The Anniversary Project: It's not a good party until the cops show up (Or, the worst possible wedding do-over you could imagine)

Yesterday, my Seaster renewed her vows to her husband Ron, on the beach, surrounded by their four children and their family and friends, in a touching ceremony that couldn't begin until the police arrived.

You see, JP, a sleeping Flybaby and I arrived at the beach about a half-hour before the big event was supposed to happen. JP decided to pull up to the beach pavilion and let me out so I could assemble the two-tiered cake (one tier of which I had been holding on my lap during the drive) and unhand Seaster's bouquet as well.

In my eagerness to see what impression this beautiful cake would have on everyone, I didn't even notice what was going on until a strange woman clad in a swimsuit and a beach towel snapped at me, "Don't touch my stuff!" I had just set the cake down on a picnic table, and I realized there were about a dozen people having a party there. In our pavilion. The one I rented about two months ago.

My mother, whom I'd barely said hello to in the name of trying to finish up the cake and help JP find a place to park (remember the seafood festival going on, making parking scarce?), told me the other group of people wouldn't leave.

Me: But we have a permit. The sign. You put the sign up in the morning, didn't you?
Mother: No. Mick was going to do it this morning, but when he saw a party going on here already, he decided he'd just come back later.
Me: Oh, no! I told Seaster the permit had to be up in the morning so people knew they had to leave by the time listed on the permit!
Mother: Mick didn't want to be rude.

I look over at Mick, who's Seaster's best friend (think Will & Grace), who was at that moment on the phone calling the city parks & rec to tell them about the pavilion squatters.

Even JP tried to be helpful.

JP: I'm sorry to interrupt, but we have rented this pavilion for a renewal of vows, and --
Irate Woman: This is a public beach! We don't have to leave!

Irate Woman refused to do anything unless, she said, the police came.

So Mick then called the police.

Meanwhile, none of the decorating that my mother had planned on doing two hours beforehand had been done.

I ended up moving my precious baked confection to one side seat of the picnic bench, which is all that the other partygoers would allow for the party food, decorations, etc.

My cake. On the seat of a picnic bench.

I went back to our car, which wasn't supposed to be parked where it was, where Fly was still asleep, and say hello to some more of my Seaster's family who were arriving.

A police officer showed up and spoke with Irate Woman.

Irate Woman: You're going to break up the birthday party of a little 6-year-old boy!
Officer: Your party has been going on for more than six hours!

The other family begrudgingly packed up their things -- leaving lots of wet sand on the floor of the pavilion -- and my mother and Seaster's sons hurriedly tried to decorate.

I think my nephews (24, 22 and 17) must have moved the table where my cake was about five times. One of those times, the cake fell apart. Before I got a picture. Before Seaster arrived. My cake, my piece de beautiful baked goodery, was ruined!

Then my mother announced quietly she couldn't find the rings she was going to surprise the happy couple with.

The minister stood by, cautiously watching this drama unfold and perhaps noting how late we were in starting this shindig, while I tended to Flybaby. My mother complained about the volume of the music coming from the seafood festival.

After the picnic tables were finally in the right places, the ballons were up, the tulle wrapped around the columns and the rings found in my mother's rental car, the minister put on his robe and gathered everyone around.

Now nothing else mattered except Seaster and Ron. I noticed for the first time the cool breeze coming in from the ocean, the amazingly blue sky and the ability of Seaster's eyes to actually look softened and moist. Their three sons and daughter -- minus their son who died when he was around 8 -- looking on. The proud look on my mother's face as her daughter celebrated 25 years of marriage.

And I recalled when Seaster and Ron were married. I was only a tween. Seaster and Ron had been going out for a while, and she got pregnant. One afternoon, Seaster, Ron, my mother and stepfather and younger brother (no one from Ron's family) went to the courthouse. My mother insisted I "stand up with" Seaster, like her maid of honor. I thought the whole thing was ridiculous and sulked the whole time. (My teenage tomboy sister! Getting married!) Then we went out to dinner. Seaster and Ron lived with us for the next year.... It was a shaky start for a young couple.

That's why it was so important to Seaster to fulfill her dream wedding this time around. A ceremony on the beach ... something nice to wear ... a real cake (heh!) ... a bouquet ... a minister.

This was the wedding she never had.

Their ill son who died and many other trials could have pulled them apart. But Seaster and Ron have stayed strong and faithful.

And now they are wearing new silver rings as a reminder of their silver wedding anniversary.

And I got to be a part of that.

Shower me, baby!

There is an amazing baby shower going on right now for Liz of Mom-101, Christina of A Mommy Story, and Tammie of Soul Gardening -- visit right now for all the fun they're having! Send these lucky mamas some love....

Every shower has games with prizes, and this shower is no exception. In fact, see if you can guess which baby photo is mine! I'm not giving you any hints. But here is a photo of me.

Taking part in this shower, I'm supposed to share the best advice I have been given about parenthood and also, ahem, the best assvice.

Except I feel like a loser because I am trying so hard to come up with the assvice.

Sure, people have wacky ideas about parenting. And they love to tell you what you should do. Grandmas in the supermarket tell you your baby isn't dressed warmly enough and that he's cold -- when it's 80 degrees outside. Flybaby's own grandma wonders how come I haven't fed him table food yet -- what, not even eggs? I bet he'd like eggs -- when I'm just concerned about my infant Heimlich maneuver skills. There was also the time his other grandma suggested we could resolve his acid reflux problems by giving him formula with a specific bottle recommended by her friend, whose daughter-in-law's cousin's baby found to be nothing short of a miracle -- despite the fact I breastfeed Fly. (Oh, and at Easter, we found this bottle new in its packaging hiding in a back bedroom, probably waiting to be secretly used the next time grandma gets to babysit.) There's the old rice-cereal-in-a-bottle trick that people love to thrust on you. The whiskey-on-the-gums aid when your baby is teething. But fortunately, despite my slight annoyance with all of this assvice, nothing has harmed Flybaby. And that's what counts.

As far as the best advice I've gotten, well, that's a lot easier.

About three years before JP and I even thought about having a child, our friends had a baby. When he was about three months old, they visited us, and we got to see their beautiful boy for the first time. Right away, he needed a diaper change. My girlfriend Jan and I went to a quiet room to change him. As she was sitting with him, Jan spouted poetic words about what it meant to be a mother -- poetry I didn't understand: her baby was the pinnacle of God's creation; the sun rose and set around him; no mother had ever loved a baby more than she did hers; this little three-month-old boy was a genius who would someday save the universe.

But then she said something I did understand. She told me, "When (when! not if!) you become a mother, people will give you all kinds of advice. Now that I'm a mother, I'm going to give you only one piece of advice: don't listen to anyone else's advice! Your baby is a unique individual, and you know him best as his mother. You have to decide what is right for your baby, so don't listen to anyone else."

Now, I can't say I've been keeping my ears closed, exactly. But when people start telling me what I should do with Fly, I just remember Jan's words.

She's the one with the genius baby, after all, so she should know.

Best wishes, Liz, Christina and Tammie . . . .

The Anniversary Project: Special powers

I have special powers. I can predict things. Like the fact you can't get a Saturday hair appointment in this town if you call on Thursday. My sister said she'd forget about getting her hair styled....

Flybaby also has special powers. He made everyone melt when we went out to lunch with my mother and sister today. My brother and his 12-year-old son came too. Flybaby grabbed the waiter's leg every time he came by. The waiter laughed every time, but I wonder if he was thinking, "Kid, I ain't your daddy!"

My Seaster has special powers for taking nine hours yesterday to find an outfit in which to renew her vows. And it wasn't even a dress, which is what she was on the hunt for.

Let's hope I have special cake powers to finish this cake and make it look pretty....

The Anniversary Project: More surprises

This morning while strapping Flybaby into his carseat for a quick trip to the supermarket, my mother called. She wanted to know how to get to a store where my sister wanted to look for a dress. They were both out and about in their rental car, dress shopping.

Seaster still doesn't have anything to wear.

As I was leaving the supermarket (carrying a baby, my purse and two bags of groceries), I got another call from my mother, who said the first store didn't have anything, and she asked how to get to the mall.

About 15 minutes later, she called back to ask where in the mall was a place called the Dress Barn. As if I'd know.

As I was feeding Fly his lunch, I fielded a call from -- yes! my mother -- on one phone and the minister for this vow renewal on the other.

After telling my mother to call the minister, she asks me,

"Did you make Seaster's hair appointment yet?"

Trying to ward off a migraine, I said, "You didn't tell me to make a hair appointment."

(Conversation ensues about where Seaster will be / should get her hair done.)

Has anyone ever tried to make a Saturday afternoon hair appointment on a Thursday afternoon?

"I'll see what I can do," I told my mother.

The way things have been going for Seaster's vows, I am going to end up styling her hair myself!

What I'd Wear Wednesday

What I'd wear today if I could: these shorts from the Gap. With the days getting warmer, I have been on the hunt for a cool pair of jean shorts. These are called "cricket shorts," but I'm not sure why. Is this the style worn when you play cricket? Do the shorts make you more attractive to crickets? Can you hold a lot of crickets in the pockets?

Anyway, I like how they reach to just above the knee and have the gathers and the pockets there, too. I think these design elements placed near the knees help balance out some wide child-birthin' hips. Or at least draw attention away from them to your knees....

The Anniversary Project: The gang's all here

Well. My mother and sister arrived a day earlier than I thought they said they'd be here.

Along with my sister's husband, half her kids, and two friends.

I was feeding Flybaby his oatmeal this morning when my mother called to say they were all boarding the plane. I was so surprised I almost fed his oatmeal to myself in the confusion.

Now is the perfect to time to heave a big sigh of relief that no one is staying in our home for the weekend.

Ahhhhhh....

My mother and sister prefer to stay near the ocean where they can walk to the beach. For 20 years or so, my mother has been staying at the same little mom-and-pop motel that has miraculously survived the march of the condos upon real estate like that.

But still. I know they will visit at some point. And that means housecleaning.

Do you have a favorite mom-and-pop business?

The Anniversary Project: Too late to change the date now

~Warning: gratuitous picture of cake at the end~

I haven't talked much about my sister's 25th wedding anniversary coming up. Probably because I have been too busy planning it.

I don't know how I ended up planning my sister's renewal of vows. But the realization came about a month ago....


Me: Well, Flybaby and I are going to drive to the beach town today and reserve a beach pavilion for Seaster's Anniversary Project today. I'm waiting for the minister to call me back. Oh, and she wanted me to find a baker for a wedding-style cake and a florist. Then I have to download this song she wants me to sing, and learn it.

JP: And just what is Seaster doing for this Anniversary Project?

Me: Um. I think she's trying to decide what to wear.


That's how it happened. My sister, who loves the ocean (can you tell by the name she actually calls herself?), lives five land-locked states away. But she chose to renew her vows here. Where I live. Where I can do all her bidding much more easily than she can.

She's so sneaky that way, to give me work to do in the name of being practical.

Now it's Anniversary Project Week, and Saturday is the big day. She and our mother are going to be here in two days. Then over the next couple of days, her husband, children and close friends will trickle into town.

She picked the date several months ago, and I reserved this beautiful beach pavilion as early as the beach town would allow me. I chose the pavilion myself and reserved it in my name.

Today, the beach town calls.


BT: Hey, you've got a pavilion on Saturday.

Me: Yes, that's right.

BT: You know the seafood festival will be going on.

Me:

Me: No. I didn't know.

BT: Maybe you want to change the date.

Me:

Me: It's kind of too late for that now.


With trepidation, I e-mailed Seaster this news. Just so she can be prepared for any photographs that have, in the background, people walking around in lobster costumes. Nothing says "I'd spend 25 years of my life with you all over again" like a banner decorated with shrimp.

To date, I haven't practiced Seaster's song. I never found a baker because I decided to make her cake myself. Shouldn't be too hard, what do you think of this picture of what she wants?



Piece of cake.

AAAAaaaaaah!

The anniversary project: Don't mess with a woman's plants! Especially this week!

Dear Darling JP,

Every time I look at my wildflower garden, which you hacked on Saturday night but I didn't see until Sunday morning, I get angry all over again.

I know you're probably rolling your eyes or thinking of a few obscenities right now after my moping and huffing all day yesterday, but I wanted you to know how I feel. I am trying to get over it.

The plumbago bushes so full of lavender flowers have been annihilated to green and brown stumps. The yellow lantana? MIA. Even the firespike that the butterflies love so much got beheaded. Thankfully, the petunias are still there -- way in the back, though. And the recent additions you helped me by planting a couple months ago, well, I couldn't find them, either.

I look at my barren little corner of the yard and wonder, why? What part of "don't whack my garden again" last time did you not understand?

You said you were trying to be helpful. You want the yard to look nice when my family comes in town for my sister's renewal of vows on her 25th wedding anniversary. Some people in the family have never been to our home. I want our place to look great, too -- which includesd our great little garden. Aaargh! Now they will come and see shriveled stumps! Stumps!

When I say I love you, it's true -- I do love you even though I'm still angry. And I may be loving you through gritted teeth right now. But I believe love is a commitment. (So maybe I should be committed.... )

I'll get over it eventually. Maybe when the flowers start growing again.

Love, (See?)

me

You like me. You really, really like me!

Thursday, April 19, 2007 will go down as a day of unbelievability: I have actually won an award! For blogging!



Not only was I bestowed the Thinking Blogger Award for Growing A Life from Banana Migraine, but Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck bestowed the same award to me for Celebrating A Life! On the same day! (And my new blog Celebrating A Life is only one week old. That might be a record.)

Few people accuse of me thinking (mommy brain). In fact, if you ask my mother or stepmother, I’m sure they’d tell you I don’t stop to think enough. So these nominations completely took me by surprise. It’s not like I win awards for my writing all the time. (My book did win an award, but it happened only days after Flybaby was born last year, and I was so busy learning how to be a mama head over heels in love with him that I didn’t even notice I had won the award for two entire weeks.) But if my much-admired Dave Barry can win a Pulitzer Prize for writing booger jokes, then I’ll graciously accept the Thinking Blogger Award.

I am so shocked and honored. Thank you, Amber and Melissa! Now just like those actors and directors wondering what to do with their Oscars, I’m wondering where to put my Thinking Blogger …. Hmm, I know! In the sidebar!

So the drill is that I now have to nominate five bloggers to receive this award.

Trouble is, picking five? Only five?!

Many of the bloggers I’d nominate for the Thinking Blogger Award have already won, and rightfully so. Take these five, for starters:

- Her Bad Mother has already received this award. Her posts are always thoughtful. Sometimes, I have to go look up words in her posts. Other times, I can feel my brain wrinkle while reading her blog. She is one smart blogger.

- Scribbit has won this award. She posts so much that I can barely keep up with reading all her entries. That a lot of writing, folks -- and writing means thinking. She deserves this award for sure especially because she lives in Alaska. Everyone knows how hard it is to think in the cold weather, hee hee!

- Oh the Joys has already received this award too. She has got to be one of the funniest bloggers who also writes at least one post a week that is so sincere and touching that I wish I was part of her family.

- The Space Between My Peers has earned this award already as well, with her practical thoughts on fashion for real women.

- Just Being Me is a new blog to me, and yet she has already touched me with almost every post. She’s touched others, too, so of course she has already been nominated for this award. Keep being yourself!

So for the part you’ve really just scrolled to the bottom of this post to read: I now nominate . . . .

- Baking and Books. Two of my favorite things, together in one blog. It takes a lot of thought to blog about books. But can you really think about baked goods? Absolutely. Ari’s posts include delicious recipes, and she always has a good story that goes with each one. Plus her site design rocks.

- Blooming Yaya. How come she hasn’t already won this award? Her posts are always thought-provoking. I never know what surprising thing she’s going to blog about. I love that!

- Guinevere’s Thoughts on Nothing in Particular. See? The word “thought” is right in the title of my real-life friend Star’s blog. I’m not nominating her for this award because she’s my friend, though. She really does make me think. She’s more than a decade younger than I am and yet most of the time way more mature!

- Dad said Mom said is the perfect format for a parenting blog. The idea alone for a blog like this qualifies it for a Thinking Blogger Award. It’s written by several couples, which is also genius right there. What do moms think? What do dads think? Find out here!

- A two-fer (I have to put them together. I "met" them at the same time. I always think of one right after the other. And I think they might be real-life friends.): My Journey and Interrupted Wanderlust always make me think. Usually, they make me think, “What the . . . ?” Naw, just kidding. These gals are funny and thoughtful and it’s spooky sometimes how we are on the same wavelength at the same time. And that makes you think, doesn’t it?

OK, you winners, now it’s your turn to pick five. Just go ahead and try! It’s harder than you think!

Hairy stuff

My hair has now reached the mid-back point, and I desperately need to get it cut. It's not enough that it takes me 15 minutes to properly wash my hair (15 minutes! which is why I usually shower when Flybaby is in bed for the night), but then I spend another 20 to dry and straighten it. Because my hair is super thick -- I get it thinned a couple times a year -- and hyper-wavy (a term I came up with to describe lots of tiny waves that sometimes actually curl but not always; most people would simply call it curly and be done with it), I feel a need to make it as flat as possible or end up looking like I'm stuck in some wild 1980s-era hair band video.

(Yes, I know about the book Curly Girl and I know about Ouidad. Sometimes I let my hair be free. But leaving it curly requires more maintenance -- more time I don't have -- in the end, and I'd rather straighten it and be done with it.)

To get my hair straight and flat, I start with L'Oreal Vive Pro Smooth Intense products "for dry, rebellious hair that's thick." Yes, it actually says that right on the bottle. Gee, thanks! Then I dry my hair with a large, round brush and my trusty Conair dryer that has a diffuser attachment, until it's almost dry. To finish, I use my Remington Wet2Straight straightener. You can spend $200 on straightening irons, and I'm sure they're worth it, but this works great for me. Sometimes, if I want to feel special, I'll spray Citre Shine Shine Mist Spray Laminator on my hair (and sometimes also in between washings).

You see what I have to go through? That's why I need a cut so badly. It takes too long to straighten this hair of mine. So ... know of any good, current styles, "Mom hair" or otherwise?

What I'd Wear Wednesday

What I'd wear today if I could: this heavenly red dress found in a store window (while carousing with my friend Star and her little Lancelot yesterday to get ice cream from Ben & Jerry's on their free ice cream day!) As you can see, it is in a Valentino store. Make that an outlet store. Even though it is an outlet, I was too chicken poor busy to go inside and check the price. I'm sure I couldn't have afforded it anyway. But a mom can dream.

I did, however, find a wearable Valentino dress online . . .




. . . whose price was around $1,110.

And now that JP and I have started a prepaid college program for Flybaby, well, that dress is worth several payments!

Living because of

"Honor the victims by remembering their lives in the enrichment of our own -- not doing the living for them, because we can't, but living because of them. When I die, that is the best I could hope for of those who remember me: honor the memory of me by living a life rich with life. We can remember the victims by living our lives to the fullest." Read my whole post about the Virginia Tech tragedy here.

PS: Get your own I Celebrate! button by contributing! Contact me at growingalife at gmail dot com.

Little swimmer ... little harpist

Flybaby started swimming classes this weekend!

He got cute little baby swim trunks, and cute little baby rashguards to keep the sunshine off his shoulders!

He got to go into a swimming pool for the first time, and spend time with his dad!

And he cried the whole time!




(Maybe it was because I made him wear a virtual sombrero to cover up his super-white, super-bald head . . . ?)

I'd also like to complain about a newfound parental torture device: swim diapers. Now I know why regular diapers are designed the way they are. Swim diapers, I have just learned, are like stiff underpants. You put one baby leg through a leg hole, and then as you're putting the other leg in, the first leg comes out. So you go back to the first leg, and the second leg is kicking freely. So you try to hold down both legs and ... five minutes later, you just hope your baby doesn't pee in the pool....

On the way to the class, we drove in my car, whose stereo was set to a children's CD that came on automatically after the car started.

JP immediately turned it off.

We have an ongoing debate: should we let Flybaby listen to "children's music," which he truly seems to enjoy, or should we play him "real" music? I am all for encouraging Fly to listen to a variety of music styles, and thanks to family and friends who have given us several "children's music" CDs (mainly Baby Einstein, but others too), he listens to them all the time. Besides the CDs and his iPod playlist, most of Flybaby's toys also play some kind of tune. The babe is surrounded by music.

I think JP is just concerned his son may grow up to be a xylophone player or a harpist....

Because one blog is never enough

"I don't want flowers when I'm dead! I want flowers now. I want life now. I want happiness now. I don't want to live with regrets."

Check out my new blog, Celebrating A Life.

This means you.

Then tell me what a huge dork I am.

Thanks!

31 weeks and counting

Call me silly, but I tell Flybaby that every Thursday is his birthday because he was born on a Thursday. Today, he's 31 weeks old. (Last week, he turned seven months.) Flybaby is also working on teeth 5, 6 and 7 (and possibly 8).



But, why am I counting weeks? Because I'm a mom, I guess.

I suppose being a mom is also the reason for my baby-practical but otherwise pretty useless knowledge.

Example? Gerber veggie puffs are slightly concave, so when you break them in half, it's best to place the concave side out when snapping them, or else they will crumble. And breaking them into smaller pieces helps a 31-week-old baby feed himself said puff.

See this whole puff below?



Completely inedible.

I know the "best" way to put a diaper on him is to have his head on my left and fasten the left side first because he likes to suck on his left foot, and if I leave the left side alone while tending to the right side, I have to wrestle his foot to the changing pad like a baby WWE (hmm, idea for a new TV show?). I know how long Fly can be bathed before I get completely soaked. How to distract him with something new to make him stop crying. Which are his favorite toys.

(However, I don't know how to get the food stains out of five of his cutest shirts and bodysuits, which are languishing in the laundry room at this moment.)

So, what do you know because you're a mom?

In which my bust goes bust

I could be returning from a nice lunch at Olive Garden with a group of cool moms from the Baby And Me class that Flybaby and I go to every Wednesday morning (naptime permitting). But instead, here I sit at my computer with a bowl of couscous and chickpeas while Fly sleeps.

Let me back up a bit. Baby And Me gives me Flybaby the chance to get used to being around other people. We sing songs and learn baby sign language and talk about our babies' development, sharing tips and ideas. Fly also gets to play with toys he doesn't have at home, like the ball pit:



It's fun, and yet it's a little bit like high school*. I feel like I have to make myself and Flybaby look presentable. And there's a group of "cool moms." They're not stuck on themselves. They are friendly with everyone, so they aren't exclusive. But you can just tell there's a trace of a little clique there.

So when the cool moms asked if I'd like to go to lunch after the class, I was like, heck yeah! Except, the cool moms asked me this as I was leaving, early, with a very unhappy Fly wriggling in my arms.

No problem. I'd whisk home, nurse him and zip right on over to Olive Garden, getting there about the same time the other moms probably would.

Except Fly wanted to nurse an exceptionally long time. And he eventually fell asleep. And it was noon already. I didn't know whether to go to the restaurant (and be late) with my sleeping baby, or just let him sleep peacefully at home, and miss out.

This isn't the first time I feel I've missed out on something because Flybaby needed to nurse. I have shared too many times to point to about how clumsy I am at nursing, and how I almost quit, many times, because I was so bad at it. Now, breastfeeding is great, but I still feel awkward, especially in public. Not because I'm afraid of people's stares, but because I just can't get myself and Flybaby comfortable without at least a couple of pillows for support. Fly is a big baby, and yet too young/small to support himself. (He also gets distracted easily while nursing, so it might not even be possible to feed him at a table surrounded by other women and babies!)

And so, I am the dweeb of dweebs, the geek of geeks, the nimrod of nimrods. (Sorry, Oh, the Joys, but I think I just might be more of a dork than you.) I cannot be a cool mom. Which means Flybaby will likely not be a cool kid.

*Yes. That means completely unlike high school, my boobs are my downfall.

This post brought to you from my amygdala. I had a brilliant post to write, but my cerebrum ate it....

What I'd Wear Wednesday

What I'd wear today if I could: this top by French Connection. Even though I try to stay away from wearing blue (I just think most blues aren't my color), I think I could do this pretty robin's-egg blue. Just perfect for spring! It also looks really comfortable without looking sloppy -- which is the look I aim for when I am joining other moms with our babies. Plus, you could probably wear this top with just about anything!

Call me a sadist

• Sadism: (noun) the deriving of pleasure, or the tendency to derive pleasure, from cruelty

Yesterday and today, Flybaby has been such a happy baby. There has been a minimum of fussing. Hardly any crying (at least on my watch). He sits and plays happily. He eats just fine. He smiles when I sing to him. He laughs when I tickle him. He took two two-hour naps yesterday and is working on a repeater right now.

This is such odd behavior that the thought zinged through my head: where's the challenge?

(conversation with myself)

Oh, no, you did not just think that.

Sorry, self, I didn't mean to.

One and a half days of Flybaby being happy, and you already wish he was being tormented by something?

Torment? Who said anything about torment? I'm just ... suspicious.

Or sadistic. Just enjoy it while it lasts. Sheesh....

(conversation over)

- - - - -

So Easter has come and gone -- another holiday that gives our relatives an excuse to give Flybaby gifts. They range from the useful (Baby Gap bodysuits from JP's sister, Sabee) to the nice-to-have (fluffy new blanket from JP's mom, MM) to the downright weird (talking rabbit whose cheeks blink with red lights as he tells the story of Easter from my stepmother, Anne). I would post a photo of this rabbit -- or better yet, a video -- but it truly would be a waste of cyber space. The rabbit itself is really cute and soft. And the Easter story is fine. But the voice of the man telling the story sounds like Edward R. Murrow delivering the news back in the 1950s. Totally not appropriate for a children's Easter bunny toy. I'm hoping for a recall on the toy ... or a way to remove the recording inside....

Your opinions!

I'm working on a top-secret project and am wondering: what are your favorite inspirational/motivational blogs and Web sites?

Details to come....

What I'd Wear Wednesday

What I'd wear today if I could: an outfit from DOTS. Is there a DOTS near you? If so, it's definitely worth a trip. You can't find clothes for less money unless you go to a rummage sale. But before you think "cheap!" just consider all those trendy pieces you don't want to spend a lot of money on because they won't be in style for long. Or in my case today, a quick fix for a get-together at JP's parents' house for Easter because I just realized I have nothing to wear!

I started shopping at DOTS after I got pregnant last year, before I could wear maternity clothes but after most of outfits didn't fit me. Finding fun stuff a couple sizes bigger than usual at such a bargain price was a relief. I thought, "Less money on me = more money on the baby!"

In fact, now that I think about it, Flybaby's Easter outfit actually did cost more than mine....

Wouldn't want to meet these eggs in a dark alley

This morning when I got up with Flybaby, I thought I'd be nice and make JP some hard-boiled eggs, which he loves.

This is what (or who?) greeted me in the fridge:



Unfortunately, many of JP's characters met their untimely death:

I Didn't Get the Memo

I have these moments where it all becomes real to me. Like somehow I am in denial that another child is on his way. I was reading blogs and looking at pictures of kids ... it dawns on me that in like no time at all I will be the mother of CHILDREN. I will be one of THOSE moms. I like to think I am pretty good at this gig. I have my moments for sure, but the Mom thing, I got it. Will two mess with that system? Seriously people I am going to be the mother of TWO kids ... why do I feel like I missed the memo?

Don't get me wrong, I totally get that I am pregnant. I have celebrated this pregnancy with a vengeance. I EARNED this pregnancy through blood, sweat and tears ... oh so many tears ... So pregnant I am ... yet somehow, throughout it all the end was always so far. I mean I have been pregnant for almost NINE months, who would have thought the time would ever come.

Becca was premature, due to me getting uber sick. So far I have showed no signs of the pre-eclampsia returning and if it were to now, we might be able to make to term, given enough rest. In like a week and a few days Becca was born (if we were on the same timeline). That totally FREAKS me out. I think it may be playing on the denial too. I am so not READY for a baby in a week and a half. NOT READY!

I was not emotionally ready for Becca at the time either, but I knew no better so I went with the flow, all worked out, w00t. Dudes I so know this time. I need more TIME. I have plans, lists to complete, laundry, labelling, sewing, knitting, bonding time with Becca, and baking, cooking, cleaning, packing ... I am not READY!

How could I have missed the memo that being pregnant leads to more children? I have given little to no thought about life once Ethan is here. Is that odd? I have thought about labour ... what I hope for and how I plan to prepare, however those thoughts have only just begun to percolate in my mind. I do not even know what floor of hospital the Maternity ward is on! How did I let so much time go by and leave me feeling so under prepared? Where was that MEMO?!?!

We were ready in our environment for Becca. All her clothes were washed, folded and neatly organized. Her car seat was installed ~properly~ and we had a cute, simple nursery set up for her. This time around, I have yet to organize the ever growing collection of clothes we have received for Ethan, nothing is laundered, he doesn't have a room (we plan on keeping him with us till we move so he has a corner of a room), the car seat is jammed in a closet somewhere, I have yet to pack for the hospital or prepare in any shape or form.

I didn't get the Memo ...

Chelle is a Stay at Home Mom, expecting her second baby any minute! Canadian and transplanted to Southern California, her blog Crazy Thoughts by Chelle, is a creative outlet and a connection with home. Keeping it real with her beloved Apple computer, designing blog templates and going on endless adventures with a smart, shy toddler. You can find Damselfly, your amazing blog host, over at Crazy Thoughts by Chelle today.