Ok, I officially feel HUGE. Although I have to say that for once my Dr. is telling me I'm right on track. Yay! Dash wanted in on the belly exposure too :)
Thursday, April 16, 2009
22 Week Belly
Ok, I officially feel HUGE. Although I have to say that for once my Dr. is telling me I'm right on track. Yay! Dash wanted in on the belly exposure too :)
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Help Me Internets, From Tball Hell
Ok Internets, I need your advice.
This week, Fin started t-ball. Initially I was a tad hesitant to start him because, dude, he's three. But he has a few friends doing it and I thought it would be a good opportunity for him. I don't expect - or want - any of my kids to be professional athletes, but I would like them to enjoy sports. My hope is to give them every opportunity I can to try as many new and fun things as they can. I also hope it will make Fin tired enough to sleep past 6:30 am.
Anyway, our first practice was this week and our first game is this weekend. Because I was a little late to the party, Fin isn't on a team with his friends and instead is on one where we don't know anyone. I wasn't worried about this. Fin loves kids, all kids, and makes friends almost instantly so if this experience was going to be tough on anyone it would be me since I don't know any of the parents. And, um, you know how I feel about making new friends. So I figured that the team didn't so much matter.
And that was mistake number one.
As the kids start to show up to practice, I notice that Fin, who is usually the shortest anyway, is DWARFED by some of these kids. One kid in particular is damn near my height. And then I see some of them play and it becomes clear that this is SO not the first time they've been on a team. But I know how enthusiastic Fin has been so I'm hoping that would compensate for height and lack of experience. The coaches seem nice and he seems to quickly find a niche among the other kids, so I sit back with Dash to watch the practice.
As I'm watching, I'm also (duh) eavesdropping on the parents chit chat around me. I shouldn't have been surprised, but still I was as I heard one parent say to the other "oh yeah, my son is five too, he'll be six, but I really felt like he needed another year in Division One". Oh how I wish I could say I were joking. At least this explains why this child looks like a giant! But seriously, who red-shirts their kid IN T-BALL, AT FOUR (or five?). Seriously?
I redirect my attentions to Fin and get my camera out to document this first practice of his first sport ever (and also, because people tend not to approach you when you're hiding behind a camera which I find very convenient). The coach is tossing fly balls to the kids and calling out names for each one to make a catch. It's Fin's turn and I'm thrilled to see that he's right under it, mitt ready...that is until giant Robbie Rotten (RR) walks over, grabs his mitt and CHUCKS IT as far afield as he can (which is actually impressively far). I'm still trying to figure out why he didn't just try and push him aside or catch it himself...I mean seriously, who does that?!? I loudly explain to Dash how rude the boy was while his mother shoots me a sideways glance but still says nothing.
Things progress uneventfully and I'm proud to watch Fin totally unfazed by the events.
As practice ends, it's time for the team meeting so the kids run to play together while the parents receive a never ending list of instructions on the when's and where's (forget your lazy Saturday mornings, it's game day!) and what's of the deal (anyone know where you can find a cup for a three year old?). I notice that a friend of mine has arrived with her son so that the boys can play in the park a little so I concentrate on listening to the coach knowing that someone has an eye on Fin.
Fin's buddy had brought with him two toys for them to play with which was an immediate hit. That is until RR and his evil sidekick decided they wanted to play too. Evil Sidekick (ES)grabs the toy from Fin and starts taunting him with it. Fin asks (nicely even I think!) for it back and is told no. Apparently there was also some teasing over his height and he told me later that the two shitheads referred to him as "a baby who shouldn't be on their team". This is about where I come in to see ES rolling down the kill, toy in hand, and Fin helping him along with a swift kick to his torso. I immediately reprimand Fin for kicking and direct him to apologize while my friend filled me in on what led up to it. Fin is trying to tell me about ES taking the toy while my friend goes up to the boy directly and tells him it's time to give it back to her. Which is when the kid THROWS it at her. Throws it. At an adult.
I'm starting to wonder if he could possibly be the rock tosser from the park.
After a lot of thought, I'm going to keep Fin on the team. He loves it, even with his complaints about being teased. I don't want him to run from adversity either. But as he was back on the subject tonight, lamenting being referred to as a baby, I told him that the next time RR said anything like that to him he should tell him that he should be on a team with kids his own age. Possibly not the best thing to say, but I was frustrated.
So Internets, here's my dilemma. How do I advise him to handle all this? And how involved do I get? I know it was wrong for him to kick ES, but really that kid totally asked for it (not that I told Fin that). How do I raise a boy who isn't a bully but also isn't a victim?
Practical and Peanut Gallery opinions appreciated!
This week, Fin started t-ball. Initially I was a tad hesitant to start him because, dude, he's three. But he has a few friends doing it and I thought it would be a good opportunity for him. I don't expect - or want - any of my kids to be professional athletes, but I would like them to enjoy sports. My hope is to give them every opportunity I can to try as many new and fun things as they can. I also hope it will make Fin tired enough to sleep past 6:30 am.
Anyway, our first practice was this week and our first game is this weekend. Because I was a little late to the party, Fin isn't on a team with his friends and instead is on one where we don't know anyone. I wasn't worried about this. Fin loves kids, all kids, and makes friends almost instantly so if this experience was going to be tough on anyone it would be me since I don't know any of the parents. And, um, you know how I feel about making new friends. So I figured that the team didn't so much matter.
And that was mistake number one.
As the kids start to show up to practice, I notice that Fin, who is usually the shortest anyway, is DWARFED by some of these kids. One kid in particular is damn near my height. And then I see some of them play and it becomes clear that this is SO not the first time they've been on a team. But I know how enthusiastic Fin has been so I'm hoping that would compensate for height and lack of experience. The coaches seem nice and he seems to quickly find a niche among the other kids, so I sit back with Dash to watch the practice.
As I'm watching, I'm also (duh) eavesdropping on the parents chit chat around me. I shouldn't have been surprised, but still I was as I heard one parent say to the other "oh yeah, my son is five too, he'll be six, but I really felt like he needed another year in Division One". Oh how I wish I could say I were joking. At least this explains why this child looks like a giant! But seriously, who red-shirts their kid IN T-BALL, AT FOUR (or five?). Seriously?
I redirect my attentions to Fin and get my camera out to document this first practice of his first sport ever (and also, because people tend not to approach you when you're hiding behind a camera which I find very convenient). The coach is tossing fly balls to the kids and calling out names for each one to make a catch. It's Fin's turn and I'm thrilled to see that he's right under it, mitt ready...that is until giant Robbie Rotten (RR) walks over, grabs his mitt and CHUCKS IT as far afield as he can (which is actually impressively far). I'm still trying to figure out why he didn't just try and push him aside or catch it himself...I mean seriously, who does that?!? I loudly explain to Dash how rude the boy was while his mother shoots me a sideways glance but still says nothing.
Things progress uneventfully and I'm proud to watch Fin totally unfazed by the events.
As practice ends, it's time for the team meeting so the kids run to play together while the parents receive a never ending list of instructions on the when's and where's (forget your lazy Saturday mornings, it's game day!) and what's of the deal (anyone know where you can find a cup for a three year old?). I notice that a friend of mine has arrived with her son so that the boys can play in the park a little so I concentrate on listening to the coach knowing that someone has an eye on Fin.
Fin's buddy had brought with him two toys for them to play with which was an immediate hit. That is until RR and his evil sidekick decided they wanted to play too. Evil Sidekick (ES)grabs the toy from Fin and starts taunting him with it. Fin asks (nicely even I think!) for it back and is told no. Apparently there was also some teasing over his height and he told me later that the two shitheads referred to him as "a baby who shouldn't be on their team". This is about where I come in to see ES rolling down the kill, toy in hand, and Fin helping him along with a swift kick to his torso. I immediately reprimand Fin for kicking and direct him to apologize while my friend filled me in on what led up to it. Fin is trying to tell me about ES taking the toy while my friend goes up to the boy directly and tells him it's time to give it back to her. Which is when the kid THROWS it at her. Throws it. At an adult.
I'm starting to wonder if he could possibly be the rock tosser from the park.
After a lot of thought, I'm going to keep Fin on the team. He loves it, even with his complaints about being teased. I don't want him to run from adversity either. But as he was back on the subject tonight, lamenting being referred to as a baby, I told him that the next time RR said anything like that to him he should tell him that he should be on a team with kids his own age. Possibly not the best thing to say, but I was frustrated.
So Internets, here's my dilemma. How do I advise him to handle all this? And how involved do I get? I know it was wrong for him to kick ES, but really that kid totally asked for it (not that I told Fin that). How do I raise a boy who isn't a bully but also isn't a victim?
Practical and Peanut Gallery opinions appreciated!
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
To Share Or Not To Share
Aunt Becky raised an interesting question lately about how much to reveal in your blog and what lengths to go to avoid offending people who may or may not be reading. It struck a cord with me since I've been working on a post that I've scrapped more than a few times because I was afraid it would hurt or piss someone off.
And then there's also the question of whether anyone is reading and really cares anyway
In the end, whether it's because I genuinely care about the person or because I just don't want to have to listen to them bitch, I generally just bag the post and try and move on. But this can present some issues too, because for me, one of the reasons I started blogging was a way to reflect on daily life without having to use a written journal so when I avoid honesty I'm not so much being true to myself.
And also, it's a lot less interesting to read when I put on my big girl panties and suck it up.
I mean, you might really enjoy reading my rant against an acquaintance who had the nerve to poke fun at the way I dress up my kids just as she was knitting sweaters for her dog. Or how much it pisses me off that my grandmother decides to have a health catastrophe every time I get pregnant. I mean really, I'd like to be able to call my mom and bitch about not feeling well without feeling guilty because I know that her day has been just as hard physically and likely harder emotionally. And then there are the many entries I've started about other peoples kids that piss me off and how much I HATE going to the park where tiney-hiney'd mamas in exercise garb gab at each other while their little monsters steal toys, push, and shove my kids, and THROW ROCKS AT ME. I mean literally, when you hear a conversation about how much they give up to stay home while paying ZERO attention to their children, you want to scream - GO TO WORK AND GET A NANNY! DO IT FOR ALL OF US. Ok, so maybe I will write more on that one, cause seriously? That shit PISSES ME OFF.
But generally, I think most of those things are best left in the basement. Go visit. Read secrets. Write something yourself. It's cathartic, I promise.
Meanwhile, I might be a bit of a stranger lately. Fin is on Spring Break (which makes me want to cry at the prospect of pending summer) and I'm working on a cool project with a friend that I promise to share soon.
And then there's also the question of whether anyone is reading and really cares anyway
In the end, whether it's because I genuinely care about the person or because I just don't want to have to listen to them bitch, I generally just bag the post and try and move on. But this can present some issues too, because for me, one of the reasons I started blogging was a way to reflect on daily life without having to use a written journal so when I avoid honesty I'm not so much being true to myself.
And also, it's a lot less interesting to read when I put on my big girl panties and suck it up.
I mean, you might really enjoy reading my rant against an acquaintance who had the nerve to poke fun at the way I dress up my kids just as she was knitting sweaters for her dog. Or how much it pisses me off that my grandmother decides to have a health catastrophe every time I get pregnant. I mean really, I'd like to be able to call my mom and bitch about not feeling well without feeling guilty because I know that her day has been just as hard physically and likely harder emotionally. And then there are the many entries I've started about other peoples kids that piss me off and how much I HATE going to the park where tiney-hiney'd mamas in exercise garb gab at each other while their little monsters steal toys, push, and shove my kids, and THROW ROCKS AT ME. I mean literally, when you hear a conversation about how much they give up to stay home while paying ZERO attention to their children, you want to scream - GO TO WORK AND GET A NANNY! DO IT FOR ALL OF US. Ok, so maybe I will write more on that one, cause seriously? That shit PISSES ME OFF.
But generally, I think most of those things are best left in the basement. Go visit. Read secrets. Write something yourself. It's cathartic, I promise.
Meanwhile, I might be a bit of a stranger lately. Fin is on Spring Break (which makes me want to cry at the prospect of pending summer) and I'm working on a cool project with a friend that I promise to share soon.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
20 Week Update
Well, here we are! 20 Weeks! I feel like 20 weeks is soooo much longer to wait, but at the same time that these first 20 have gone by fairly quickly. Here's hoping the rest do too.I'm in maternity clothes for the first time this week. They're still huge but so comfy and I know I'll grow into them before I'm ready. Little boy is also kicking up a storm and can actually now be seen from the outside which is pretty cool and Brooks gets to feel him every night since his favorite time to be active is around 9pm.
We had an ultrasound today - everything looked great and normal and he's measuring right on schedule. He had been kicking low and then seemed to turn this morning. During the ultrasound he went from transverse facing out to facing down and kept turning - the technician was pretty sure he was getting himself situated head down - which would be fantastic if he could get there and stay there. I also noticed that my back felt a little better today so I'm hoping that his position change has something to do with that as well.
I'll be scanning the new pictures as soon as the hubs gets home, so look for them soon :)
Monday, March 30, 2009
The Pregnant Lady Gets Busted
Ok, so I'm going to go ahead and start this by saying that I warned you. As a pregnant woman, I should have my drivers license suspended. Immediately. And then Brooks should get some kind of special leave to stay home with me all day so that he can take care of me and drive me around. I'm working on all that.
And I also need to remind you that I'm sometimes deaf. And that this past week, I seemed to be very deaf.
And finally, I have to say that I've NEVER been pulled over before. So if you're screaming that I'm an idiot who should have known what was up, know that much. Actually, I've only once even been IN a car that was pulled over. For "Brightin' Me". But that's a whole 'nother Oprah, right Emily?
So now, here is the whole story. And I'm sure it's one my kids will be telling and tormenting me with for years to come...
I spent the whole morning Friday cleaning house, washing sheets and packing for our Palm Springs weekend adventure. Also on my mind was the tax increase that will happen April 1 here in CA. On a hunch, I called the furniture store where We'd picked out Fin and Dash's new bed to see if they were running a special. Indeed they were! Since we were all packed and ready and Brooks was running late, I decided to head over there and order the beds so I could save some moolah.
(Wait, since Brooks was running late, can I blame him some too?)
We're in the car, headed over to the furniture store, driving down a nice straightaway, when I notice a cop behind me. And his lights are on. But they're not flashing. And I don't hear anything. What does that mean? I'm going the speed limit, so I carry on. A few seconds later I notice he's RIGHT UP ON ME, so I change lanes right. He follows. I'm now starting to be concerned that maybe he's after me. So I pull over one more right lane. He follows. Ok, I think he's definitely after me. I pull over into he next parking lot.
And that's when all hell breaks loose.
The next thing I know, he's pulled in fast, skidding and horizontally behind my car and is yelling over the intercom for me to get out of the car. I glance back at the kids - who clearly think this is awesome fun! - and get out of the car. HANDS ON THE HOOD NOW! I think I actually giggled because all I could think of was that someone with the same car must have done something BAD. And I mean please, a pregnant woman with two toddlers in the car is SUCH a threat?!?
Cop: "Ma'am, WHY DIDN'T YOU PULL OVER?!?!"
Ruh roh.
I'll spare you the rest of the conversation play-by-play as it was long, confusing and frequently interrupted by screams from the car (Mom, where are my sunglasses? Mom, I'm hungry? Mom, can we ride in the police car?). Apparently I was going a tad fast. As I learned on my drive home, theasshat officer was waiting right where the speed limit changes to nab people who miss it. But the bigger problem was that he had allegedly been following me, sirens blaring, yelling on the horn, for FIVE MINUTES. And he had asked me to pull over left. So all things considered, he had decided that I was "a runner". Sigh. A lengthy explanation of Minears disease and a google search from the cop car later, he told me he had to give me a speeding ticket since he had it on radar (which is totally a crapper because I was going the SAME DAMN SPEED as the person ahead of me and the one next to me, but I wasn't exactly in a position to argue).
So I am now the proud owner of my first speeding ticket.
Because I assumed that it was what you were SUPPOSED to do, I called my husband. He was simultaneously unamused and unsympathetic and intimated that the ticket could be the equivalent of our national debt. So I called my mom. I figured that if my generally kind husband took a tough love approach, maybe the universe was off and my tough love mother would be kind. Thankfully she was. And so I felt better. And when I reminded Brooks about his last traffic ticket and how I was not only nice but alsodid his helped him do online traffic school, he was nicer too. He just assumed that because I wasn't crying, I wasn't taking the situation seriously.
Which reminds me, why on possibly the only advantageous occasion, does the pregnant woman for once NOT cry. I mean, it was all I could do not to laugh out loud. Oops.
In the end, the boys got their bed for a great deal (I won't tell you how much I saved, but how does a grand sound?) and we had a fantastic weekend.
Since the ticket won't come close to the savings, I still won in the end, right?
And I also need to remind you that I'm sometimes deaf. And that this past week, I seemed to be very deaf.
And finally, I have to say that I've NEVER been pulled over before. So if you're screaming that I'm an idiot who should have known what was up, know that much. Actually, I've only once even been IN a car that was pulled over. For "Brightin' Me". But that's a whole 'nother Oprah, right Emily?
So now, here is the whole story. And I'm sure it's one my kids will be telling and tormenting me with for years to come...
I spent the whole morning Friday cleaning house, washing sheets and packing for our Palm Springs weekend adventure. Also on my mind was the tax increase that will happen April 1 here in CA. On a hunch, I called the furniture store where We'd picked out Fin and Dash's new bed to see if they were running a special. Indeed they were! Since we were all packed and ready and Brooks was running late, I decided to head over there and order the beds so I could save some moolah.
(Wait, since Brooks was running late, can I blame him some too?)
We're in the car, headed over to the furniture store, driving down a nice straightaway, when I notice a cop behind me. And his lights are on. But they're not flashing. And I don't hear anything. What does that mean? I'm going the speed limit, so I carry on. A few seconds later I notice he's RIGHT UP ON ME, so I change lanes right. He follows. I'm now starting to be concerned that maybe he's after me. So I pull over one more right lane. He follows. Ok, I think he's definitely after me. I pull over into he next parking lot.
And that's when all hell breaks loose.
The next thing I know, he's pulled in fast, skidding and horizontally behind my car and is yelling over the intercom for me to get out of the car. I glance back at the kids - who clearly think this is awesome fun! - and get out of the car. HANDS ON THE HOOD NOW! I think I actually giggled because all I could think of was that someone with the same car must have done something BAD. And I mean please, a pregnant woman with two toddlers in the car is SUCH a threat?!?
Cop: "Ma'am, WHY DIDN'T YOU PULL OVER?!?!"
Ruh roh.
I'll spare you the rest of the conversation play-by-play as it was long, confusing and frequently interrupted by screams from the car (Mom, where are my sunglasses? Mom, I'm hungry? Mom, can we ride in the police car?). Apparently I was going a tad fast. As I learned on my drive home, the
So I am now the proud owner of my first speeding ticket.
Because I assumed that it was what you were SUPPOSED to do, I called my husband. He was simultaneously unamused and unsympathetic and intimated that the ticket could be the equivalent of our national debt. So I called my mom. I figured that if my generally kind husband took a tough love approach, maybe the universe was off and my tough love mother would be kind. Thankfully she was. And so I felt better. And when I reminded Brooks about his last traffic ticket and how I was not only nice but also
Which reminds me, why on possibly the only advantageous occasion, does the pregnant woman for once NOT cry. I mean, it was all I could do not to laugh out loud. Oops.
In the end, the boys got their bed for a great deal (I won't tell you how much I saved, but how does a grand sound?) and we had a fantastic weekend.
Since the ticket won't come close to the savings, I still won in the end, right?
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