I Don't Care and You Don't Matter

People Falling = Funny

2009-08-24T16:29:00.002-04:00

I fall all the time, so I can say this.

Falling people is one of the funniest things. My first instinct is to laugh and then I ask if the person is alright.

This past week I fell. Again.

I was walking with a friend, coffee in hand, not paying attention. One wrong step and I went down like 200 pounds. (Don't judge me. I'm trying to lose it.)

Mo, my friend, who was walking beside me, coffee in hand, immediately bent over and asked if I was ok. I was grateful for this, since I hadn't heard a laugh from her lips yet, but what I did hear not two seconds after she asked if I was ok, and well before I answered her, was, "Oh no, your coffee!"

Mo, with her mongoose-like reflexes dove for the coffee and saves two thirds of it. Alright, Mo! I was afterall quite in need of caffeine.

This same week, a group of people were made to compete in an Izzy Dizzy relay race. To my disappointment, no one fell. Sure some were running around like chickens without heads, but not one spill. Not one fat girl or boy face down in the grass. Admit it. Fat people falling is even funnier than fit people falling.

What's even more funny, is when you see someone truly annoying fall down. This also happened last week. It was an eventful week. Don't be jealous that I got to laugh much more than you did.
I'm not entirely fond of this person, who you can always count on as someone who is trying to garner attention to herself. Well, she got it, by falling pretty hard on her back and head last week. It was not just your usual spill. She happened to be running bare footed on a tile floor that was covered in water from a fresh spill. Well, her feet went up in the air, probably a good two to three feet and she landed on her back and her head hit the linolium tile floor. As much as I can't stand her, I was one of the first people by her side. Not because I was laughing, but because it looked like a scary fall that could have seriously hurt her, which I wouldn't wish on ayone... Ok, that's not true. I wouldn't wish it on many.

I didn't laugh at her then, but since she was given a clean bill of healthy by the nursing staff, and still milked it for the next couple of days and then continued to try to get all the attention at the end of the week, I am laughing. I am laughing in her general direction.

Ah, good times. (And I'm not even going to proof read this.)

File This One Under... WTF?

2009-07-28T10:54:00.006-04:00

On Sunday my husband did me a favor.

Wait, a favor? Can I really call it a favor? Okay, you decide if this is a favor or not.

He said, "Honey since I know you want to clean the dining room and livingroom, and mop the floors, I was thinking I would take Merrick to my brother's house early and you can meet us there later."

Important note: I don't recall implying in any way, shape, or form that I wanted to clean anything. In fact, anyone who knows me, knows that I don't want to clean. Ever.

A real favor would have been if he had said, "Honey, I know you're not feeling well (which I'm not), so why don't I take Merrick early while you soak it up in the tub and have a relaxing afternoon?"

So after I cleaned the living and dining rooms and yes, mopped the floors I took a shower, (not a relaxing soak in the tub) and headed out to my brother-in-law's house for our Sunday ritual of a four-hour Portuguese Sunday dinner of loud talking, half English, half Portugues sentences, and translations for me. As I got into the car I noticed that it was drzzling ever so slightly. As I got onto Rt. 80 East, I noticed that it was drizzling less slightly. As I pulled into Kearny, it was now raining prety good.

Merrick was happy to see me. So happy, he greeted me with a dirty diaper. So I took him upstairs to change it. In the middle of this duty (not doodie), I realized that the wind had really picked up. I could hear tree branches hitting the ground and the 100 foot tall trees that lined Tony's street were responding angrily. Just as I finished pulling up Merrick's pants, he and I both were startled by a loud crash and scraping noise.

WTF!

Tony and Joe were yelling for us to come downstairs because a tree had came down on the roof. Or so they thought.

Literally, just as the tree had come down, the rain stopped and the sun was blaring. You could not see out of any window at the back of the house. All were obstructed by leaves.

WTF.

When we went to the kitchen door, leading to the deck... There was no deck. Only tree.

WTF.

Ok, so Tony was obviously getting his wish. He had just remarked the other day how he wnated to put on a new deck. Bonus!

We went outside the front door and walked up the driveway, but we couldn't see into the backyard. We could only see tree. A neighbor from four or five houses down, came running over asking if everyone was ok. We all were fine.

"It's terrible about your car," he said.

WTF?

"Why," asked Tony.

"It's crushed. I watched it happen."

After walking through the other neighbor's yard, we could see that Tony's baby, his Ford Explorer, that he just put new tires on, and 20 minutes earlier, my hubby put a new headlight bulb in, was in fact crushed.

WTF.

I love many things about this story. The fact that it did not really damage the house (sans the deck). The fact that no one was sitting on the deck as we often do on Sundays. The fact that Joe didn't wait a half an hour longer to install the headlight bulb.

But what I love the most is Tony. He lost his deck and truck, and all he could say was, "I never thought the Explorer would go out that way."

The Shit Hit Everything

2009-07-28T10:41:00.002-04:00

I want to tell you a story.

Once upon a time, while driving back from a long day of site seeing at Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, my son had an ass explosion. Here's how it went down.

This past week I had my niece and nephew on vacation with me. We took a series of day trips each day. We didn't have any misshaps. Well, maybe just this one.

On Wednesday, we went to the Statue of Liberty. Let me tell you something too. We waited on line for ever to get into the monument, in what felt like 90 degree heat. Veronica was content, My mom, who came along sat with Merrick in the shade while we went in and up, and my nephew Gabriel wanted to do anything but stand on line. Anything amounted to throwing rocks, nagging his sister, sitting in the dirt with a sour look on his face, and hiding behind trees so I would think he ran off somewhere. It got old quick. Anyhow, after standing on line forever, we finally got into the museumy part of the monument. Not much to look at. Then we went in to the second observation deck. It was a hell of a lot of stairs to climb, especially for someone who put on 55 lbs during her pregnancy. I am down 14 pounds, just so you know. The view was alright, but I don't think I really needed to take the time to walk up all those stairs, almost have a stroke, and see what looked like a pretty ordinary view. My point is... yes I have one... I would have been better off just walking around the Statue of Liberty.

Anyhow, a day trip that we thought would take four or five hours, turned into about a 6 or 7 hour trip. We did have to stop at Ellis Island afterall.

On the way home, I heard the unmistakable sound of a pooping 7-month old.

Uggghhh. Ugggghhh.

"Is that Merrick pooping," I asked my niece and nephew.

"Smells like it. His face is getting red."

And then someone who doesn't really believe in the jinx, feels like she may have jinxed herself. Or rather, everyone in the car.

I said, "I sure hope he doesn't overflow the diaper."

About half of a Lady Gaga (Shes always on the radio) song later, Veronica started crying out, "He pooped. He pooped. It's on my hand. Help me!" Veronica is a prissy little girl, who is into clothes and pink, so you can imagine the shrieking.

I'm driving the car, so I can't turn around and see it for myself, so I arrange the rear view mirror so I could see what was going on. There's Veronica to the right of the car seat, shrieking with her poop filled hand in the air, crying for help. Ahh, if it were a very cold day, it might have even been steaming. That would have made it funnier. Then came the smell. Gabriel was pushed up against the left door of the car, trying to keep as far away as possible from the smell and I suppose, Veronica's hand.

My mom is in the passanger side seat, and she turns around to get a better look and lend a hand. Thank God for mommies.

"Is that the pacifier between his legs on the seat," I wonder aloud.

Mom pulls out the pacifier, which is of course covered in shit.

Now, I'm laughing. My mom grabs the wipes from the diaper bag and begins to clean off the pacifier (as though I'm going to put it in Merrick's mouth after this episode). Veronica is begging for her to clean her hand instead, which mom obliges. She cleans up Merrick's legs as best she can, so Merrick won't put his hands in the poop and then continues to sit facing the back seat so she can prevent him from causing any more chaos.

We roll down the windows. The kids faces are out of them, while I exit Rt. 280 into Harrison, where my parents live. It was a good thing we were close. The whole time I am hysterical, but also wondering if the suede car seat cover is machine washable. It's got to be, right?

When we arrive, I have to park down the street from their house. Parking is a bitch in Harrison. I put the Statue of Liberty merchandise bag on my arm, plop Merrick's smelly, sloppy ass into it, and carry him up the street to mom and dad's where there was a kitchen sink and spray hose with his name all over it.

And that my friends, was some funny shit. Sorry. I couldn't help saying so.

I've Gone Ahead And Done It

2009-03-31T00:14:00.001-04:00

I've done it. I've gone ahead and started a motherhood blog. It will of course be unlike this one. Most of the content will be "appropriate."

http://new2mommyhood.blogspot.com/

Anyway, you may choose to read this one or not. But if you do, please comment. It makes me feel very special.

Hrrrmph! He's Going to Say No!

2009-03-29T23:59:00.002-04:00

So my husband and I asked his brother Tony to be Godfather to our son. He hasn't had any other sacrement other than baptism, so he didn't think he would be allowed by the Catholic Church. I spoke with Father George and it turns out he would be allowed, as long as the other Godparent has them, which she does. Tonight, we explained that to him and he still didn't get a straight yes or no answer, but before we were leaving, I brought it up and he just made a noise.

An, "eeehhhh" noise.

Joe said, "You need another week to think about it." (Which angered me a bit because he already had a week to think about it, so why not have an answer ready for us? We're baptising him in four weeks. Invitations are going out tomorrow or the next day. Family members are going to ask who the godparents are, and we don't have a clue? That sucks.)

It's clear that he is going to say no.

Maybe I shouldn't be bummed, but I am. In fact, I feel quite heart-broken about it.

When Babies Attack!

2009-03-16T14:27:00.007-04:00

First He lures in the monkey.

"Lets be Best Friends Forever," he suggests with his baby good looks and a twinkle in his eye.

"Sure," says the money, unaware of the danger he's putting himself in.

"Let me just put my arm around you, since we're now BFF," says the baby.

All was calm and serene. The monkey had no idea that the baby began to open his mouth. The baby looked at his mother, as if to ask, "Should I?"

Just as the mommy began to warn the monkey, the baby attacked, ferociously gumming the monkey's head.

But don't worry. Mommy was able to make it all better with the help of a wet nap and a sterile band aid.

No monkeys were harmed in the making of this photo-shoot, however I did get a thumb cramp.

Look Into My Evil Eye

2009-03-14T21:52:00.004-04:00

First let me say this.

"Hello Gorgeous."

Not you. I'm referring to this blog, which I have, for too long, ignored. I know there could be no excuse that will make my trusty companion (blogger) forgive me, but I must say that being a new mommy did take precedence over almost everything else. Anyhow, now that the lil' guy sleeps through the night (at only 3 months I might add) I have some more time to myself and to this blog at night. And I really have to thank my friend Andrea who called me recently and told me the following story, because it gives me something to write about other than my son.

So here it goes.

I was driving home from work about a week ago, and Andrea called me. We chatted about odds and ends until she suddenly started whispering.

"Ok, I have to tell you what 's going on with my sister-in-law," she said.

"Why are you whispering?"

"Because I don't want Barry to hear."

She has a point. Even though Barry thinks his sister is a bit loony, or perhaps he would use the term "sheltered," he might not appreciate others criticising her for being as such. For example, my husband does not quite like my sister. And I don't mean how most husbands dislike their sisters-in-law. He genuinely does not like her. He will occasionally make a comment and I sometimes have to remind him that it's ok for me to make those same comments, but I don't always want to hear them from him. (Only sometimes)

So, the whispered story continues...

She goes on to tell me that her sister-in-law thinks that someone has put the "evil eye" on her... Over the Internet.

You read correctly. Over the Internet.

Immediately I started to laugh. I don't know if I was laughing because it was really funny, or because anything other than my son's tooting deserves a hearty chuckle. So laugh, I did. For quite a few moments, and then I asked, "What the hell is the evil eye really?" I've heard the term a lot. I know some Italians. Let's put it that way. But, I don't really know how one gets the evil eye put on them or why.

So she explained it and I also did some independent research (since I have so much free time). What I learned is that the Evil Eye has been around "since the beginning of time," said one website. Does this mean that Adam gave Eve the Evil Eye? Because if there was any eye I would be convinced that Adam gave Eve, it was Pirate. I digress. Depending on who you ask, the Evil Eye is actually a compliment. If someone is looking at you enviously, they could send negative energy to you by way of the "third eye" that we all may or may not posses in the middle of our foreheads. (No wonder bangs are back!) Last I checked, I did not have this trait, but I've been wrong before. The evil eye is an unfriendly, indifferent or even blank gaze that just lasts a little too long. If you've seen Juno, then you might refer to this as The Stink Eye, not the evil eye. Anyway, after someone has given you the evil eye, you might find yourself thinking about that person shortly after and for most, if not all day long. Bad fortune is supposed to follow.

In Andrea's sister-in-law's case, she claims to have had weird dreams as a result of this Internet delivered evil eye. I, of course asked which site's she's been on because I'd like to avoid the stink eye myself. Andrea said she goes on social chat sites and believes that someone she might have chatted with put this eye on her. Hmmm. Ok. So this dumb bitch goes to see a priest, tells him her story; which by the way involves dreams of of someone on top of her in bed, and chasing her, or some shit like that. Given that she is so sheltered and basically has no life, I would think she would enjoy such a dream. What what do I know?

So Father So-and-So basically tells her that she's crazy. She must have something on her mind in order to have the dreams (yeah like hoping to one day get laid).

Other things I've learned about the Evil Eye are:
1. In Italy, it is believed that the Evil Eye can cause impotence. It dries up the semen. However a man can ward this off my making the Mano Cornuto symbol with his hand. Perhaps Dane Cook's Super Finger is for impotence as well. I dunno.

2. Jews may spit three times or say "peh-peh-peh", throw salt, or mutter "kein ayin hara" ("no evil eye") when they feel threatened by the evil eye.

3. You can buy amulets or other trinkets that will ward off the Evil Eye. In fact, I found a great Website called Evil Eye Store, where I think Andrea's sister in law can find the help that the priest was not able to provide. Perhaps Andrea should do her Christmas shopping on this site.

Well, that's it for now. I'm going to now go to Facebook and look just a little too long and enviously at some of my "friends" pictures. (Mua-Mua-Muah! Ah! Ah!)

Letters to The Men in My Life

2009-01-13T14:34:00.002-05:00

Dear Husband,

Happy Anniversary, dear.

For three years you've called me wife and I've called you husband, hubby, lovey... and most affectionately... "round head." Well, your head is quite round. While I was pregnant, you called me, "Round Belly," and I think now that I am no longer carrying a child, you should refrain from this errr, endearment.

This morning as I was finishing up the task of changing your son's diaper, I walked out of his room and past the bathroom, noticing something quite disturbing. One wet towel, a pair of boxers and one pair of shorts. You left your laundry on the floor again... right next to a rather empty hamper. We're been living together in what I can only call, ALMOST paradise for five wonderous years now. In that time, I can only imagine that I have told you a hundred or so times that of all the things you could possibly do, leaving laundry on the bathroom floor is the only thing that causes me to become enraged. (Wait, enraged? Is that too much? No! It's not too much. Because after five years, it's gone from, "Gee, that's annoying," to "PLEASE stop doing that," and finally to, "Motivator, please take care of this habit of yours before I cut off your balls and feed them to you.")

Anyhow, I thought you should know that you did it again, and I can only assume that you think it's funny. You probably think I've been kidding all these years, that I actually lovingly look at your laundry every morning on the bathroom floor and think of how lucky I am to be able to pick these articles of dirty clothing up for you.

Well, I'd like to reiterate to you today, on our anniversary... that I don't. And in case I didn't make myself clear, let me tell you that I will cut off your balls and feed them to you for dinner tonight if you don't start picking up after yourself in the mornings.

Whew. I'm glad I got that off my chest. Now we can celebrate our marital bliss.

Your Loving Wife,
Sheri

Dear Son,

Please learn from yoru father's mistakes of you will one day meet the same fate.

Oh, and that was a very good poopie this morning. I'm so proud of you!

Your Loving Mommy.

Since Enquiring Minds Want to Know...

2009-01-07T12:34:00.004-05:00

I've been too occupied to post anything on the blog for some time now. See, I've been hanging out with a really cute guy. He's about 22 inches tall and weighs in now at about ten pounds. Oh, and he's a real cry baby too!

On Dec. 3, 2008 Merrick Alfredo was born, weighing in at a surprising 7 pounds and four ounces (surpising because we expected a large baby). Ten little fingers and ten little toes! He's absolutely perfect in every way.

I suppose as time goes on and I adjust to being a mommy, I will have more time to write about the adventures of mommy-hood and what not, but for now... here's a picture of my little man!

Not Exactly Out of The Water

2008-09-29T16:18:00.002-04:00

My brother called me this morning to let me know that he's being reactiviated to the Marines, and will be deployed to either Afghanistan or Iraq. I was devastated to say the least, but as he was telling me the story I was optimistic as much as I could be for him on the phone. Of course as usual, I'm getting this information first and he doesn't want me to say anything to my parents or anyone else. I guess he wants to break the news to my parents in person. This is just going to devastate both my parents and might possibly put my dad of an edge of something. Dad's on a pretty nasty medication right now that causes depression and to be honest, when my brother was deployed the last two times, Dad didn't need this medication to be depressed.

My brother is not a happy kid right now. He's got a gret job as an EMT and a state-side first responded, and he's living with his girlfriend - They've been looking for a new place. He took the policeman's test and is awaiting the results of that. Things were going really well for him, and now this. He said if he had gotten these orders a year and a half ago he would have been fine with it, but today, after two years of being inactive, with two years to go, he is very disappointed.

He is to ship to Missouri on the 19th of this month, and then from there I guess he'll be retrained and deployed, for what he said could be 15 to 19 months. What a kick in the pants! That's longer than his other two deployments which were 6-8 months each.

I told him that this is what he signed up for, and that he'll have to do his duty, but I also understood that it doesn't make the situation suck any less. Of course that was strong Sheri on the phone. As soon as I hung up with him, I was immediately in tears. I really don't want him to go. I want my little brother to be home and safe.

Motivator, Please!

2008-09-24T10:41:00.004-04:00

The other night Joe and I were watching... Are you ready for this? We were watching Resident Evil: Apocalypse. This movie is so bad... It's almost as bad a Rawhead Rex. If you've ever seen Rawhead, you know what I'm talking about. Oh yeah, we were that bored.

Wait. it gets better. We were watching it on one of those other channels. I only ever watch HBO, Channel 5, or whatever channel the Mets or Devils are on, so all other channels I refer to as "those other channels."

So... instead saying, "Mother Fucker, please," The ghetto-tastic black man in the movie said, "Motivator, please."

Joe and I have been saying it for days. It's the new "Dude," or "Whatever."

Feel free to join in.

Husbands Fears Rips Me From "The Zone."

2008-09-23T14:56:00.006-04:00

This blog would sound so much more fun if I was telling it with a cute little Bridget Jone's Diary accent, but I'm not so here it goes anyway...

Last night we were doing it.

Oh yeah, it's a big deal, you see, on account of me being 6 1/2 months pregnant. We don't do it often. I'm usually tired or afraid I'll pee all over him in the middle of the deed, that it usually doesn't get around to happening.

However I am proud to say that last night Joe and I were engaged in intercourse for the second time in about two weeks. (That sounds so clinical)

We're running through two of the safer positions in our treasure trove as Joe is careful not to squeeze my nipples, which by the way are so big, dark and taunt that they are begging to be squeezed. We heard that squeezing the nipples can release the hormone oxytocin which can induce labor.

So...

We're on the side, I'm on top, we're on the side, I'm on top again... And there I was... In the zone. You know the one. The Oh my God, I'm going to come if I can just keep up this rhythm without pulling a hammy zone, when all of a sudden, Joe says, "Honey, get on your side... You're making me nervous."

"What? Do you think I'm going to crush the baby?"

"Well, yeah if you do it that way!"

I will spare you the "that way" description as you might be eating and reading at the same time and I'm sure you've already had a clear picture of my cats at the foot of our bed covering their innocent lil' eyes with their paws.

So... as I was saying, we're on the side...

We finish up rather nicely and I turn around to ask Joe just how he thought it was going to hurt the baby, and even though he didn't have a very good reason, I could tell we were down to ONE safe position for the remainder of the pregnancy.

One More Time... Reeeal Slooowwwww.

2008-09-23T14:55:00.000-04:00

Not 15 days ago I blogged about how fast my pregnancy seemed to be going. I was lamenting at how I was in double digits to the birth. That was when there was only 95 days left. Today there are 80. Well actually I did the math and realize my counter is a bit off. There's 78 days until the "due date."

I can't help but feel that time has now slowed down to a snail's pace. Maybe it's because I feel more ready than ever to have the baby. (I could be crying a different tune when the contractions start). It seems like so long ago that I was complaining how quickly it went, when in actuality, it was a mere two weeks ago.

I know I should not be rushing. Afterall, there is so much to do at work before maternity leave. I'm working on a really big project and I have to have three big events planned before I leave. There's plenty to do to occupy my time and keep me busy while I wait to pop out this kid... but why can't I give birth tomorrow?

I think I know what's going on here. I've had a relatively easy 6 months. Now, at the 6 1/2 month mark, I am starting to feel pregnant. My belly is getting pretty damn heavy. When I get up too quickly from the sofa or whatever I'm sitting or laying on, I have a weird sense that I am actually crushing my baby in my rush of motion. I can feel when his head or perhaps rolled up body is in a certain place or at a certain inconvenient angle.

I have heart burn. Oh boy, do I have heart burn. I haven't decided to modify my eating habits though based on the fire burning in my chest. Last night I made curry chicken for dinner. My husband walked in the house, smelled the curry, and just shook his head at me.

"You're a masochist," he said.

"You're just learning this now," I asked.

Damn, it was good... Being as though my giant uterus is pushing my stomach up into my rib cage, I got heart burn pretty bad last night. Nothing four Tums didn't take care of though.
Today I took a walk from my office to my bank, which is about five blocks from where I work. I decided to take the walk at a busy pace, afterall, I do need the exercise. I ran into one of my employees (someone who knows a little bit about kids, since she has three).

"Waddling up the street kind of fast for a pregnant lady, aren't you," she asked.

I blew her off. C'mon, it's not going to kill me.

The five blocks to the bank went smashingly. The five blocks back? Not so much. It was a real task for me to get back to the building. By the third block back I was walking so slow and I could have sworn I was limping a little. For some reason my left leg was a bit cramped. I wasn't out of breath as much as out of energy.

The fact that I get no sleep doesn't help much. Joe has started to hint that I keep him up, which he's been really good at not doing in the first and second trimesters. This trimester is completely different though. My trips to the bathroom at twenty times more frequent, and my tossing and turning is non-stop. Oh... and is it just me, or is hotter than Africa in our bedroom at night? Oh yeah. It is me. Joe keeps saying, "It's not the room, it's your hot flashes." This makes me laugh because he has no idea what he's talking about. They're not hot flashes. I'm not 60 years old.

So yeah... I'm feeling the effects of the third trimester and the fact that time is going by so slow now makes the effects seem worse I guess. Alas, I'm still not one to complain to anyone... just err, I just write about it all here instead.

Why I Love and Loathe My Husband.

2008-09-18T11:27:00.000-04:00

For the past six months, I have been getting bigger and bigger. More swollen and swollen. More anxious and anxious. But, the one thing I haven't gotten is bitchy or emotional.

Last night, I was feeling very unprepared. Sure, Joe's working on the nursery, but then he drops the bomb on me that my mother-in-law or sister-in-law may want to come stay for a week after the baby is born. That means my house needs to be pretty damn presentable. I'm a pregnant lady who still works two jobs. When am I going to get the house presentable? I was wigging out about it. I know I was only really wigging out that much because I was a little hormonal, which by the way is the first time in 6 months that I've used that as an excuse for being upset about anything. I'm sure a majority of pregnant chicks pull the hormonal card all the time.

So, I decided to tackle the dining room table, which is piled high with stacks of papers (most of it crap) that I needed to get out of the guest room... because I hear now that we may have visitors. So, there I was shredding papers, and throwing the blank envelopes into a trash bag, when Joe asked, "What are you doing with the envelopes and things you aren't shredding?"

Ok, take a deep breathe and answer him. You know what his response will be, but try to be nice...

"I'm throwing them in the trash," I said and held my breathe waiting for the inevitable comment, which came not two seconds later.

"Do you want us to get fined? We have to recycle all that stuff."

My husband is the only person I know that will recycle an empty envelope. I'm not kidding. He bundles all of this shit in his spare time... But alas, he has no spare time, so the shit sits around the house for months. I kid you not. MONTHS! It drives me crazy. Who the frig is going to go through our black garbage bag and be appalled that I threw a blank envelope out and demand that we are fined?

"I am not recycling that crap, honey. You're lucky I'm shredding this stuff," I said through clentched teeth. "I just want to get it done, and this is how it's going to get done. Don't start with me about it - Please."

Apparently, he didn't realize that I was hormonal. (Again, not that I would have admitted to it.) So, he didn't expect me to be so curt.

"Why are you getting pissed off about something so small," he asked.

Something so small? There's a ton of shit around the house that needs to get done. I'm in a nesting mode that I can't do much about because he won't let me do half the shit that needs to get done because of my so-called delicate condition... and here I am doing the one thing I can do... sit, go through junk paperwork, clean off the dining room table so I can take back the eating area from the clutter, and he gives me shit because I'm not recycling blank envelopes! At that moment in time, it was a huge deal to me. I was suddenly feeling productive and better about the whole situation and he pisses in my Corn Flakes? I couldn't have that.

So, yeah I was pissed off.

"Look, just take it all out of the trash bag and pile it on the table, and I'll take care of it later," he said.

Take it back out of the trash and pile it back on the table?

So, here I am insiting that he stops watching the Mets, who were fucking losing to the Nationals, which is like losing to the Bad News Bears, and go downstairs to do some laundry while I took his precious recyclable paper out of the trash bag for him to bundle weeks later, only after I've blown my lid that he hasn't done it yet.

So as I was listening to the hum of the washer downstairs and Joe cleaning the litter box, I am getting teary eyed as I pull blank empty envelopes, coupons, old greeting cards (anything made from a tree, people) out of the trash bag and pile them on the same table I just felt productive about getting them off of. But, at the same time, I'm giggling to myself because it's utterly rediculous to be teary eyed over this small occurance.

So yeah, I was having a moment and Joe just wouldn't let me get away with it. I admire him for that to a degree. But part of me hates him for it as well. LOL.

Think About The Children?

2008-09-08T22:37:00.002-04:00

I hate solicitation calls. I should have put our number on the Do Not Call List, but I never did. I hope it's not too late.

Today however, I received a solicitation call that I wish I had not hung up on.

It came from a Star Ledger sales rep. It went like this.

Me: "Hello"

SL: "Hi Ma'm, my name is XX from the Star Ledger. I'm calling you tonight because I've been authorized to offer you delivery of the Sunday paper for just $1.99."

Me: "We're not interested."

SL: "The Sunday paper for $1.99 is a great deal. How can you not be interested, ma'am?"

Me: "Well sorry, but we're just not interested. You have a nice night though."

SL: "But Ma'am, think about the children."

Me: "Goodbye." - click!

So, yeah I hung up the phone. But his last comment of, "Ma'am think about the children," is truly haunting me. What did he mean by that? I can't stop giggling and repeating the line. I've been scratching my head all night. I'd like to go to the Star Ledger website to see if there's a special fundraiser they're doing.

Where was he going with that statement? Was he about to tell me that the $1.99 Star Ledger was going to support starving children in some third world country? Was it going to go toward Christmas presents for children whose parents are serving in Iraq or orphans? I'm definitely stumped.

Damn, I wish he would call back.

Political Blog

2008-08-29T12:14:00.000-04:00

This blog post is not about my burgeoning belly, cankles, or even sex toys. I know. It's a little weird for you to grasp… but I'm going to blog politics this morning. Nothing too deep, as if poltical science gets deep.

Last night as I watched Obama's historic nomination acceptance speech I was of course proud of the milestone of an African American man accepting the nomination for President. His speech was well written and delivered, even if it did have a quite a few fantasies embedded. It's a good thing for democrats, that Americans can be quite dumb and emotional. Tax breaks for 95% Americas? Great! (How will he pay for this, I wonder, when he's also ensuring that he will take away tax breaks and incentive from big bad corporations. The same corporations, I might add that employ those Americans. Sure, they'll get a tax break, but they'll also get a salary and/or benefit break, won't they.) Don't get me started.

Then he boosts about the number of job increases in America under Clinton. (Well sure… the Government hired them all. So let's see under Clinton, Government only got bigger, as well as the bill for Government pensions. And I thought we wanted less government and less cost of running Government. We should be talking about big bad government... not big bad corporations.)
Oh… and he also promised to release America of our dependency on foreign oil in ten years? That's not a very long time, pal. Just how does he intend to maneuver this through a divided congress or senate in enough time to fulfill this lofty promise?

I think I liked Obama better before he said he would do anything, and just chanted "Yes, we Can," because all I could think of last night, was how "he most likely can't" but he looked and sounded good, with the very presedential backdrop to his speech.

The best part of the speech was of course when he talked about Americans elisted and how they are fighting for not just red, not just blue… but red, white and blue. I did like the "Eight is Enough" tag line he coined. Give his speech writer another cookie today.

Now… onto the smart parts of Obama's speech last night. He took some pretty good jabs at McCain. (For the record, I'm not a big McCain fan. I think he is the wrong choice for the nomination. I was totally in Romney's corner.) Why was this smart? Well, now McCain, despite any speech he may have prepared or message he wanted to get across during his own nomination acceptance speech at next week's Republic convention, he will now be on the defensive, and no one ever looks good on the defensive.

But the old guy had a trick up his sleeve didn't he? I said last night to my hubby, that I thought McCain would have to do something soon to gat people talking.. and he did. Not only did he announce his running mate the very next morning, but his running mate is a woman. No one is talking about Obama and his speech anymore! Hype that should have gone on for days has been pretty much fizzled, but McCain's announcement.

And who is she? Someone who brings youthfulness to his ticket and that freshness that Obama brings to his. Sarah Palin is a virtual unknown out of Alaska, which is a bit scary, but I'll tell you what I do like about her.

She's a businesswoman. We need business savvy in the Whitehouse. She also defeated an incumbent for Gov. of Alaska, which shows that she is a winner. It's never easy to defeat an incumbent unless you've really got something good to offer. She's a Governor! Not a senator or congressman! She has experience running an administration from the top! The other thing I like about her, is she has a proven track record of trying to remove America from dependency on foreign oil. Something Obama is promising… She's already doing. She was able to get the construction of a 1700 mile pipeline approved between Alaska and Canada for natural gas. It will be the biggest construction project in Northern America to ever get done! That's impressive anyway you slice it!

Do I know anything else about her, aside from her having five children, pretty varied in age? Nope. But I'm definitely going to watch this one closely.

I kept joking that McCain should pick Condi Rice as a running mate because he would then have an African American and a woman on his ticket. As much as I am against women voting for someone people they are a woman, I believe that McCain just got a feather in his cap amongst women-voters.

Smart! Very smart!

Fat and Happy As an Ox!

2008-08-08T14:31:00.001-04:00

I never knew, nor do I today, where the expression, "Healthy as an ox" came from. Anyone? Anyone?

Anyhow, four weeks ago the vampire at my doctor's office took 7 vials of blood to run a bunch of tests. Over 90 different ailments are tested for including STDs... and I am happy to say I am ailment free. Woo Hoo. This means I can have a regular ole' vaginal birth!

I didn't know this but if you have certain ailments... particularly an STD like herpes, you are automatically scheduled for a C-Section. It's good to know I am herpes free! LOL. Alert the World!

They also test for other conditions, which may be harmful to me or the baby during pregnancy or delivery, and as my doc, put it. I'm healthy! Healthy as an ox.

The only thing left to test for is high sugar. In four week, I'll be 26 weeks along. I'll have to drink a glucose soda (which my doctor told me tastes like shit), and then an hour later they have to draw blood to test my sugar.

After that, the last blood I'll be giving will be...err... on the delivery table. Eewww.

I was however a bit surprised that I didn't have some sort of issue being as though I'm overweaight. I figured there would certainly be something wrong with me. But I guess the answer to the question, "Can you be fat and healthy," is YES.

Oh and the other big news (at least to me) is that I've only put on 14 pounds since I've been pregnant. This is a very good number. I am on target to put on about 30 lbs. Not bad, since I know people who put on 60-65 lbs.

By popular demand... a pregnancy pic

2008-08-06T15:16:00.005-04:00

I tried to avoid it, but a few people have requested that I just stop being a pussy and post the pregnancy picture no matter how much water I'm retaining... No matter how fat my face is... No matter how fat I am in general.

So... here goes... 4 1/2 months pregnant....

drum roll....

Oh wait! I just can't do it.

Will you settle for a picture of my cankles? Look at those toes. Even they're swollen!

It's The Triple Lindy!!!

2008-08-04T15:02:00.004-04:00

Ok so you remember the movie "Back to School" with Rodney Dangerfield? Remember the Triple Lindy, the dive that he does in the end of the movie where he jumps from diving board to diving board?

Well, I think baby Merrick (that's our little man's name) is practicing the Triple Lindy in my belly. Some days he doesn't move much, but from this morning on... Whew, he's either trying out for the Olympic gymnastics team or taking up Tae Bo in there. (C'mon kid, exercise enough for the both of us.)

On another note... My friend Felicia asked me to post a pregnant picture. You know the ones...where petite cute gals have pictures snapped of their profiles while they are craddling their adorable baby bumps. Well, I tried... and none of them look cute. Instead they look like Free Willy holding his massive blubber, so I say no to posting a pregnancy picture. You'll just have to use your imaginations... and I know I've already painted a pretty vivid picture for you.

And on ANOTHER side note... I heard on the radio this morning that Hoboken is 57% single people. I guess the bars aren't working. You would think they would move to where the rents are more reasonable.

And on my final side note (I promise), why can't I wake up my husband with my laughing and get away with it? Two nights ago I was watching Mr. Woodcock. It's not very funny, but I couldn't help it... Perhaps it was my sleep deprivation... I laughed at the ending scene where Sean Williams Scott is running and pushing the eerily botoxed Billy Bob Thornton on the hospital gurney and he hits the pot hole sending him flipping over on his face. Forgive me, I laughed out loud. Joe was slumbering peacefully and I woke him. He was not happy. But why is ok for him to wake me up to point out some home improvement technique he is admiring on a DYI show, or his girlfriend Amy Matthews, when I know he'll never try his hand at that home improvement technique and I have way bigger boobs than Amy Matthews! Hrrph!

Buy Me Stuff? Ugh

2008-07-30T11:55:00.003-04:00

Last night I registered at Babies R Us. This was a pretty damn overwhelming experience. First of all, I was in the store for more than two hours clicking UPC codes for items that I felt it was necessary to justify before I scanned them.

"I'm telling you. Get the video monitor," said Andrea.

"I don't want to register for a $150 baby monitor," I said.

"Don't worry about it," Andrea said. "There will be some people who come to your shower who will want to spend that kind of money on the gift."

"I don't think so."

In the end, I ended up registering for the $60.00 two handset baby monitor which according to my standards was perfect for what we need. However the pressure and/or reaction to register for anything and everything is there. Call it the power of the handheld scanner. It was a good thing I wasn't registering for designer handbags or shoes.

I felt very weird registering for all of it actually. When I got married, lots of people asked if I was going to register anywhere. I didn't even want a bridal shower. I couldn't in good conscience, register for things that I either already had (albeit a cheaper version), or didn't necessarily need, like expensive china or crystal merely because I was getting married and people should spend money on me.

But here there I was at Babies R Us last night scanning away, and at times really enjoying it. The difference is these are all things that we do need and really couldn't afford to buy all at once or probably even gradually. All the items put together add up to a little over $3,000. Whoa! Do I really need all of those things? When I sat down and looked at all of the items, I could pretty much justify all of them save one or two, like the Mets blanket and bibs I impulsively scanned for Papa Joe. I probably didn't need to register for the couple outfits that I did, but they were just too cute and it would be nice to get a head start on the baby's wardrobe, and Andrea, the queen shopper did remind me that I needed to get a nice outfit for the baby to come home from the hospital in. (Was that a good enough justification? I don't know.)

There were a few things I felt really awkward registering for… like the Playtex dual electric breast pump. I didn't feel awkward because it's a breast pump. Breastfeeding is a very natural thing and it's a choice that Joe and I made together. The awkwardness comes from the cost of the pump. Its $199 smackers! Who the hell is going to spend that money?"

"Don't worry," said Andrea. "Someone will buy it or go in with another person to split the cost. And if they don't you can purchase is after your shower at 10% off since you registered for it and it wasn't bought." So I registered for it. Andrea is good at convincing me to spend more money even when it's not my money. Although I did hear that you could rent breast pumps. They are sanitized and top notch and pump in a faster time... so that's something to consider. Ok, ok, so I snuck in some nipple cream as a bit of a joke at first, but then I realized I'll probably really need it.

So, when I went home last night, Joe and I took a look at the registry online. He made a few suggestions, which resulted in me taking off a few things and adding different things and then I spent a good hour on Target.com looking for the same items. I was thinking that if I found the same items for cheaper, I would register for those things on Target.com and remove them from Babies R Us so I can save everyone money. There were only two items and the difference was only a few dollars, so I guess I'll stick to the Babies R Us registry.

Well, there you have it; yesterday was my moment of weakness. I did register for lots of stuff for our little man and I don't know what people will end up buying or what I'll end up buying after all this is over, but I did it and I still feel awkward about it.

It's A... Penis

2008-07-30T11:46:00.003-04:00

"I definitely know what you're having," said the ultrasound techinician at St. Claire's hospital in Denville yesterday. "Do you want to take a guess?"

Although I didn't want to hazard a guess, Joe was pretty sure he was looking at a penis.
We're having a boy. It was pretty surreal. First of all, the fact that she was pointing out internal organs and things like femur bones, was weird enough. Then to be face to errr, face with your son's penis on a little tv screen, was definitely an interesting moment to say the least. But... a happy moment.

After all, I'm getting what I want... A little man. Even though Joe and I both suspected from day one that we were having a boy, call it an intution, I think Joe secretly wanted a little girl. Five months ago his neice Amanda was born and I think it tickled him pink to see his brother-in-law Frank in awe of his little girl.

But at least Joe will now have someone to watch the Mets with. God, I hope he doesn't grow up liking the Yankees. Joe would be hartbroken.

The next question of course is, Did you pick out names. We've been talking about names for quite some time even though I'm only halfway through the pregnancy. And we do have a name picked out. I could say that it's a secret, but I've already told a number of people so it's not a secret.

Our little man's name will be Merrick Alfredo. Merrick is a welsh name (I'm Welsh and Polish) and Alfredo is Joe's deceased dad's name. We're very happy with the name. We wanted something a little different but not awkward. We can always call him Rick for short if he gets picked on at school. Thank God Joe went for Merrick, because he was really pushing for Marcus and I wasn't liking that name one bit.

So there... a little man!

Natural Child Birth?

2008-07-23T11:07:00.003-04:00

A lot of friends, although after their advice I might call them adversaries, have been telling me to consider Natural Childbirth.

After I finish laughing uncontrollably, I took them in the eye and say...

"Hell, no."

Someone actually said to me, "Well, I hear it's like taking a really large shit, and then the pain is gone and you barely remember it."

"Well good," I said. "You go ahead and take the shit. I'm getting the epidural."

On a side note, this is someone who doesn't have a children, so how would she know, and how can she offer advice on childbirth?

I must admit, I've gotten quite curious about natural child birth. So, I've watched a few videos. The funny thing is, I can't seem to find any full legth, full depiction videos. They are all editted clips.

There's a clip of the husband sitting behind the wife. His hands are on her belly. He's breathing with her. The camera zooms in on his fingers entwined around the mother's fingers. It's such a lovely scene.

Then there's a clip of a woman in the bath tub, resting easily. Her family is around her offering her words of encouragement.

Then there's a clip of the baby's head emerging and quickly it's all over. The baby is born. Everyone is crying. The mom is smiling.

The strange thing is... there is no audio in these clips, other than peaceful music played over the film. This, no doubt is to prevent soon-to-be moms like me from hearing the crys and screams of agony from mother's who very vocally are now asking if there's anyway they can get some drugs. And I dont' blame them. As peaceful as this whole thing looks in these natural childbirth propaganda pieces, it still strike me as extrutiatingly unbearable.

So, I'm looking up videos on how epidurals are administered and when the absolute last moment is that you can request it before giving birth, because I want to be prepared to get the goods!

I want to thank all my friends, who turned me onto Natural Childbirth. I now see the light and realize that you are all fucking insane.

Me Thinks, They've Gone Too Far

2008-07-14T12:29:00.004-04:00

Well, the New Yorker got just what they wanted... We're all talking about their satirical publication.

I've been accused of not giving people enough credit. However, I stand by my theory that many people in this world are as dumb as a piece of cheese, and therefor will not get the joke intended by The New Yorker with this week's cover. Although I believe in freedom of speech, expression and press, I also believe in "responsibility" and this is a very irresponsible cover.

Obama in the Muslim garb sitting in the oval office, would have been satirical enough, but why did they have to put a painting of Bin Laden over the fireplace and an American Flag burning in the fire? This was just plain offensive and in bad taste. I don't necessarily agree with Obama on many fronts but I respect him and what he is trying to bring to the Country.

Although the same issue is supposed to contain a positive article about Obama's campaign, this is clearly just the New Yorkers' way of covering their asses while attempting to sell as many magazines as they can.

"Woo Hoo," Said My Husband

2008-07-09T21:51:00.003-04:00

Today, I stopped by Marshalls on my way home from work. Oh, how I love Marshalls. Sadly, they don't carry maternity clothes so I purchased a few 1x blouses to make up for that.

What I ventured to Marshalls for in the first place however, were bras! Yup... They're getting bigger. In just four months I've gone up a whole cup size. I can't wait to see how big they are at 9 months.

"Honey, I've gone from a C-cup to a D-cup," I said upon entering the house with a bag that was suspiciously larger than one for just bras. In fact is was just the right size for two blouses, a pair of flat shoes to match, a pair of pants, a skirt, and three new (large) bras. Joe noticed said bag size and was about to remark, but I quickly distracted him with my huge ten pound melons. (I don't think they really weigh ten pounds... Well, maybe together they do.)

"Woo Hoo," he said.

Sure, he doesn't have to walk around with them. Oh wait, who am I kidding? He has man boobs. It's called unconditional love, people. And, I'm really embellishing a lot here. They are not that big. Maybe just a B cup... Ok, ok... an A-cup.

I kid. I kid. They're not that big at all.

Do you all think my husband reads this blog? *Crosses fingers and suddenly finds Jesus*

So anyway, yeah... I'm a D cup now. What an awesome, and horrible thing.

Just a Couple Quick Notes and Questions

2008-07-07T13:53:00.007-04:00

1. How come no one informed me that there were new words to Happy Birthday? I knew about the cha cha cha bit, but yesterday my Uncle, Aunt and Cousin called and left me a voicemail (on my b-day, by the way) and they sang Happy Birthday. It was really quite sweet... but they called me a cow! Is that normal? They know I'm pregnant! Tell me it's normal and not a shot at my slowly deflating self esteem.

2. My new niece throws up all the time. She eats. She pukes. She eats. She pukes. I don't know how she gains any weight. Sometimes she regurgitates and it is funny to see the look on her face as she swallows what she just spit up in her mouth. (ugh)

3. Since when do rated PG 13 movies permit the f-bomb? Maybe it's because I'm becoming a parent; I don't know. But I was thoroughly shocked that Hancock dropped the F-Bomb twice. I saw this movie yesterday and not far from me was a parent and probably and 11-year-old kid. Although the reviews were just "ok" I've got to tell you, I thought it was pretty good. I give it a thumbs up.

4. In two weeks time, I will be setting tile in my bathroom downstairs. My husband has had long enough to do it. The tile has been in our foyer for a year. The floor had been ripped out at about the same time we bought the tile. It's taken him a year to take down the trim, spakle the walls... and do absolutely nothing else. So, I have put him on notice, that his pregnant wife will be inhaling fumes and laying tile in two weeks time if it is not done by then. He was not pleased with the ultimatum, but I think he got the message. I will be suprised if it is not done by then. I would also be suprised if he thinks I'm bluffing.

5. Why is nursery furniture so expensive if the kids grow out of it so fast? I'm going to widdle a crib out of some wood, I think.