Kids Playmat ~ Gonna Need It Soon!

It's time to setup a plan for a play area for the baby to be. Yup, I'm pregnant and getting more than uncomfortable in size. Worn out trying to do all the things I used to do at this larger size. However, eating is more fun as I'm supposed to put on weight for the little bambino.

I decided these soft rubber playmats that interlock will be ideal and if you get the largest one it goes wall to wall in our spare bedroom. The baby won't bump her/his head and I won't be so neurotic about the whole thing with the floor of the room padded. I found a cute kids playmat online at on this webpage, in case you want to see it and maybe you need one too.

The next thing were going to need is a home bar... looking for that too, but that's after I give birth and can have a drink! But that's another day, another time... too tired.







Thanks To The Moron

Oh! To be a man!

Thanks to the moron, my car has been in the shop since just after Christmas.

city bus


DH has been taking me to work. I’ve either bummed rides or taken the bus home for the last two weeks. Taking the bus isn’t for sissys! Apparently, one needs to know NorthEast from NorthWest in order to find one’s bus stop. Who knew!? I have not completely mastered this skill, so I miss my transfers, have to make friends with strange people who seem to know where they’re going, bla bla bla…

I need to lose some weight. I’m tired, I’m stressed, a ton of stuff going on at work, so this morning was not the morning to start “dieting.” I made a deal with myself, as I was leaving the house at 6:30 a.m., that I would drink my water today. No dieting, no meal planning, no guilt… just drink my water. Baby steps, right?

6:30 a.m.: Chugged 16 ounces of chilled filtered tasty water, and ran out the door.
7:30 a.m.: Half a cup of Really Bad Coffee while waiting for my ride.
8:30 a.m.: Got set up for a conference at work and had another half cup of Really Bad Coffee.
9:00 a.m.: Last night we bought seventy 16 ounce bottles of clean tasty water for today's all-day conference. I can drink water when I’m bored, its just something to do… I’ll get my 6-8 glasses in with no problem.
2:30 p.m.: The conference was boring enough to require a total of 3 bottles of water.
3:30 p.m.: Got a ride with someone who insisted on buying me a soda, because he wanted to stop for one. Sugar and caffeine don’t really count toward “drink water” but: Smile, nod, accept the soda. I asked for an Arnold Palmer.

He bought me a 44 oz Arnold Palmer.

44oz Arnold Palmer Drink

44oz Arnold Palmer

I new better. I really did. I put off drinking it. I carried it back to my office, finished working, caught the bus. Had a sip. Changed buses, had a sip. Got bored, had a couple more sips.

Its an hour long bus ride. Half way into it, most of the Arnold Palmer was gone.

... 30 minutes til my stop: Maybe there won’t be many people to pick up. I’ll make it home.

... 20 minutes til my stop: I’d get off and use the restroom in Starbucks, but then I’d have to wait an hour for the next bus to come by. I really wish this bus came more than every hour.

... 15 minutes til my stop: Oh… that woman walks so slow! Hurry up and sit down so the bus can leave.

... 10 minutes til my stop: Hmm Hmm Hmm La La Laaaaa. Almost there, almost there, almost there.

... 5 minutes til my stop: Are we going by any markets where I could get off the bus and go? I could just walk the extra few blocks home! No, of course not! Cockamamie little town!

By the time I got off the bus, I had a nice little plan to run home. Except that I was so full and so cramped, I could barely hobble. Suddenly, this was not a few blocks, but an endless marathon.

I considered backtracking and trying to find a business where I could use the restroom, but the crosswalk signal on this corner is soooooooooooooo slow!

Only one way to go: home.

Its amazing what options I considered while hobbling the last half-mile home.

I could knock on someone's door: except its late, and I wouldn’t be able to keep the half-crazed look off my face when they answered. I’d probably freak them out.

I could sit down on the curb between two parked cars: except that I’d get arrested if I got caught.

Do I really care if I get arrested at this point? Well, maaaaybe.

I could find a bush, or a side yard, or even a trashcan… darn these endless manicured lawns!!

I wish I was a man; it’d be so much easier to be discrete about this!

Its dark, I’m wearing black pants, I could just pee and do laundry as soon as I get home. No one would know… but I just bought these shoes yesterday…

That house! There’s an ungardened spot in that yard!! I wouldn’t be wizzing on their lawn! But I’d get arrested…

Dark corner, side yard, Retaining wall to hide from one direction of traffic… There! I’ll make a run for it. Darn lights are on… Oh, wait! The lights are on in the BACK of that house! They’ll never see me in the front yard!

Yipping Dog

Yipping Dog

GOSH DARN YIPPING DOG!!!! SHUUUUSH! I’m gonna wring your… I’ll get caught.

An alley! PERFECT! It’s not too far! UUUUUGH! Brake lights, someone’s backing their car out.

Shoot, wasted all those extra steps, now I gotta get back on the path toward home.

At this point I had to pee so bad I grabbed my keys from my purse, just to have something to cling to. I was moving slower, my whole body was cramped, and …

Wouldn’t you like to know what happened? Blog me!

Mommy Bloggers Jr.

Mommy Bloggers Jr.

I had a friend from out of town come to visit me this weekend. While I was waiting for “her,” I wondered: at what point does a blog become a mommy blog, by mommy bloggers jr? Is it when you start blogging about peeing on little plastic sticks? Is it when you start asking the Internet to refer a good OBGYN? Is it when you slap your official “It’s a…” jpeg on your homepage?

No. Chill out already! This hasn't become a mommy blog, yet.

When do I get to join the club and start soliciting mommy blogger advice? Is there a junior membership? A mommy blogger equivalent to a Brownie Girl Scout?

Today I had to make a decision. Lord help me, I have no idea if it was the right one.

I was surfing “the latest reconnect with friends website,” clicking on links, and flipping through pictures. Each thousand-word-tale was some adventure or party, some perfect day or goofy pose. Its neat to see what each person picks as their shining moment to show the world, the things they are most proud of.

I wandered to the site of a woman who I went to school with but knew only by name. Cute pictures. Cute kid. Each picture accompanied by a comment filled with pride.

They’re the same pictures our parents took of us, and we (will) take of our kids. First missing tooth, first day at school, first yearbook picture. It doesn’t matter who’s kid is in the picture, who took the picture, where it was taken.

When you look at that picture you don’t see someone else’s kid, someone else’s memory. Your mind doesn’t absorb the details of the picture so much as your mind’s eye reaches back through your own memory. The feeling of running your tongue over that first bloody hole in your gum. The day that someone bent down and gave you the gift of your written name on a piece of construction paper cut out in the shape of a pencil. “This is yours. Let me show you, this is the letter…”

I can still feel the paper, wrinkled slightly, and pinned to my shirt.

That’s why we take pictures; to catch that moment. That’s why we share them with others; to help hang on to that emotion which is specific to that time and place. That’s why we stop to look at a picture we don’t belong to; to remember the moments that we do belong to.

I didn’t even see it until after I had gone on to read another website.

I missed the details of the picture I was looking at, because I was lost in the details of my own memory. Big black Sharpie-marker-letters, first name, last name, construction paper, safety pin, big smile, photograph, uploaded on the internet. Mom’s pride and joy.

I had to flip back at the site and stare. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing: First Name, Last Name, Big Smile, posted within one click of the page that listed the city and state that mom (and kid) live in.

The Internet makes the world smaller. Talk to your friend who is serving in the army in Kosovo. Make friends with a penpal in China. Send pictures of your pride and joy to Grandma on the east coast. The Internet brings everyone within your reach, but it makes it difficult to figuratively lock your doors at night.

I was so shocked. I paniced for her! I had to stop myself from yelling out loud at my keyboard to tell her “Look out! You forgot to crop your kid’s name out of this picture before you posted it!” As if I were literally warning her that someone left the swimmingpool gate open.

This is the part where I had to back up and say “Not the Mama!” I don’t know her. Can I email her and scream that the sky is falling? Will she think I’m a stalker? Will I terrify her into changing her phone number, and getting a PO box? Will she think I’m trying to tell her how to raise her kid? Am I being paranoid, assuming something horrible will happen to her kid? Is it really a big deal to post your kid’s picture on a website? Did she intend to crop the name out of this picture, but simply forget? Would she appreciate the reminder? What do I say to her?

Do I really even have the right to say anything?

I sent the email. I guess I’d rather be a stalker than an enabler.

Where are the lines drawn?

A couple of days later she emailed back and said thanks, then she took the picture down.