Bowling Night with the Boys

Before Baby, I was on a bowling league. I'm not a good bowler, but it was fun. Basically, it's a team of three guys and me. Our team name is Nice Balls! even though one of the team members suggested a change pointing out that I do not have any. Like I said, I'm on a team with 3 guys. I sat out the last season to stay away from the smoke, not to mention avoiding lifting a 10 pound bowling ball. However, I did say I would eventually come back. They got a replacement (one who actually can bowl).

Imagine my surprise when the boys didn't forget me and invited me back on the team! The team leader said I got first right of refusal before he asked anybody else. It's not that I'm a good bowler, but I'm dependable. I show up every week and, if I don't, I give a lot of warning to find a replacement. I even went the night I heard Baby's heartbeat (even though I got the worst Evening Sickness imaginable). Still, the boys make me feel really girly and spoil me by paying for my chicken fingers. They only mildly tease me about my Eeyore bowling ball and purple bag, too.

Rehab as an Excuse?

It seems like as soon as a celebrity does something stupid, he or she enters rehab. Don't get me wrong, I think rehab is a great resource for those in need. However, do you need rehab for having a bit too much to drink and saying something you regret? It seems that celebrities are using rehab as a way of getting out of taking personal responsibility for stupidity. I suppose rehab puts the celeb out of the spotlight for 4-6 weeks which is kind of like a time out. However, like a time out, as soon as it is over, he or she is back out socializing and doing ridiculous things.

In general, there is a lot less personal responsibility in the world. We now live in a society that blames everyone and everything else for things that go wrong. Song lyrics, music, movies, television - all influence our lives, but they aren't necessarily to blame for the downward spiral in personal ethics and responsibility. We try, as a society to fix the symptoms but never the problems.

It's enough to drive a person to drink.

Who needs sleep?

See that picture to the left? I have to look at it every so often to remind myself what Baby sleeping looks like because she has decided not to sleep. From her first week, she's slept the majority of the night. She's taken to sleeping 8 hours within the last month. However, once a week, she just wakes up every couple of hours. On top of that, she's become a picky eater. Keep in mind, Baby only gets a couple of things on her menu. She gets breastmilk and formula as a general rule, but when her digestive system is a little slow, she gets a little bit of apple juice, too. Every so often, she refuses to eat formula and spits it as far as it will go. Then, she'll cry because she's hungry. Well, stop spitting your food out! I mean, really. I'm going to have to stop telling people how smart she is if she can't figure out food in her mouth is for swallowing. Unfortunately, when she doesn't sleep, neither do we. I mean, Husband. He gets up with Baby while I sleep. Still, I have sympathy sleepiness for him.

Books read in January 2008

1. Strong and Sexy by Jill Shalvis. (NOTE: This book is book 2. Book 1 is Smart and Sexy.)
2. A Husband of Her Own by Brenda Novak. (NOTE: This book is book 2. Book 1 is A Baby of Her Own and Book 3 is A Family of Her Own.)
3. Snowfall at Willow Lake by Susan Wiggs. (NOTE: This book is book 5 in The Lakeshore Chronicles. Book 1 is Summer at Willow Lake. The unofficial book 2 is "Homecoming Season" in More Than Words. Book 3 is The Winter Lodge. Book 4 is Dockside.)
4. The Baby Gamble by Tara Taylor Quinn. (NOTE: This book is the first in a Harlequin SuperRomance series called Texas Hold 'Em. Book 2 is Betting on Santa by Debra Salonen. Book 3 is Going for Broke by Linda Style. Book 4 is Deal Me In by Cynthia Thomason. Book 5 is Texas Bluff by Linda Warren.)

It was a great month for reading in terms of quality, maybe not in terms of quantity. I was thrilled with all of them. I also started a couple of books, but I never finished them so they'll be making an appearance in months to come.

Someday, My Prince Will Come...

This is actually inspired by the book, Someday My Prince Will Come: True Adventures of a Wannabe Princess. You have to admit that it's a great title. Far be it from me to say there is something wrong with wanting to be a princess or wanting your own prince. However, this is a big pet peeve of mine. Warning: I've always said they may take away my girl card for admitting this, but I never liked the movie, Cinderella. My big pet peeve is waiting for a prince.

Here's the deal, wanting and getting a prince is great. Seriously. A prince of a guy or, if you can get it, a real prince is hard to find. I'm sure it's a lot harder to get if you sit on your pre-princess bottom waiting for one to show up. I always liked it when characters or people find each other.

Further rant: I mean, really, if Cinderella was going to clean a house, why not clean the house of someone who will pay you? I realize it was a zillion years ago and there weren't like child labor laws and you were allowed to beat your kids (let alone what you were allowed to do to stepchildren), but come on! Things can't be working out if you're talking to the animals and your best friends are mice. You'd think if the fairy godmother was looking out for her, she'd be able to bag a prince much easier or even show up earlier... you know, before those poor mice worked their fingers to the bone on a dress that was just ruined. End of rant.

Superbowl XLII - That's 42, right?

The Superbowl is this weekend. Everyone knows that I really couldn't care less about sports of any kind. I only care marginally about athletes and the only thing I care about is how hot they are. That said, I do watch The Superbowl. Even when Husband was out of town, I went to a Superbowl party. I love the commercials. Even during the bad years, I like the commercials. However, I really love the food. Much like Thanksgiving and a lot of other major holidays, the true meaning of why we gather together is lost and it all comes down to food. However, with the big game, the food is all unhealthy and usually involves melted cheese. What's not to love about that?

Sidenote: If we're not Roman, why do we use Roman numerals to denote what number Superbowl we are celebrating? Why can't we just use 42? Eh, maybe it's just because no one asked me what we should do.

Valentine's Day

I hate Valentine's Day. I always have. It may be because I went a lot of my life without a boyfriend, but then I got one. I still hate it. I think it's quite the racket. It's not that I don't think that love shouldn't be celebrated. It should. There are anniversaries or special days. There are ordinary days. Why should we designate one day where everyone needs to have someone to shower with gifts or, worse, remind those who don't have someone that they are alone? Everything is overpriced and each store tries to outdo each other in terms of providing you with the perfect gift for your significant other.

Now, that said, I don't not celebrate Valentine's Day. Living in a house where sports rule and I never get control of the television, I definitely use Valentine's Day to my advantage. However, I refuse to do anything the weekend of the holiday. We'll go out during the week or the weekend before or after to a movie. Some years, we don't do anything at all. I also don't want a gift. Seriously. I appreciate it if I get one, but I never expect one, and it's not a trick. I think the last Valentine's Day gift was from my college roommate's boyfriend. He bought me chocolates. I'm also a big fan of buying myself a Valentine's Day gift. I may buy myself shoes this year. I'll tell Husband he doesn't have to buy me anything and then buy myself shoes. I mean, really, the holiday is to celebrate love. Who loves me more than me?

In case you haven't been paying attention to the news channels, there are Primaries going on. You may have missed yours, but if you haven't, check out when you can vote. Every four years, one Tuesday becomes Super Tuesday! Now, if you're from Virginia, your Primary is February 12. If you're not, you're on your own to find the info. I'm torn because sometimes I don't feel like my vote counts for much, but I do like going to vote and getting my sticker.

Make Yourself at Home

I use this term a lot. "Make yourself at home!" I say to guests. I do mean it when I say it. I do. Then, occasionally, there are guests that just literally make themselves at home. They touch my stuff, go in the fridge, take over the tv, and just move stuff around. I want to say, "stop touching my stuff!" but I kind of already said to make themselves at home. So, I bite my tongue.

There are a few exceptions. One is when someone just lets me know that they're going to be invading my boundaries. For example, someone will ask if they can grab a soda. I'll always say yes. Another is when someone is spending more than one day with me. If someone is staying with me, I do want them to be at home. Plus, I don't want to be waiting hand and foot on anybody. Truthfully, it's more the latter than the former. If someone wakes up before I do (which is more than possible), I want them to grab a bowl of cereal because, if they wait for me it'll be lunch time.

The Daring Book for Girls

The book description says, "The Daring Book for Girls is the manual for everything that girls need to know—and that doesn't mean sewing buttonholes! Whether it's female heroes in history, secret note-passing skills, science projects, friendship bracelets, double dutch, cats cradle, the perfect cartwheel or the eternal mystery of what boys are thinking, this book has it all. But it's not just a guide to giggling at sleepovers—although that's included, of course! Whether readers consider themselves tomboys, girly-girls, or a little bit of both, this book is every girl's invitation to adventure."

If you were to write a manual for girls, what would it contain?

I would want to include the dates of all the sports' seasons and number of games a person has to sit through (it would have been nice to have the warning before living with Husband). I would want a tip calculator with who gets tipped and at what percentage on average. I also want to include how to find out where I should vote and how to find out when my state's primary is (February 12, by the way).

Is This Something Only Men Can Do?

We were watching Friday Night Lights last night. In the episode "Wind Sprints", Coach Taylor goes to Matt Saracen's house. Grandma Saracen gives the coach a piece of cake. In the car, the coach shoves the entire piece of cake in his mouth. I've seen many men do this. Is it an inherent gift that is bestowed upon the male gender or do we have such low expectations when it comes to male table manners that this is something they hone over time? I would never dream of eating cake without a fork, let alone shoving an entire piece in my mouth. Yet one more mystery of the male gender...

I've Had It!

I lost patience. Everyday, I was more and more aggravated. I finally had to stop and get my haircut on the way home. It was all static and falling out. I miss pregnancy hair! Now that the body is getting all back to normal, my hair is getting back to normal, too. So, I just got it cut. I really like it. It'll look better styled, but I can tell already that it's nice and manageable. I attached a photo, but it usually looks better. Most days, I part it on the side and blow dry it under, but last weekend was a bit hectic.

Additionally, when I checked out, the computer system broke, and I couldn't use my credit card. Honestly, who uses cash? So, I had to go to the ATM... which wasn't working! They finally said I could pay them tomorrow if that was ok. I ended up walking to the grocery store and getting cash and, by the time I got back, the computer was working! I treated myself to Starbucks to calm down.

I Thought Vaccinations Were Bad...

a sick baby is worse! Baby has a cold. Unfortunately, I think she got it from me. She has such bad post-nasal drip, a cough and a sneeze. She doesn't have a fever at least. She's been mostly sleeping it off. We keep her on her tummy pillow during the day which makes her throw up a lot of ick and makes her nose drain more ick. Right now, she's sleeping upright in her swing.

We feel so bad because she's so sick, and there's nothing we can do. The squeezie (bulb syringe) is her enemy. She hates it, but it clears her nose so well. It's such a dilemma - does she want to breathe or feel like her brain is being sucked through her nose?

I'm sure this won't last long, and I know she'll forget being sick within minutes of a full recovery. In the meantime, we feel (almost) worse than she does and will never forget her being so sick so quickly. *sniff*

Handprint Hell

I have a special baby book and picture frame in which to showcase Baby's handprint and footprint. Now, disregard the fact that her hands and feet are much bigger than they were at birth. We're just getting around to doing creating this little memento. I have a couple of requirements. I wanted Baby to be relaxed and/or asleep, and I wanted to wait until bath night so she'd be cleaned up afterwards. So, that night was tonight... or so I thought.

So, tonight, Baby fell asleep. I took out all the frame and the baby book and paint. She woke up and started squirming. Of course, this is after I had paint all over her hands and all over my hands. At this point, I don't know how I'm going to hold the baby book in place to imprint her hand while both of our hands are covered in paint. Husband is no help as he's watching tv. Also, keep in mind that we don't have any handprints or footprints of Baby because someone forgot to request the hospital to do so. I may have remembered if someone told me, but I was heavily drugged. You give a boy one freaking thing to do while you, say, give birth to his baby, and what does he do? FORGET! So, now, we're stuck capturing these little hands and feet ourselves... I mean, myself.

Anyway, I got one and a half handprints. We have a game plan though, and we'll try again. Husband has since agreed to help as I believe it will take two of us. At this point, by the time we do this, I could just get her to do the handprint and footprint as her gift to me when she graduates high school.

Breastfeeding

No, this is not a TMI entry. I know Baby loves me, but sometimes, she looks up at me and doesn't see her mother. You know in cartoons when a character is hungry and its companion turns into a giant turkey? Then, the hungry character starts salivating? I feel like that's how she looks at me. I don't know if I like being looked at like I'm food. It's kind of weird.

Forever and Always...

There's a difference between typecasting and forever known as one character. For a typecasting example, whenever I see Christopher Walken, I think evil character. I mean, the man plays villain very well. I've also seen him not play a villain, but that is a rare thing. Occasionally, however, an actor plays a role that resonates with the audience. Aw, who am I kidding? I don't care about the audience, I only care about myself. That's the point of a blog. Sometimes, an actor plays a character and he or she will forever be that character no matter what direction or future roles he or she chooses. Here is my example:

In 1994-1995, Jared Leto was in a little show called My So-Called Life. It was the show we couldn't miss in college. Hence force, of course, Jared Leto will always be Jordan Catalano. There are others and very rarely do characters leave their signature role for me. However, I should note that one did. This is amazing because I didn't think it would ever happen, but Neil Patrick Harris did it. He is no longer Doogie Howser, M.D. He's rose above his role. I can't say that about a lot of other actors.

Still, no matter how hard he tries, Jared Leto will always be that dreamy Jordan Catalano...

Concert Pet Peeves

I was listening to Mirrorball by Sarah McLachlan, and I realized I have a couple of concert pet peeves.

In a lot of ways, people are lemmings when it comes to concerts. We all pile into an area for an intimate night with one of our favorite artists. Well, you know, it would be intimate if it wasn't for the thousands of other people. When the artist mentions where we live ("Hello, Detroit!"), we all scream as if to say, "I'm so glad you know geography! Yay, if it's Tuesday, it must be Detroit!" When the artist on stage swings his arms from side to side, waving them, we follow suit and wave our arms like we just don't care. Then, the most ridiculous thing is the sing along. We pay at least $50 to see our favorite artist and end up singing half the songs. The artist, who now has time to take a drink, go to the bathroom, entertain that cutie in the front row, sits back then says "great singing, everyone!" at which we all scream even though we did all the work!

Don't even get me started on how much concerts and their corresponding merchandise cost...

We May Be The Apple In Mom and Dad's Eyes...

But we're just a statistic to the government. Baby is absolute perfection to us. There is nothing more perfect, more adorable, more everything... than our little baby. Then, I read this article and realize a lot of other people have babies, too. It seems, of course, by accident, that I'm doing what everyone else is doing!

Paraphrasing the article, I think it's interesting that people tend to react to prosperity by having children. So, in a time where it seems like Baby is the only baby in the world according to us, it turns out a gazillion other people think the same thing about their offspring. She may not be the only baby in the world, but I know she's the most perfect.

Who Will Cry More?

Baby turned 2-months old a week or so ago. This means we have to go to her 2-month pediatrician visit. She's used to the doctor visits, but this doctor's visit will be a little different. She starts receiving her vaccinations. *sniff* So, we're taking bets now who will cry more during the doctor's visit - Baby or her parents.

We seriously are taking bets on how much she weighs now. She's turned into quite the chunky monkey in the last month. She's a total piggy. Nothing like inflicting a body image compex on her at such a young age, right? We'll see who wins the pot tomorrow. The guesses are between 8 lb 13 oz and 11 lbs. Clearly, my dad has no concept of baby weight. The pot is nothing but bragging rights, but in my family, that is more valuable than money.

Updated: So, it turns out that the guy who knows nothing about baby weight was the closest. Baby was 10 pounds 10 ounces. Who knew? We thought she was chunky but not that chunky!

The Smurfs Turn 50!

The Smurfs were a huge part of my childhood. I watched the show religiously. I had the bed sheets, the t-shirts, the figurines. I still have the figurines somewhere, only a few select ones. I have them in storage, but whenever I can get at them again, I'm putting my Smurfette on my desk. It's a little writer Smurfette with a notebook and pencil. That was my favorite.

Congratulations, Smurfs!

Laughter Adds 8 Years

I think this commercial is hilarious. When he falls over from laughing, I lose it every time. If I live 8 years longer every time I view this, I'm living forever!

The Bucket List

I was watching a commercial for The Bucket List yesterday. Though I do not have a desire to see the movie, it got me thinking of of my own list of things I'd like to do. I can't say there are too many concrete things I'd like to do before I die. I mean, I know I want to travel more, see and do as much as I can. However, it's hard for me to compile a list. It's easier to come up with a list of things I don't need to do before I die. I definitely don't want to jump out of a plane. That said, I have always wanted to go up in a hot air balloon. I'm not sure why or where the idea originated, but I've always wanted to do it.

So, in no particular order, here is my list:
1. Ride in a hot air balloon
2. Learn to play the clarinet
3. Finish my pilates DVD without injury
4. Tour South Korea to see the orphanage where I stayed as a baby
5. Bake and decorate a cake

Sadly, I have small goals. If I was living with something terminal, I don't actually think I"d concentrate on all the things I haven't done. I think I'd spend it doing things I already know I like to do with the people I love. I do believe having the list is a good idea. Why wait until something big forces you to do the things you've always wanted to do? In my case, most of the things I want to do are relatively attainable except maybe finishing the pilates DVD. I really hurt myself every time. For the big things, I like to look at them as goals. They're something big for which to save, to anticipate. It's always good to have something just out of reach.

The eternal question...

Coke vs Pepsi

I wasn't a big soda drinker as a child, and my parents did not have a soft drink preference. So, when I turned 18 and was legally allowed to vote (ok, the truth really was because I went to college that year and was in charge of my own food and drink choices), I made my beverage choice and chose Coca-Cola products.

What is unique about myself is that I will drink any Coca-Cola Product from Diet Caffeine-Free Coke, Diet Coke, Coke Zero, and regular Coke (though I don't love Caffeine-Free regular Coke). I don't mind any of them. However, if given a preference, I do have a favorite.

What is it about Diet Coke? For me, it's addictive. The caffeine will hit me more than any other soft drink. If I have a Diet Coke, I feel like I'm taking speed. I will go around kicking ass in the morning and taking names in the evening as I believe eminem phrased it. I won't drink more than one a day, and some days I won't have one at all, but I know if I do drink one, I'm guaranteed to perk right up.

There must be a support group or a 12-Step Program to wean myself off...

The Best Show Everyone Should Be Watching

My favorite show is Friday Night Lights. I'm a huge fan and have been systematically breaking down the will of everyone to whom I'm related. My brother-in-law and his wife finally watched Season One. I bought Season One to convince the husband to watch. So, tonight, thanks to the writers' strike and the end of a six-week marathon of the first four seasons of The Wire, he finally broke down and watched the first disc of Season One. He's a convert!

Sidenote: The husband is not a big TV person, but he has watched the first four seasons of The Wire in about a month in preparation to the premiere of the fifth and final season. So, there are a few shows with which he invests great sums of time.

So, back to the point, if you haven't watched Friday Night Lights yet, I recommend it. The first season is super cheap. I picked it up for less than $20. Oh, I forgot the most important part... Kyle Chandler. I've been in love with him since Homefront, not to mention my obsession with Early Edition. His recognition is long overdue.


Yummy... Anyway, sales pitch done.

If Life is a Highway...

If life is a highway, what does it mean when you are responsible for injuring an animal?
Today, while driving to work, I may have been responsible for, at the very least, injuring a bird. It is possible that it was a fatal injury, but I was unable to follow the bird. It was, you could say, a hit and run.

Now, before you judge, here is how is happened. I'm sure the bird has a different point of view, but he can start his own blog if he wants the word out. You know how sometimes birds show exactly how small their brains are and either walk into the street or fly really low? I always ask myself why they walk into the street or fly really low when they can fly high ABOVE the cars. This suicidal bird comes out of nowhere and flies right under my car. It was as if his bird friends were on the side of the highway egging him on. "Bet you can't fly in front of that green Taurus Camry and not be part of the grill!" they would have said. "Bet I can," that stupid bird replied. So, the daredevil bird flew out in front of my car. Usually, birds make it. This time, I distinctly heard the bird get clipped with some part of my car. I saw him fly away so I know he didn't die on impact, but I wonder if his he is nursing a broken bone or met his death when he couldn't fly very far and landed on the third rail of the Metro or became a victim of another automobile further down the road.

Regardless, it was a sad way to start the morning. On the other hand, it would have been more disastrous to swerve out of the way and cause an accident resulting in a major traffic delay on an already busy highway where road rage runs rampant. I'd rather have a bird family out for vengeance against me than all of Northern Virginia drivers.

The Things No One Told Me About Being a Parent

The Things No One Told Me About Being a Parent

1. Babies eat 1-2 ounces at a time... yet they can spit up a full gallon (or it seems like it!).
2. The clothes are little, but somehow they multiply like rabbits in the laundry basket.
3. Everything health related revolves around poo. Who knew entire conversations can be all about poo - what color, what amount, what consistency, what frequency?
4. In addition to point number 3, no one cares about your baby's poo.
5. Things that used to gross you out (aka all bodily fluids) somehow don't bother you anymore.