
Third, the radio was playing.
Needless to say I left my keys in the ignition with the car running for 9 ½ hours with gas nearly $ 4.00 gallon! I almost cried. No one noticed. Not the guy who parked next to me (he could have and just not said anything- to me he is that guy at work that makes you wonder). Not anyone parked around me.
I can’t wait to sleep again. I guess I can in about 10 years.
April 14, 2008
I feel like I am going to explode out of my drawers! I have a Bella Band on today and I hate it. I have come to my 'simply impossible to be comfortable unless you are wearing yoga pants and a huge tee' stage. I did go to the bathroom earlier and only then was I able to button and clasp my pants! But it was pretty pointless because then my fat gets shoved above the waist of my pants and I then look like a backwards camel with 2 humps up front. If only I could shove it all in my bra!
My SIL and my mother told me I look pregnant. Great...All I need now is to have my MIL insist I am getting fat and then life will be officially miserable. My BIL assured me that I am 'still pretty stretched out' so he is not surprised. Thanks. As if I don't have enough image problems.
We had birthday party for Baboo this weekend and it was sucessful. Only a few nasty comments from the MIL but other than that it was nice. I just wanted to share one of her comments.
Scene: The Idiot and I are standing at the concession stand at our local bowling alley to turn in the kiddos drink orders and MIL shuffles up.
MIL:" So how much does this all cost?"
Me: " Why does it matter? You can't buy it on clearance at Costco so who cares!"
The Idiot: HAHAHA
Much later to my poor unsuspecting 'rents:
MIL: "That rattle used to be The Idiot's so I gave it to them for Beebo. But I didn't buy it at Costco."
My mother was WTFing and my polite father who can't hear, asked her to repeat because of course he didn't hear (I don't see how...she has Rush Limbaugh's deafness from her painkillers addiction and yells at everyone). So she repeated it. I then had to explain to my mother what her idiot comment was about.
I just hope to hide this pregnancy from her as long as possible because she thinks she has to rub your belly as you get bigger. Like shining a bowling ball. Honestly she is the only nutcase to do that. I have to sit there and let it happen for fear The Idiot will be upset with me for not cooperating with her wants and needs (because she is the one who will be uncomfortable for 9 months and her needs are most important). She also likes to stab your baby-incubator with her kitty-litter encrusted fingers. As if it isn't uncomfortable because it's stretched taut that she has to cause you more pain by shoving her dirty long fingernail in your gut.
I am really dreading the day we tell her anything. She was so mad at me for not finding out the gender that she will be on me again this time.
A conversation last September:
MIL: How far along are you?
TI: She is 9 months.
MIL: No she is not.
TI: How far along are you?
Me: 9 months.
MIL: No you are not.
TI and BIL: You are pregnant 10 months, Mom. 40 weeks. 40 weeks is 10 months.
MIL: I don't know where you get your information from!
TI: The doctor.
MIL: Well it must be a man because you are actually pregnant 11 months.
Me: (thinking to myself WTF???? Is she really this crazy and what have I gotten myself into!)
TI: No Mom, you are wrong.
MIL: I would think I would know since I had 3 kids. (While I am standing there) She only has one and she is probably lying about anything that has to do with him. (then to me) What are you going to name that baby?
Me: I don't know we don't even know if we are having a boy or girl.
MIL: Bullshit! You know and you just won't tell me! You are probably going to name that baby Shitpot just to embarrass me!
Me: You're right! I can't name the baby something normal because I named my first Pisspot so they have to match right?
The Idiot was so upset that he actually considered calling her and telling her Shitpot was here if she wanted to visit. I made the phone call to my FIL who relayed the information. But she informed The Idiot the other day that she doesn't remember going to the hospital to see Beebo. I was thinking of convincing The Idiot that we could just pretend like we told her and then when she comes to realize it we just tell her we told her and she forgot!
I think I will just wear parkas for the duration of the summer, sit in my closet, and avoid anything that requires visiting with the out-laws.
April 10, 2008
So the doctor has him taking the blood pressure meds that he should have been taking all this time. His blood pressure was on the high side so that's why. He needs to take care of himself because now he has 4 people counting on him! Plus his mom. She might need him to come change her 15 cat boxes.
I just can't get over the fact that he is so unbelievably stubborn.
April 8, 2008
Baboo is doing so well on his meds that it is unbelievable! We have had only one problem we have had since he started and it wasn’t even his fault.
The schools in our area have a NO FIGHTING policy. If a child picks a fight with another child and it gets physical everyone is to blame. Apparently there is a rugrat on his bus that is a constant trouble maker and has it out for Baboo. His ‘4th grade guardian’ wasn’t on the bus to block him in and he meandered back to Baboo’s seat and started hitting him. So Baboo fought back.
Now luckily the principal caught my husband on the phone at home and not me. The first thing I thought of was FIGHT OR FLIGHT.
I found this:
What is the "fight or flight response?"
This fundamental physiologic response forms the foundation of modern day stress medicine. The "fight or flight response" is our body's primitive, automatic, inborn response that prepares the body to "fight" or "flee" from perceived attack, harm or threat to our survival.
Interesting…I wonder what else it says.
What happens to us when we are under excessive stress?
When we experience excessive stress—whether from internal worry or external circumstance—a bodily reaction is triggered, called the "fight or flight" response. Originally discovered by the great Harvard physiologist Walter Cannon, this response is hard-wired into our brains and represents a genetic wisdom designed to protect us from bodily harm. This response actually corresponds to an area of our brain called the hypothalamus, which—when stimulated—initiates a sequence of nerve cell firing and chemical release that prepares our body for running or fighting.
What are the signs that our fight or flight response has been stimulated (activated)?
When our fight or flight response is activated, sequences of nerve cell firing occur and chemicals like adrenaline, noradrenalin and cortisol are released into our bloodstream. These patterns of nerve cell firing and chemical release cause our body to undergo a series of very dramatic changes. Our respiratory rate increases. Blood is shunted away from our digestive tract and directed into our muscles and limbs, which require extra energy and fuel for running and fighting. Our pupils dilate. Our awareness intensifies. Our sight sharpens. Our impulses quicken. Our perception of pain diminishes. Our immune system mobilizes with increased activation. We become prepared—physically and psychologically—for fight or flight. We scan and search our environment, "looking for the enemy."
When our fight or flight system is activated, we tend to perceive everything in our environment as a possible threat to our survival. By its very nature, the fight or flight system bypasses our rational mind—where our more well thought out beliefs exist—and moves us into "attack" mode. This state of alert causes us to perceive almost everything in our world as a possible threat to our survival. As such, we tend to see everyone and everything as a possible enemy. Like airport security during a terrorist threat, we are on the look out for every possible danger. We may overreact to the slightest comment. Our fear is exaggerated. Our thinking is distorted. We see everything through the filter of possible danger. We narrow our focus to those things that can harm us. Fear becomes the lens through which we see the world.
We can begin to see how it is almost impossible to cultivate positive attitudes and beliefs when we are stuck in survival mode. Our heart is not open. Our rational mind is disengaged. Our consciousness is focused on fear, not love. Making clear choices and recognizing the consequences of those choices is unfeasible. We are focused on short-term survival, not the long-term consequences of our beliefs and choices. When we are overwhelmed with excessive stress, our life becomes a series of short-term emergencies. We lose the ability to relax and enjoy the moment. We live from crisis to crisis, with no relief in sight. Burnout is inevitable. This burnout is what usually provides the motivation to change our lives for the better. We are propelled to step back and look at the big picture of our lives—forcing us to examine our beliefs, our values and our goals.
What is our fight or flight system designed to protect us from?
Our fight or flight response is designed to protect us from the proverbial saber tooth tigers that once lurked in the woods and fields around us, threatening our physical survival. At times when our actual physical survival is threatened, there is no greater response to have on our side. When activated, the fight or flight response causes a surge of adrenaline and other stress hormones to pump through our body. This surge is the force responsible for mothers lifting cars off their trapped children and for firemen heroically running into blazing houses to save endangered victims. The surge of adrenaline imbues us with heroism and courage at times when we are called upon to protect and defend the lives and values we cherish.
Once it has been triggered, what is the natural conclusion of our fight or flight response?
By its very design, the fight or flight response leads us to fight or to flee—both creating immense amounts of muscle movement and physical exertion. This physical activity effectively metabolizes the stress hormones released as a result of the activation of our fight or flight response. Once the fighting is over, and the threat—which triggered the response—has been eliminated, our body and mind return to a state of calm.
Now I know that it is not the principal’s fault. She didn’t make up the rule. I will give her a small break and that is hard for me because I am a realist. I don't expect children to be robots but I do expect them to follow rules within reason for their age. But is he really supposed to sit there and let the kid pound on him and wait until the inattentive bus driver realized what was going on? I guess you can deny the science of our bodies and punish involuntary reactions. It's not like he could flee!
All I know is that Baboo is lucky that she didn’t get a hold of me. I think I will let her know Thursday at his Spring Concert about how I feel. Or email her and the school superintendent the ‘fight or flight’ info. It’s ridiculous. We told Baboo that if someone attacks or hits him he has a right to fight back and he scraps every now and then but never, ever will he hit a girl. I refuse to raise children that can’t stick up for themselves or lack free-thinking. I think the kid was actually older than him too. Poor guy.
April 1, 2008
And forget about taking care of myself! My legs are so hairy that I am scared to wear capris for fear that someone will call animal control on me and have me hauled off. Half the time I want to eat but once it's in front of me I just can't do it. I just can't eat it or I nibble. I know the baby is fine. I sit at a desk all day at work. I am not using any calories.
Do not get me wrong... I love my kids. I just feel a little overwhelmed right now. And hiding the pregnancy from the bosses, the hens at work and the out-laws makes me on edge too. My boss comes in and sits down and asks me what is going on and why I am so quiet all the time. I just shrug my shoulders. Scared to even open my mouth. As if I would blurt it out. I want to. My boss and I have known each other for about 11 years. I just don't want to say anything before I know that truly, everything is ok.
Call me crazy...
March 29, 2008
March 24, 2008
The princesses didn’t know they had rights at this time and decided to let it be because they were young and no one would probably listen to them or respect them enough to listen (Law and Order SVU wasn’t running then to give them any ideas). But it became too much to bear and they got together and plotted against the evil Prince Dirty.
One night, very late, the princesses decided they were fed up with the ass-grabbing and the phone calls and the floor scrubbin’ and they went to Prince Dirty’s parent’s castle (while he was out fighting dragons in the drive-thru). See Prince Dirty gave the tiniest princess the address during one of his late night drunk calls. The princesses ran around the yard and stuck sanitary napkins covered in ketchup all over the trees in his yard (it looked like someone went white dove hunting), ketchup packets, and trash and threw toilet paper everywhere. One princess decided she would also leave a stinky present on the driveway for Prince Dirty. All the while the princesses were giggling and laughing hysterically.
The princesses went home and collapsed into a fit of giggles at what he would find.
The next day mean Prince Dirty was ranting and raving about how someone pooped on his driveway. The princesses held it together when a co-worker asked him if it was his dog. He swore it wasn’t his dog because a) his dog wouldn’t do that and b) it was people poo! He couldn’t believe that someone shit on his driveway. And he showed everyone pictures of the poo.
I hope the caca on his daddy’s driveway disrupts him to this very day or his perverted ass is in jail.
Stupid evil prince…
March 21, 2008
I better calm down. The Idiot may get jealous. But probably not as insanely jealous as I get when he drools over a muscle car with a 357 with NO chick on the hood!!
I strong-armed (not really) my mother into going to the ultrasound and we saw the little baby. I do mean little. But there was a heartbeat and everything is fine and dandy according to the doctor. It was a touching moment. She has been there for both of my boy's births and we aren't really planning for her to be at this one. She is not offended but she will be there at a drop of a hat if I call her to come hither and yon again.
I just can’t wait to follow my mother’s footsteps and take over the position of calling kids by mixing their names up or just running them all together, or rattling all of them off until one shows up. That ought to be a hoot!
I recall a lot of “Neil and Bradley, Bradley and Neil.” I also recall “Delia, Neil and Bradley, Bradley, Neil and Delia.” Sometimes we heard “Neilia!”and "Nadley" and we weren’t sure who was needed. I am not making fun of my mother at all, because I will be doing it too. I am sure of that. I just think it’s comical that things that were funny to you as a child will come back to bite you in the ass.
Someone asked me what my nickname for the newbie will be, and for now it will be Teeny Tiny (like it Alisha?). Basically, because that is the only thing known about our latest addition now. After birth we will see what we are dealing with.
Baboo came from my mother. I don’t know where she got it from. She might comment and explain but it stuck. It is more like a term of endearment. Only used by family members.
Beebo came from a Susan Reinhardt book. It is an awesome read. I don’t want to spoil it for anyone but it will make you cry because a) it’s so funny, it’s so true and b) she does touch on some serious subjects in it.
And Tiny Teeny will just remain Teeny and Tiny until we learn some other attributes. I am just praying that we won’t have to change the nickname to Gigantor and Monstrous before their arrival.
I am sure that everyone has nicknames for their family members.
Mine was not only Princess Thundercloud. I was also anointed with Bubble-butt. (Don’t hate me because of my nickname- it is a bubble-butt)
The Idiot’s is Slug. I imagine it’s because he is so full of life and initiative.
My Siblings nicknames-Speedy B, Mr. Perfect, Mr. Baby, Marmaduke (yes the cartoon Great Dane-my personal insult to my youngest brother), G2.
I am sure you have nicknames for your little ones or family members that drive you nuts or that you love. If not just wait. It will happen. Or you could have a Neilia or a Nadley running around and not know it!
P.S. I have been known to call the in-laws the OUTLAWS.
March 18, 2008
I just wanted to share some of the funny things my mom says to brighten my day. Yes you, Mama! I am being nice.
When I told her that we are expecting again, she covered her face with her hands and started chuckling, then she said, "Just because I gave you a mini-van doesn't mean you have to fill it in 2 years!" and "The Idiot must love you a lot!"
She also called me the other day right after I lay down and opened a book, so I didn't run to the phone and my message was, "God, can't you two stop having sex long enough to even answer the phone!?!"
Email Message from Mama on Valentine's day:
Now that you're married you have obviously noticed that we fems must rely upon one another for Valentine's Day greetings. When you gave me the card last night, I knew that, sadly, this reality has now touched you, too.
Mama didn’t raise a fool! I wouldn’t expect any man to be romantic (you know the kind in the movies, not that crap they pull to get you in the sack) without a little bit (or a lot) of guilt. Quite frankly, if he was I would worry that he was a closet homosexual. Thus, I used my witchy ways to make The Idiot get me something (a neck massager-he just doesn’t want to massage my neck now either).
Maybe we should lobby to have a personal chef, housekeeper, book-keeper, nurse, shopper, sex-hole and child bearer day (I think they call this mother’s day now but for some reason it isn’t gratifying). Somehow we will have to tie in drinking, sports events, and sex to make it all the rage to get the admiration we justly deserve. Maybe in my case we throw in a car or 2 as an attention grabber and it could work. I mean they have Secretary’s Day and Grandparent’s Day. Shouldn’t they have a National Slave of Matrimony Day? It could be a little bit better than macaroni glued in the shape of a heart to construction paper. The husbands could give us money to shop for ourselves. I know it is unheard of, but just think, we could go shopping for a nice fitting brassiere instead of their tube socks or diapers for kids! Or they could send us on vacation to somewhere fun. You know some place we want to go. A girl can dream. Maybe we could write a letter to Hallmark, American Greetings and other card companies to get the ball rolling. They would die for another day to sell greeting cards! They could do the lobbying for us.
She also gets a kick out of this.
Maybe this is why I love her and our weekly lunches so. She makes me laugh and keeps me grounded (and she gives us money when we need it!).
March 17, 2008
I have had people ask me to give them a message, and if I know where they are. It's a freaking phone number! How do I know where they live now? I have told these assholes to take us off their list and check their fucking credit report like they do us. That's how they keep finding me.
Sorry just a rant of a pregnant woman. Who goes to bed at 7:30 or 8 and passes out as her head hits the pillow. Don't want to be waken up an hour later to be asked about Amanda and Anthony Hong and their whereabouts.
Oh yeah and do men eat rotting dead carcasses covered in curry for lunch and crap it out here at work. I know my stomach flip-flopped and somersaulted on my way out of the door all the way outside because I breathed in through my nose as I walked past the men's room. HUGE MISTAKE! I ran outside for air. Thought I was going to die!
March 13, 2008
Doctor, "What seems to be the problem?"
Patient, "Doc, I've got the farts. I mean I fart all the time,"
The Doctor nods, "Hmm."
Patient, "My farts do not stink and you can't hear them. It's just that I fart all the time. Look, we've been talking here for about 10 minutes and I've farted five times. You didn't hear them and you don't smell them, do you?"
"Hmm," says the Doctor,He picks up his pad and writes out a prescription.
The patient is thrilled "Great doc. This prescription, will it really clear up my farts?"
"No," sighs the Doctor, "The prescription is to clear your sinuses. Next week I want you back here for a hearing test."
Ok I admit, I am a sucker for a good fart joke! :)This one might make you cry. I know I did.
March 11, 2008
The Jackass Award for the Month of March
Now I know you are probably asking, “Why give the award now when we haven’t even cleared the Ides of March or St. Pat's?”
Well let me share my recent dilemma and I will let you decide who the real jackass is.
Let’s say I have furniture and odds and ends from my 1st pregnancy. Let’s say said furniture was borrowed by a few family members when they had a surprise pregnancy. The furniture and items borrowed are returned unwillingly. Upon inspection these items are ruined beyond any usable means.
Items up for ponder:
A dual swing/ high-chair that has the clips broken off upon return so it could only be used as a swing but when you push the swing forward the seat falls off the brackets because the seat is cracked on one side of the area that attaches to the bracket. As an added bonus, I got pen marked graffiti that was too intricate for a then 2 year-old to doodle freehanded.
Various clothing that has been stained beyond recognition.
Various baby toys that were meant to be keepsakes broken and ruined, or drawn on.
A 200 year-old cradle that is a family heirloom (my mother has a history with it and she had it refinished for her children), stored up-side down in the unfinished basement so the tops of the posts are scuffed and roughed up. And it had junk piled inside it when my mother went to get it ready to bring to me.
Now I know you want to give them the finger and the award but we have a few other contenders as well.
Let’s send The Idiot to pick-up the old baby bed that I recently did a once-over on, at a recent visit to the rents. After my once-over, the bed was in pieces but could easily be assembled. I felt kind of lucky to get something out of the wreckage they have created, unscathed. Of course the relatives did not recall where they put the bolts and nuts for the bed, let alone recall ever using it.
The Idiot brings said bed home in our recently acquired mini-van after various phone calls to me about how he can’t find parts and he can buy this part here or there. Due to the unpredictable weather we experience here in the Midwest, the bed sat in the van until this past weekend. I used my womanly charms to get him to get it out of the van to bring it in. No, it wasn’t charming at all. It was the guilt-trip of all guilt-trips. So it upset him immensely and created a big show of dragging it all in and lining it up against the living room furniture.
Now that I was in good light and could see the pieces of the bed in all of their glory. I noticed something that looked like urp, petrified to the spindles of the bed. The Idiot brought in another piece and the spindles were broken off. This created a whole different argument about bringing home something that was ruined and wasting time when he obviously saw it. But see, I told him to bring it home. I did the once over. He was only doing what I told him to do. And I was crazy for thinking anything my relatives touched would go unharmed. He failed to mention that the spindles were broken, the mattress was ripped, and the bed and mattress were colored on with a Sharpie. When asked what he was going to do with the broken spindles he replied that he would glue it back! UGH!! I can see poor Beebo getting tiny splinters in his tiny hands so that was not an excuse.
So please vote for the Jackass of March. I will have voting up until April 1st. This is the broken bedHere is the new one. This is brand new. We didn't duct tape the bedtogether. I promise.
March 8, 2008
I am excited about going clothes shopping again. But only because my dumb ass sold some of my maternity clothes on Ebay after I moved. I only sold the things I really didn't like too much. But if I get to buy this little number that might make getting rid of my blah maternity clothes worth it. But I won't buy anything until I am further along in my pregnancy. I don't want to jinx it.
But if anyone has any male names that begin and end with the same letter we are open to suggestion. We have girl names from our previous picks and we can't think of any boy names right now. The Idiot wants to keep a theme going since our other 2 coincidentally have names that begin and end with the same letter. He discovered this when I forced him to fill out a form of some sort and now wants to have a running theme.
On a lighter note The Idiot hopped on the scale and told me he was too fat. So I reassured him and went down to work on my laundry and he called down to me that he was going to make a whole canister of biscuits and eat them all, unless I wanted some. I told him he was an idiot and that an entire container of Pilsbury biscuits won't help in the weight gain department.
Poor Beebo's face is terrible. I feel for him. His eyes are swollen half shut from a cold and his cheeks are raw from the chapping. He also claws his face when he is tired and he looks like he got into a fight with a cheese grater. So sad.
This is Baboo after I woke him up when he had a bout of the flu. He is so sick and I know he wants to kill us in this picture but it was so funny. I couldn't help my self. I suppose this is a mark on my 'Bad Mommy' list.
Poor Baboo. He is currently getting ready to start meds for his ADHD. I am worried about the meds and their affect on him. A few side effects are not wanting to eat (he is skinny as a rail), and not wanting to sleep (it's like an episode of 'Let's Make A Deal' around here when I need him to get to sleep). I just hope this gives him a fighting chance. I feel that without it I am setting him up to fail and that would be a huge no-no and be an extra 100 points for the 'Bad Mommy' list.
Well off for an adventure at the Chinese Buffet and the mall.
March 6, 2008
I was fortunate enough to not have the women ask if I know how this all happens. I assume everyone working there sees a + test as a $. So they are probably glad that it happened. And due to my ‘condition’ I will have to make frequent visits again this next 2 months. The sad thing is that I still have to pay for my last delivery and that should be done and over with by the end of next month.
So I have been sick and exhausted. Not something that is alarming if you know that you are pregnant and on progesterone tablets. But I find this whole added hormones thing a bit of a mess. See, I called to get the pills the day after I had confirmed the pregnancy myself. They had me come and get blood drawn and told me that they would call if the results were not good. So imagine my surprise when the LNP told me that I was smart to get the pills because my progesterone levels are low. I asked how low.
“15 is the ideal number we stick with around here and yours was 6.9. So we are going to do another blood draw today to check your HCG and your progesterone levels. If you are still below the ideal level we will increase your progesterone dosage.”
Now this worries me a great deal because what if I was meant to miscarry? What if something was not right and I should have just let everything be. Plus they NEVER called me! Hello? Is anyone home? I would know if they called beause a) The Idiot does not answer the phone, b) because The Idiot does not answer the phone he thinks this justifies him not checking voicemail so I check all the voicemail, and c) I WAS WAITING FOR THEM TO CALL! I had a feeling that this was why I had miscarried in 2006 after they informed me while pregnant with Beebo that my progesterone was low. I figured it was imoortant since THEY were freaking out about it last time when it was 12.3. WTF???????
So I kind of calmed down before I blew up (hence the childhood nickname) and I explained my mother’s history with blighted ovum and she said she realized my concern. So she scheduled me for an u/s the next day. So today I have to go back and have my pregnancy confirmed as viable or unviable. So I will sit at work and pretend to pour over numbers and figures and estimates while my brain screams. I am sure I slept last night terribly well. It was probably due to the fact that Christian won Project Runway (I preferred Chris for the final 3) but I think I just stored all of the information in the back of my mind for safe keeping.
The Idiot’s reaction to the news was no reaction because Family Guy re-runs were on and those are far more important than the possibility that I could miscarry again. He has a ‘trick’ were he turns his head slightly in my direction and nods or says, “yeah” when I pause to breath. Eyes are always glued to the tube. I don’t know if it is typical man behavior or just his behavior to have selective hearing.
Baboo’s father and I did not have to compete with the TV for attention because when we moved in together he decided that he was going to get rid of the TV for fear that it would consume him and all of his ultra-intelligent brain power and he had so much to share, let me tell you. I can't recall an intelligent conversation with him to this day. We worked opposite hours so I went home and slept or read and when he was home we had to have sex. So I lived with that man for 3 months with no TV with all the sex I could ever want and more. It's not a wonder I got pregnant with Baboo at all. I still ended up hating him and the ridiculous choices he made in the end but still he didn’t pay attention to me either. Come to think of it, it did take him an awfully long time to read Hannibal. He read that book from the day I moved in to the day I moved out. He must be a slow reader or a great fraud.
I was a little ticked that The Idiot wasn’t too concerned with what I said. I think I will test him this afternoon when I come home from work. I might just mention that I got an ultrasound and that we are having twins or something mind-blowing to see if he even flinches.
The last time I was pregnant, (as if that was long ago), I took a shower in our wonderful modest mobile home. The tub was high so I was to the point of not being able to lift my leg very high and I was worried that I would slip and fall. I swear to this day that I stood in my shower dripping wet, covered with a towel and screamed and hollered The Idiot’s name for a good 5 minutes. He finally showed up and asked me, “what?” This was practiced daily at our house. I was scared that I was going to fall through the rotten floor so he had to help me. I was so mad I asked him if there were boobs and wheels or engines on the TV and if that is why he chose to ignore me. Well, guess what he was watching? Overhaulin. Such an Idiot. I could have been standing there getting ready to have a baby with contractions, leaking the whole nine yards and he wouldn’t come anywhere near me till there was a commercial. So ridiculous.
Men...need I say more?
March 5, 2008
I am using my childhood nickname Princessthundercloud. I am currently 30, the mother of 2 boys, Baboo 7, and Beebo who is 5 months tomorrow. The Idiot and I are expecting our 3rd this coming October.
People may think I am a bit of a bitch for calling my dear, darling, innocent husband The Idiot but sometimes I think he truly is. I do not know if he is pulling a hoax by acting the fool to get out of work but I assume he probably is. He is wonderful with my boys and loves Baboo and Beebo with all his heart. But sometimes…you ladies know what I mean.
Take the discovery of our latest pregnancy. Before our latest family member was even discovered I was fatigued, sick and in complete denial. I mean I only had one period since weaning my baby and it was preposterous to think that it could happen again and so fast! But I tested and it was positive. So when I told The Idiot all he could think to say was, “Oh my God.”. He could try a little bit of happiness. He knows how miserable I was carrying our last child in the heat of summer and every ache and pain that came with it and all I get is OMG- he did include, “at least your boobs will come back”. Those are strong words of encouragement aren't they?
See, not our most romantic conversation to date and it is sure to not be the last.