Heat in excess of 90 degrees, in combination with several minutes away from proper air-conditioning may lead to the following repercussions:
whimpering
feeling "wilted"
"sour pus"
yelling at your mother
crying and calling yourself bad things
crashing and sleeping with your glasses on for 2 hours once inside
fighting with your sister
eating ice cream
saying you're sorry
STAY INSIDE.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Saturday, June 16, 2012
A well-balanced meal
Cherry Coke
This really happened, I ate it all at the same time, and it was delicious. Much better than morning sickness. Not my healthiest, but I worked really hard at yoga the other day so--oh well.
Pets vs. Kids
I don't think I've mentioned this yet, but aside from the one I'm carrying, I also have another son.
I dare say, he's a little small for his age. This is Dr. Pecan, my pet turtle.
I took him outside in our new back yard the other day, and after I proceeded to encourage him to play and explore the yard while he looked at me inquisitively, I started contemplating differences and similarities between how we behave around, treat and care for pet animals, opposed to human children.
What I came up with was rather startling.
I Talk to him
I sing to him
I play games with him (make faces and really fast paddling motions)
I try to guess what he's thinking
I can "tell" when he's "smiling"
I (and Frank) make sure he's clean and fed and the proper temperature
I hope that he loves me
Try to get him to eat new vegetables
I go to the store to buy him new things for his room (/tank)
I get excited when he does something new
I leave a nightlight on for him
I send pictures of him to my family
I project my hopes for his future onto him (note the title--he's going to Hopkins)
I DREAD anything bad happening to him
I love him!
In light of this list, I have to concede that minus the anatomical implications, and the fact that they speak your language eventually, kids are in a weird way, kind of like pets--at least on paper. Just more expensive, harder to feed, less-highly trainable and containable pets.
And think about how we process baby animals...
You're SO excited to get one
and it's SO CUTE
and you wonder how big it will get
and EVERYONE wants to see it
and you're afraid to let anyone touch it (but you do)
and you take a million pictures of it
and you get to give it a name, which you may have picked out before, or may have waited to choose
and you prepare a special space for it
and then it gets here...
and you LOVE it,
and you try feeding it and taking care of it
and you freak out when you're not sure if it's "supposed to do that"
and it makes noise in the middle of the night
and you have to clean up some unexpected mess it makes
and it feels like a lot of work
and you learn all of its little habits and likes and dislikes
and you decide to keep it forever
and in no time at all you can't imagine being without it
Kind of weird, right? And also very exciting, because if I love my turtle as much as I do, I bet I'm going to gush and cry daily over how much I love my flesh and warm-blooded son. I can't WAIT.
I took him outside in our new back yard the other day, and after I proceeded to encourage him to play and explore the yard while he looked at me inquisitively, I started contemplating differences and similarities between how we behave around, treat and care for pet animals, opposed to human children.
What I came up with was rather startling.
I Talk to him
I sing to him
I play games with him (make faces and really fast paddling motions)
I try to guess what he's thinking
I can "tell" when he's "smiling"
I (and Frank) make sure he's clean and fed and the proper temperature
I hope that he loves me
Try to get him to eat new vegetables
I go to the store to buy him new things for his room (/tank)
I get excited when he does something new
I leave a nightlight on for him
I send pictures of him to my family
I project my hopes for his future onto him (note the title--he's going to Hopkins)
I DREAD anything bad happening to him
I love him!
In light of this list, I have to concede that minus the anatomical implications, and the fact that they speak your language eventually, kids are in a weird way, kind of like pets--at least on paper. Just more expensive, harder to feed, less-highly trainable and containable pets.
And think about how we process baby animals...
You're SO excited to get one
and it's SO CUTE
and you wonder how big it will get
and EVERYONE wants to see it
and you're afraid to let anyone touch it (but you do)
and you take a million pictures of it
and you get to give it a name, which you may have picked out before, or may have waited to choose
and you prepare a special space for it
and then it gets here...
and you LOVE it,
and you try feeding it and taking care of it
and you freak out when you're not sure if it's "supposed to do that"
and it makes noise in the middle of the night
and you have to clean up some unexpected mess it makes
and it feels like a lot of work
and you learn all of its little habits and likes and dislikes
and you decide to keep it forever
and in no time at all you can't imagine being without it
Kind of weird, right? And also very exciting, because if I love my turtle as much as I do, I bet I'm going to gush and cry daily over how much I love my flesh and warm-blooded son. I can't WAIT.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Suspenders!
WANT
You may purchase it for me if you must.
it's only 100 dollars. ACK! I LOVE IT!
Cheesecake Emergency
I'm sitting home by myself, on a day when Frank is usually off from work. He is covering for a co-worker today, but will have a short day compared to most. It's almost time for the "I'm on my way home" call, when I get the "I'm gonna have a beer with my buddy" text instead. HUMPH.
Now I'm not the type to hoard my husband all to myself--usually. It's not so much a matter of jealousy in terms of shared time with man-friends--today I am feeling another form of jealousy. I literally can't go out and chill on a drink or two with my friends. As cool as I am with going out with people at bars and stuff, I think I'd have a hard time initiating it.
"Hey you wanna go out for happy hour and drink club soda? I mean, you don't have to drink club soda, but, heh, you know--I'll be drinking club soda. You don't have to feel weird, drink all the beer you want...oh you're busy? Dang. Maybe another time."
So I gave Frank the "cool, have fun" return text, and began to pout. I wanna go have a beer with MY friend. I was hit with an unearthly urge to escape the confines of the house.
Well, since I can't get a beer, I'll go to the Cheesecake Factory, and I'll eat a WHOLE piece of cheesecake, and then talk about how good it was, but very casually, like it was no big deal.
I looked around for my keys, planning on calling my friend Natalie on the way out the door, when I remembered something that RUINED EVERYTHING. NOOO-HO-HOOOOOO
I flung my flip-flips at the wall in fury, and ploped heavily back on my bed with my arms crossed.
I text Natalie instead, knowing I'll sound weirdly angry if I try to verbally ask her to go out.
Car: Wanna get cheesecake with me?
Nat: Haha sure! Where?
Car: Cheesecake factory in Columbia
I'll buy you whatever you want if you come pick me up
the keys to my car are in Frank's cupholder.. in baltimore
And he's having a beer with someone and I can't do that so I want to have a cheesecake with MY friend
Natalie has another chuckle, and graciously agrees to show up after her current load of laundry. We had a lovely time, and had some lovely cheesecake.
Now I'm not the type to hoard my husband all to myself--usually. It's not so much a matter of jealousy in terms of shared time with man-friends--today I am feeling another form of jealousy. I literally can't go out and chill on a drink or two with my friends. As cool as I am with going out with people at bars and stuff, I think I'd have a hard time initiating it.
"Hey you wanna go out for happy hour and drink club soda? I mean, you don't have to drink club soda, but, heh, you know--I'll be drinking club soda. You don't have to feel weird, drink all the beer you want...oh you're busy? Dang. Maybe another time."
So I gave Frank the "cool, have fun" return text, and began to pout. I wanna go have a beer with MY friend. I was hit with an unearthly urge to escape the confines of the house.
Well, since I can't get a beer, I'll go to the Cheesecake Factory, and I'll eat a WHOLE piece of cheesecake, and then talk about how good it was, but very casually, like it was no big deal.
I looked around for my keys, planning on calling my friend Natalie on the way out the door, when I remembered something that RUINED EVERYTHING. NOOO-HO-HOOOOOO
I flung my flip-flips at the wall in fury, and ploped heavily back on my bed with my arms crossed.
I text Natalie instead, knowing I'll sound weirdly angry if I try to verbally ask her to go out.
Car: Wanna get cheesecake with me?
Nat: Haha sure! Where?
Car: Cheesecake factory in Columbia
I'll buy you whatever you want if you come pick me up
the keys to my car are in Frank's cupholder.. in baltimore
And he's having a beer with someone and I can't do that so I want to have a cheesecake with MY friend
Natalie has another chuckle, and graciously agrees to show up after her current load of laundry. We had a lovely time, and had some lovely cheesecake.
I personally had some Godiva chocolate cheesecake, which I was too focused on eating to remember that I would post about it later. It looked way better at the beginning. But either way, great decision. Worth bumming a ride and picking up the tab. Thanks Nat!! :)
Sunday, June 10, 2012
I called it first.
I wrote a rather unforgiving review of What to Expect When You're Expecting (the movie).
Maybe what really is at the root of this scathing review, is the part where some screenwriters sat in a room somewhere, and barfed up a few baby names for the end of their precious cash-cow like it was no big deal. Well, I officially threw in the towel on this movie when they used OUR name for one of the characters' babies. While everyone else was in tears over the happy ending, I almost cried from sheer rage (but didn't want to start, because it would surely have continued for 45 minutes).
If one person hears my son's name and says, "aww, just like the end of that movie", they're going to get a broken nose. You've all been warned. We've had our name picked out for MONTHS, and you know it.
And if you think YOU'RE gonna name your kid Theo, and think YOU'RE original because you saw it in that cute little movie, well file your restraining order now.
Do you know how HARD it is to find a name that's awesome, but not trendy? About as hard as it is to keep people out of stupid, poorly-written, star-studded blockbusters.
We thought long and hard about a name that would be classic and becoming for a child and and an adult, something a bit off-beat--good to yell when a kid is in trouble at age 8, or say sweetly while they wiggle happily on the floor at 8 months. JUST LET ME HAVE THIS ONE THING AMERICA.
ONE THING.
Maybe what really is at the root of this scathing review, is the part where some screenwriters sat in a room somewhere, and barfed up a few baby names for the end of their precious cash-cow like it was no big deal. Well, I officially threw in the towel on this movie when they used OUR name for one of the characters' babies. While everyone else was in tears over the happy ending, I almost cried from sheer rage (but didn't want to start, because it would surely have continued for 45 minutes).
If one person hears my son's name and says, "aww, just like the end of that movie", they're going to get a broken nose. You've all been warned. We've had our name picked out for MONTHS, and you know it.
And if you think YOU'RE gonna name your kid Theo, and think YOU'RE original because you saw it in that cute little movie, well file your restraining order now.
Do you know how HARD it is to find a name that's awesome, but not trendy? About as hard as it is to keep people out of stupid, poorly-written, star-studded blockbusters.
We thought long and hard about a name that would be classic and becoming for a child and and an adult, something a bit off-beat--good to yell when a kid is in trouble at age 8, or say sweetly while they wiggle happily on the floor at 8 months. JUST LET ME HAVE THIS ONE THING AMERICA.
ONE THING.
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