Today at work we had to get new photos for our company badges. My office operates on a strict policy of enforcing work safety which consists of wearing a photo id badge at all times and locking your computer every time you leave your desk. I am not certain how this makes our work environment safer, but I do know it's one more thing I must rummage for each morning in my big-ass purse.
I have always wondered how secure our building really is when one of my friends at work had a picture of Pavarotti that he taped over his photo badge for months and our office security guards were none the wiser. Or how one woman on my floor could only have one badge, when she changes out her hair color and style by wearing a different wig, different days of the week? One day she has short red hair, the next it is long straight and black. I think the security guards know it's her, because she wears an obscene amount of perfume in order to cover the smell of cigarettes. Cigarettes and strong musky perfume at 9am mean I am always waiting for the next elevator. I apparently have little to no lung strength, as I cannot hold my breath for five floors.
So today I had to get my photo taken for my new badge that I will be stuck with until 2013, unless I am willing to pay $10 for a replacement. Being eight months pregnant, my face is a wee bit swollen, a bit more filled out than usual. I knew this wasn't going to be pretty.
As our security guard prints out and hands me my new badge, I grimace and realize for the next five years I am stuck with a picture where I look bloated, extremely tired, and 20 pounds overweight. The only thing I could think of? Thank God it wasn't a full body shot .
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
28 Weeks and Growing
Being pregnant makes you a walking target for numerous inappropriate and downright rude comments from seemingly considerate people. Fortunately for me, getting pregnant was no easy feat, so from day one I have relished the burgeoning belly, enormous breasts, and maternity clothes. I know you may be thinking I am being sarcastic, but in all honesty I have loved every moment. I wake up thankful everyday to be sharing in this happy conspiracy. My special ever-growing, ever-moving gift. Date of arrival, still to be determined.
What is a constant surprise to me is how a lot of people really want to rain on your pregnancy parade. Here are just a few of the total bullshit comments I have heard just this week.
"Wow. You are so much bigger than my daughter".
This was said by a co-worker, who seems to think we share some bond since her daughter is due two months before me. Her daughter has had a very difficult pregnancy and I truly do hate that for her. She found out early on that she had gestational diabetes and is only 29 days away from her delivery date and has only gained 10 pounds. Of course I must look enormous to her. I can gain 10 pounds over the Thanksgiving holidays.
"Are you sure your due date isn't earlier than April?
Hmmm you're probably right. I have absolutely no interest in the actual projected delivery date of my own child. Like it hasn't been etched in my mind from day one and I haven't been counting off each week. I smile back politely, but in my mind I slap them squarely on the forehead and kick them in the shins. Hard.
"Can you still see your feet"?
Um yea. WTF kind of question is this? But to answer your moronic question, I can still see my feet because I know they are in desperate need of some love and affection. AKA a pedicure.
"How much weight have you gained"?
Again, WTF. This question should be off limits. PERIOD.
I smile back and lie. I tell them a number that is five pounds less than my weight at my last check-up which was almost a month ago. In my mind I sucker punch them in their not-so-firm stomach and laugh as they bend over in pain, trying to catch their breath.
"Boy you really have popped out".
This one I don't mind as much as the others. I simply smile and say, yes he is just growing and growing.
"Well you really are all baby".
Hmm thanks for the compliment, but I have seen my rear-end, my ankles, the extra skin on my back. I know when I zip up my knee-high boots in an attempt to sexy-up a maternity dress, that they are tight in the legs and I will pay the price for wearing them later. Don't try to play me like a fool. But again I simply smile and say, thank you.
What should all of these messengers of idiocy be thankful for? So far my hormones have been in check. No random bouts of sniveling. In fact, I have been truly shocked by my own manners and self restraint in these delicate situations. Normally I tend to have a quick tongue and speak off the cuff.
Right now, I feel as if I am wading down a long warm leisurely river where with each passing month the current begins to speed up ever-so-slightly. I know at the end I will have to swim the rapids and I want to be able to go with it, instead of fight the current. Maybe I'm starting to realize that I will need all the stores of my energy I can save, for what is to come.
What is a constant surprise to me is how a lot of people really want to rain on your pregnancy parade. Here are just a few of the total bullshit comments I have heard just this week.
"Wow. You are so much bigger than my daughter".
This was said by a co-worker, who seems to think we share some bond since her daughter is due two months before me. Her daughter has had a very difficult pregnancy and I truly do hate that for her. She found out early on that she had gestational diabetes and is only 29 days away from her delivery date and has only gained 10 pounds. Of course I must look enormous to her. I can gain 10 pounds over the Thanksgiving holidays.
"Are you sure your due date isn't earlier than April?
Hmmm you're probably right. I have absolutely no interest in the actual projected delivery date of my own child. Like it hasn't been etched in my mind from day one and I haven't been counting off each week. I smile back politely, but in my mind I slap them squarely on the forehead and kick them in the shins. Hard.
"Can you still see your feet"?
Um yea. WTF kind of question is this? But to answer your moronic question, I can still see my feet because I know they are in desperate need of some love and affection. AKA a pedicure.
"How much weight have you gained"?
Again, WTF. This question should be off limits. PERIOD.
I smile back and lie. I tell them a number that is five pounds less than my weight at my last check-up which was almost a month ago. In my mind I sucker punch them in their not-so-firm stomach and laugh as they bend over in pain, trying to catch their breath.
"Boy you really have popped out".
This one I don't mind as much as the others. I simply smile and say, yes he is just growing and growing.
"Well you really are all baby".
Hmm thanks for the compliment, but I have seen my rear-end, my ankles, the extra skin on my back. I know when I zip up my knee-high boots in an attempt to sexy-up a maternity dress, that they are tight in the legs and I will pay the price for wearing them later. Don't try to play me like a fool. But again I simply smile and say, thank you.
What should all of these messengers of idiocy be thankful for? So far my hormones have been in check. No random bouts of sniveling. In fact, I have been truly shocked by my own manners and self restraint in these delicate situations. Normally I tend to have a quick tongue and speak off the cuff.
Right now, I feel as if I am wading down a long warm leisurely river where with each passing month the current begins to speed up ever-so-slightly. I know at the end I will have to swim the rapids and I want to be able to go with it, instead of fight the current. Maybe I'm starting to realize that I will need all the stores of my energy I can save, for what is to come.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Over the past year J has been monitoring his blood pressure. High blood pressure runs in his family. We have always known it was borderline high and have made half-ass attempts to keep it down, like not adding salt to anything we cook and exercising occasionally. When J had his annual check-up last year, the doc told him he didn't want to put him on blood pressure medicine because of how young he is, so he would give him a year to make some lifestyle changes and see what progress he had made.
So over the past year J has monitored his blood pressure at home a couple times a week and written it down so there would be a record of the highs and lows. Some days it was ok and some days it was high. Stressful day at work = high, weekend where we get in a hike at our favorite park and cook a nice dinner = low.
Over the last few months, starting around the Thanksgiving holidays and going through Christmas, J's blood pressure went up and never went back down. The true scare came last weekend while we were at my Dad's and his blood pressure reading was really high. Like should we rush him to the emergency room, the man might self destruct.
I tried to calm him down by explaining that everyone had probably eaten too many sausage balls, dips with cream cheese, and drank themselves loose over the holidays. It tis the season. Not to mention, hearing my daily rants over all the things on the Christmas check-off list that must get done and will never happen, could send anyone over the edge. But quietly to myself, I worried as well.
On Monday morning J called the doctor and went in that day. His heart reading at the office was high as well. Our doctor did tell J that since he had seen him last year, he had gained 10 pounds. He also asked J if he had been exercising (raising his heart beat for a minimum of 30 minutes) 4 to 5 days a week. Ummm, no.
He wrote J a prescription and said that he was going to have him take the meds for a month, just to help get his blood pressure back into a normal range. He also wanted him to cut way back on his salt intake and exercise 4 to 5 days a week. In a month if his blood pressure had gone down, he would have him slowly get off the medicine and see if it would stay down with a good diet and daily exercise.
Overall I feel like we eat better than most. I am committed to buying many organic products, we eat lots of vegetables, and we don't eat fast food. We only eat meat occasionally and it is always lean. When J got home that night we went through our pantry and read the labels. Making sense out of food labels is extremely difficult to do.
What we found is that most boxed food items, our weekly frozen pizza, the vegetarian chicken nuggets, salad dressings, even some organic cereals, have a lot of sodium. Especially when your daily intake should be around 1,000 to 1,200 milligrams.
So our diet is going through some reconstruction. My grocery shopping trip took twice as long as it normally does . I was able to find some cereals that are low in sodium, but found it nearly impossible to find any salad dressings that weren't out the roof. I guess we need to start making our own dressings. If you have any recipes, please send them my way.
J made the commitment to change as well. He went to the gym at his work and ran on the treadmill every day this week. This has been a bone of contention with me for years. His company has a gym for their employees, yet he could never find the time to exercise. But I will let that go, I want to be as positive and supportive now as possible.
The motivation to be healthy has always been a murky idea lurking out in the distance, but with roo on the way, it is front and center. With this new life growing, moving, kicking inside me, it brings all those things that we used to be able to push off into the future, glaringly to the present. The time really is NOW, though in reality, it always has been.
So over the past year J has monitored his blood pressure at home a couple times a week and written it down so there would be a record of the highs and lows. Some days it was ok and some days it was high. Stressful day at work = high, weekend where we get in a hike at our favorite park and cook a nice dinner = low.
Over the last few months, starting around the Thanksgiving holidays and going through Christmas, J's blood pressure went up and never went back down. The true scare came last weekend while we were at my Dad's and his blood pressure reading was really high. Like should we rush him to the emergency room, the man might self destruct.
I tried to calm him down by explaining that everyone had probably eaten too many sausage balls, dips with cream cheese, and drank themselves loose over the holidays. It tis the season. Not to mention, hearing my daily rants over all the things on the Christmas check-off list that must get done and will never happen, could send anyone over the edge. But quietly to myself, I worried as well.
On Monday morning J called the doctor and went in that day. His heart reading at the office was high as well. Our doctor did tell J that since he had seen him last year, he had gained 10 pounds. He also asked J if he had been exercising (raising his heart beat for a minimum of 30 minutes) 4 to 5 days a week. Ummm, no.
He wrote J a prescription and said that he was going to have him take the meds for a month, just to help get his blood pressure back into a normal range. He also wanted him to cut way back on his salt intake and exercise 4 to 5 days a week. In a month if his blood pressure had gone down, he would have him slowly get off the medicine and see if it would stay down with a good diet and daily exercise.
Overall I feel like we eat better than most. I am committed to buying many organic products, we eat lots of vegetables, and we don't eat fast food. We only eat meat occasionally and it is always lean. When J got home that night we went through our pantry and read the labels. Making sense out of food labels is extremely difficult to do.
What we found is that most boxed food items, our weekly frozen pizza, the vegetarian chicken nuggets, salad dressings, even some organic cereals, have a lot of sodium. Especially when your daily intake should be around 1,000 to 1,200 milligrams.
So our diet is going through some reconstruction. My grocery shopping trip took twice as long as it normally does . I was able to find some cereals that are low in sodium, but found it nearly impossible to find any salad dressings that weren't out the roof. I guess we need to start making our own dressings. If you have any recipes, please send them my way.
J made the commitment to change as well. He went to the gym at his work and ran on the treadmill every day this week. This has been a bone of contention with me for years. His company has a gym for their employees, yet he could never find the time to exercise. But I will let that go, I want to be as positive and supportive now as possible.
The motivation to be healthy has always been a murky idea lurking out in the distance, but with roo on the way, it is front and center. With this new life growing, moving, kicking inside me, it brings all those things that we used to be able to push off into the future, glaringly to the present. The time really is NOW, though in reality, it always has been.
Monday, January 14, 2008
All Growed Up
At work I have been one employee short since before the holidays. Since we are a lean mean team of three being down one makes a big difference. Knowing that I will be out on maternity leave in a few months, this is one more item on my to-do list that’s contributing to my sleepless nights.
So for the last few weeks I have spent a portion of my day reading through resumes and scheduling interviews. Resume reading tends to fall into two categories: boring and completely ridiculous. I had forgotten all those overly positive, yet extremely vague ways of describing what a great asset (hee hee, begins with ass) you would be to such-and-such organization. As I read resumes and divide them into three piles: good, possible, and no way in hell, it reminds me of when J and I first moved to Nashville. We had been stuffing dollar bills in a large Mason jar for months. I think we had something shy of $2,000 when we decided that was plenty of money to move.
We came up to Nashville for one night, stayed at the Holiday Inn on West End across from Centennial Park and signed a one year lease. Then we went back to Florence, rented a U-Haul and packed up our stuff. Our stuff consisted of a hodge podge of used furniture which had been given to us from friends and family. Our couch was actually forced on us by J's roommate since bong water had been split on it on more than one occasion and in those days there was no such thing as Febreeze.
Not everyone in our family was pleased with our decision to move off to a city where we knew no one and live together out of wedlock, but we were young, in love and willing to take a chance. We bought the Tennessean and went through the want ads daily. Our job requirements consisted of the following: nothing in the foodservice business, we were tired of working crazy hours and long weekends, must have benefits, and we didn't want to be working for a company that went against our values.
We did what all young twenty something’s do in order to become a member of the working class. We went to Men's Warehouse and bought Jason a suit for interviews. This is still the only suit he has every purchased and we have gotten our monies worth by all the weddings we have attended over the years. It is a bit snug around the waist now, but he still wears it.
We spent afternoons in job placement agencies being tested on our computer skills and spouting off to big haired women who looked like they were more concerned about their next smoke break then getting us a great gig, about our hopes and dreams and ideal work conditions. We were two people with Bachelor of Arts degrees with no idea what we wanted to do. We were sent on all kinds of temporary jobs.
We made some funny missteps along the way. One morning we headed out optimistic about a job possibility for J. We were sharing a car at the time so I went with him. As we were heading downtown I asked J to give me the address so I could check out the map while driving. (These truly were hard times. We didn't even have a computer so there was no Map quest. We had to read maps. Updating our resume or emailing it to a prospect meant using our local library. I know for the young today this is hard to imagine).
As J read off the address "PO Box...", I stopped and stared at him. Then with a raised eyebrow I said, "So our new job tactic is stalking a potential employer at the local post office when they come in to pick up the mail"? Oh these were funny times. We laughed ourselves silly and did what any other broke, new to a city, couple would do. We went to a local sushi restaurant for lunch and charged a meal we couldn't afford.
With all the bumps along the road and the constant insecurities then about how we were going to make it, we did. I look back at those times and remember how hungry we were to achieve something together. How even though the smallest things could break the bank, we were happy, crazy happy really and in some ways a lot less stressed than today.
As I am sitting across from potential employees during the interviews I am looking for those same traits I possessed ten years ago. The hungry to please look. The I really need a job look. The just give me a chance and you won't be sorry look. The this is the only suit I have, what will I wear for a second interview look.
They look back at me confidently and ask me what types of advancement is available, do we offer flexible work time, and what is the pay. Things have most definitely changed, but I wouldn't trade that time in my life for anything. We got to where we are today together and it still provides us with a chuckle every now and then. Some of the best memories truly rise up from some of the toughest times.
So for the last few weeks I have spent a portion of my day reading through resumes and scheduling interviews. Resume reading tends to fall into two categories: boring and completely ridiculous. I had forgotten all those overly positive, yet extremely vague ways of describing what a great asset (hee hee, begins with ass) you would be to such-and-such organization. As I read resumes and divide them into three piles: good, possible, and no way in hell, it reminds me of when J and I first moved to Nashville. We had been stuffing dollar bills in a large Mason jar for months. I think we had something shy of $2,000 when we decided that was plenty of money to move.
We came up to Nashville for one night, stayed at the Holiday Inn on West End across from Centennial Park and signed a one year lease. Then we went back to Florence, rented a U-Haul and packed up our stuff. Our stuff consisted of a hodge podge of used furniture which had been given to us from friends and family. Our couch was actually forced on us by J's roommate since bong water had been split on it on more than one occasion and in those days there was no such thing as Febreeze.
Not everyone in our family was pleased with our decision to move off to a city where we knew no one and live together out of wedlock, but we were young, in love and willing to take a chance. We bought the Tennessean and went through the want ads daily. Our job requirements consisted of the following: nothing in the foodservice business, we were tired of working crazy hours and long weekends, must have benefits, and we didn't want to be working for a company that went against our values.
We did what all young twenty something’s do in order to become a member of the working class. We went to Men's Warehouse and bought Jason a suit for interviews. This is still the only suit he has every purchased and we have gotten our monies worth by all the weddings we have attended over the years. It is a bit snug around the waist now, but he still wears it.
We spent afternoons in job placement agencies being tested on our computer skills and spouting off to big haired women who looked like they were more concerned about their next smoke break then getting us a great gig, about our hopes and dreams and ideal work conditions. We were two people with Bachelor of Arts degrees with no idea what we wanted to do. We were sent on all kinds of temporary jobs.
We made some funny missteps along the way. One morning we headed out optimistic about a job possibility for J. We were sharing a car at the time so I went with him. As we were heading downtown I asked J to give me the address so I could check out the map while driving. (These truly were hard times. We didn't even have a computer so there was no Map quest. We had to read maps. Updating our resume or emailing it to a prospect meant using our local library. I know for the young today this is hard to imagine).
As J read off the address "PO Box...", I stopped and stared at him. Then with a raised eyebrow I said, "So our new job tactic is stalking a potential employer at the local post office when they come in to pick up the mail"? Oh these were funny times. We laughed ourselves silly and did what any other broke, new to a city, couple would do. We went to a local sushi restaurant for lunch and charged a meal we couldn't afford.
With all the bumps along the road and the constant insecurities then about how we were going to make it, we did. I look back at those times and remember how hungry we were to achieve something together. How even though the smallest things could break the bank, we were happy, crazy happy really and in some ways a lot less stressed than today.
As I am sitting across from potential employees during the interviews I am looking for those same traits I possessed ten years ago. The hungry to please look. The I really need a job look. The just give me a chance and you won't be sorry look. The this is the only suit I have, what will I wear for a second interview look.
They look back at me confidently and ask me what types of advancement is available, do we offer flexible work time, and what is the pay. Things have most definitely changed, but I wouldn't trade that time in my life for anything. We got to where we are today together and it still provides us with a chuckle every now and then. Some of the best memories truly rise up from some of the toughest times.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Hail to the new year
What a blur the last few weeks of December were. Getting everything accomplished on the never ending list of things that must be done didn't seem possible, but in the end Christmas cards were mailed, gifts were bought and wrapped and after all the flurry we did have time to enjoy the holidays.
The holidays were spent driving from one small town in Alabama to the next. Sleeping in uncomfortable beds and eating all kinds of things I shouldn't even speak of. When you are pregnant there are more painful signs that you have gotten off your normal diet than gaining a few extra pounds. Like swollen hands and feet and having to drink some powdered fiber substance until you feel like your stomach might explode in order to clean the pipes. But we did have a nice visit with our families, with a few moments of crazy thrown in just to spice things up.
For New Years we headed to Atlanta to visit my college roommates, their husbands and kids. Seeing your long time friends with their little ones is something that is difficult to explain, but once you are expecting a baby of your own it is even more eye opening. Things that I learned while spending two days in a house with toddlers: 1. No sleeping past 6:30. It doesn't matter that the room you are sleeping in is downstairs. Little ones are LOUD. 2. To parents of little ones, 6:30 isn't that early to begin with. On New Years Day we all found ourselves at the Georgia Aquarium at 8am. Keep in mind it takes 45 minutes to get to the aquarium from their house. But getting there had its advantages. There were no lines and we actually got to the enjoy the aquarium almost completely by ourselves.
So the holidays have passed. At least on the calendar, we still have a tree to take down and Christmas gifts to put up. Hopefully that will get done today. Our cats are going to miss sitting under the lit tree and pulling the ornaments off.
As for us, well we have officially entered the year in which roo will arrive. Now it seems there is another mad dash of preparation that must occur. Guest room that must be turned into a nursery, books that must be finished in preparation of the birth, and work which must be accomplished before taking time off. Overwhelming at times, most definitely, but at the same time I have never been one that accomplished anything without a deadline. And this deadline has by far the greatest reward at the end.
The holidays were spent driving from one small town in Alabama to the next. Sleeping in uncomfortable beds and eating all kinds of things I shouldn't even speak of. When you are pregnant there are more painful signs that you have gotten off your normal diet than gaining a few extra pounds. Like swollen hands and feet and having to drink some powdered fiber substance until you feel like your stomach might explode in order to clean the pipes. But we did have a nice visit with our families, with a few moments of crazy thrown in just to spice things up.
For New Years we headed to Atlanta to visit my college roommates, their husbands and kids. Seeing your long time friends with their little ones is something that is difficult to explain, but once you are expecting a baby of your own it is even more eye opening. Things that I learned while spending two days in a house with toddlers: 1. No sleeping past 6:30. It doesn't matter that the room you are sleeping in is downstairs. Little ones are LOUD. 2. To parents of little ones, 6:30 isn't that early to begin with. On New Years Day we all found ourselves at the Georgia Aquarium at 8am. Keep in mind it takes 45 minutes to get to the aquarium from their house. But getting there had its advantages. There were no lines and we actually got to the enjoy the aquarium almost completely by ourselves.
So the holidays have passed. At least on the calendar, we still have a tree to take down and Christmas gifts to put up. Hopefully that will get done today. Our cats are going to miss sitting under the lit tree and pulling the ornaments off.
As for us, well we have officially entered the year in which roo will arrive. Now it seems there is another mad dash of preparation that must occur. Guest room that must be turned into a nursery, books that must be finished in preparation of the birth, and work which must be accomplished before taking time off. Overwhelming at times, most definitely, but at the same time I have never been one that accomplished anything without a deadline. And this deadline has by far the greatest reward at the end.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Yesterday J and I went to the doctor's office to have a ultrasound to find out the sex of the baby. It had been almost 8 weeks since my last ultrasound. Because I have not felt roo moving around yet in the womb, it is reassuring and amazing to see the little one on a screen floating around inside of me.
We get to the office and Julie calls us back and says that she will be doing our ultrasound. Once I am undressed and laying on the table, Julie squeezes some warm gel-like substance onto my belly. Then she gets the magic wand out and starts rubbing it along my stomach. Immediately roo comes into view. There are moments when you are looking at the image of the baby on the screen when you know what you are looking at. Oh that is their profile, there goes a hand, there is the spine. But other times it looks like you are looking at some strange moving virus under a microscope.
After checking the four chambers of the heart, the length of the arms and legs, and the bladder (which took a while for Julie to find because apparently the baby had just peed so when the bladder is empty it is very difficult to see) Julie asked us the question we had been speculating about for the last 5 months.
Julie: Well do you have any ideas of what the baby might be?
Me: No not really.
I say this, but in all honesty, the only item I have purchased for roo is a pair of super cute striped baby legs that I was storing in my bedside table. When I had tried to explain this item to some friends of ours, they were convinced that I had purchased a pair of thigh high stockings for the little one. When I showed J the baby legs, his only response was that our son wouldn't be wearing leg warmers. Of course, I had not bought them for a son.
J's response to Julie: I think it's a boy.
Julie: Well you're right.
I struggle to get a better look at what is making Julie so sure that our den will soon be full of trains and trucks versus baby dolls.
Me: Are you sure?
Julie: Honey I'm so sure, if I'm wrong, I will personally come to your house and repaint your nursery.
Me: I won't forget you said that.
I get off the table, rub the now cold goop from my belly, and get dressed. J and I are both giddy, grinning from ear to ear thinking of what it will be like to have a son. As we leave the office Julie hands us a VHS tape and pictures from the ultrasound. Later at work as I am going through the pictures, I finally see what made Julie so sure of herself. One of the pictures, which has the word boy written on it, with an arrow pointing directly at his penis is clear as day.
When I call my Mom to tell her the news, she is ecstatic and we are both giggling silly when she says
Mom: Well we need more good men in the world.
My side of the family is mostly women. This will be new territory for us and we couldn't be happier.
We get to the office and Julie calls us back and says that she will be doing our ultrasound. Once I am undressed and laying on the table, Julie squeezes some warm gel-like substance onto my belly. Then she gets the magic wand out and starts rubbing it along my stomach. Immediately roo comes into view. There are moments when you are looking at the image of the baby on the screen when you know what you are looking at. Oh that is their profile, there goes a hand, there is the spine. But other times it looks like you are looking at some strange moving virus under a microscope.
After checking the four chambers of the heart, the length of the arms and legs, and the bladder (which took a while for Julie to find because apparently the baby had just peed so when the bladder is empty it is very difficult to see) Julie asked us the question we had been speculating about for the last 5 months.
Julie: Well do you have any ideas of what the baby might be?
Me: No not really.
I say this, but in all honesty, the only item I have purchased for roo is a pair of super cute striped baby legs that I was storing in my bedside table. When I had tried to explain this item to some friends of ours, they were convinced that I had purchased a pair of thigh high stockings for the little one. When I showed J the baby legs, his only response was that our son wouldn't be wearing leg warmers. Of course, I had not bought them for a son.
J's response to Julie: I think it's a boy.
Julie: Well you're right.
I struggle to get a better look at what is making Julie so sure that our den will soon be full of trains and trucks versus baby dolls.
Me: Are you sure?
Julie: Honey I'm so sure, if I'm wrong, I will personally come to your house and repaint your nursery.
Me: I won't forget you said that.
I get off the table, rub the now cold goop from my belly, and get dressed. J and I are both giddy, grinning from ear to ear thinking of what it will be like to have a son. As we leave the office Julie hands us a VHS tape and pictures from the ultrasound. Later at work as I am going through the pictures, I finally see what made Julie so sure of herself. One of the pictures, which has the word boy written on it, with an arrow pointing directly at his penis is clear as day.
When I call my Mom to tell her the news, she is ecstatic and we are both giggling silly when she says
Mom: Well we need more good men in the world.
My side of the family is mostly women. This will be new territory for us and we couldn't be happier.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
2 + 1 = 3
Over the past few weeks I keep having the same dream.
It starts out normal enough. J and I are hanging around the house when the UPS truck stops at the end of the driveway. We watch as the UPS man unloads a LARGE wooden box and rolls it up the driveway. We go to the back door to see what it is and he asks for our signature, which he tells us is necessary when delivering a live animal.
Me: What kind of live animal?
UPS man, just as calm as can be: A kangaroo.
Me: A baby kangaroo? (Because in my dream for some reason this seems logical)
UPS man: No. A full grown kangaroo.
As he walks off down the driveway J and I stare at the box and back at each other. We struggle getting the box in the house because what else can you do when a kangaroo arrives on your doorstep? I take a peep in one of the air holes but it is too dark to see anything.
We decide to open the box to get a better look and see if this is just a big joke. Once we get the box open we see a full grown kangaroo looking back at us. Slowly the kangaroo steps out into our house. He or she, I do not know the animal that well yet, heads to a corner of the room where it calmly looks around.
Immediately all kinds of thoughts rush through my mind.
How will the kangaroo hop when we live in a ranch house with low ceilings?
What does a kangaroo eat?
When and how does it sleep?
I am quite certain our pet sitter, will draw the line at caring for two cats and a kangaroo.
With all these questions running through my head, I start to panic. And like most dreams when things get uncomfortable, I wake myself up.
So later at work I Google kangaroos and dreams. From the Dreammoods Dictionary, it says, “To see a kangaroo in your dreams, refers to maternal and paternal protection. You may be expressing your nurturing and mothering nature.”
Google never ceases to amaze and inform me. Of course there were other interpretations referencing a kangaroo showing up in your dreams, but they were not as applicable as that one. Dream interpretations are like reading your horoscope. Just pick the one that suits you.
I do hope I am expressing and exploring my nurturing nature, since we have a “roo” of our own on the way. I am 18 weeks pregnant and totally consumed with all sorts of questions of what the future holds.
It starts out normal enough. J and I are hanging around the house when the UPS truck stops at the end of the driveway. We watch as the UPS man unloads a LARGE wooden box and rolls it up the driveway. We go to the back door to see what it is and he asks for our signature, which he tells us is necessary when delivering a live animal.
Me: What kind of live animal?
UPS man, just as calm as can be: A kangaroo.
Me: A baby kangaroo? (Because in my dream for some reason this seems logical)
UPS man: No. A full grown kangaroo.
As he walks off down the driveway J and I stare at the box and back at each other. We struggle getting the box in the house because what else can you do when a kangaroo arrives on your doorstep? I take a peep in one of the air holes but it is too dark to see anything.
We decide to open the box to get a better look and see if this is just a big joke. Once we get the box open we see a full grown kangaroo looking back at us. Slowly the kangaroo steps out into our house. He or she, I do not know the animal that well yet, heads to a corner of the room where it calmly looks around.
Immediately all kinds of thoughts rush through my mind.
How will the kangaroo hop when we live in a ranch house with low ceilings?
What does a kangaroo eat?
When and how does it sleep?
I am quite certain our pet sitter, will draw the line at caring for two cats and a kangaroo.
With all these questions running through my head, I start to panic. And like most dreams when things get uncomfortable, I wake myself up.
So later at work I Google kangaroos and dreams. From the Dreammoods Dictionary, it says, “To see a kangaroo in your dreams, refers to maternal and paternal protection. You may be expressing your nurturing and mothering nature.”
Google never ceases to amaze and inform me. Of course there were other interpretations referencing a kangaroo showing up in your dreams, but they were not as applicable as that one. Dream interpretations are like reading your horoscope. Just pick the one that suits you.
I do hope I am expressing and exploring my nurturing nature, since we have a “roo” of our own on the way. I am 18 weeks pregnant and totally consumed with all sorts of questions of what the future holds.
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