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[scene: Molly & James on couch, watching "Rock of Love Bus with Bret Michaels." Patrick in bouncy seat.]
James: I think he should pick Mindy. I like her or Taya. And whoever that one is with the tattoo on her ... lower stomach area ... that points to her ... uh ...
Molly: I have stretch marks there. That's like the same thing.
Dear Patrick,
I had an idea of what I was in for when I had a baby and committed to breastfeeding (or trying) for at least three months (which is why I waited 28 years to get pregnant). But what I did not count on was this tendency of yours to eat until you appear sated, until you appear drunk on milk, smiling (gas, whatever) and drooling and nearly asleep, and then, when I try to move you, you turn into a squalling ball of distress. I think half the time you just like sucking on something. The other half you are still legitimately hungry, which is okay, but dammit, just eat. Don't tease your mother into thinking you are done.
Because you do this, I am going to tell the internet that you like your balls blow-dried. The reason I know this is because you had diaper rash, and I read that I should clean your little bum with warm water and blow it dry. So I dutifully tried this, and buddy, you love it. Now whenever I can't get you to stop crying, I blow dry your balls. It works like a charm. Every time. They won't do that at daycare, by the way, and I bet your future girlfriends won't like this little habit of yours.
Always remember, son, payback's a bitch.
Love,
Mommy
Dear Patrick,
Today you discovered your thumb. You had been cramming your entire fist into your mouth, then you sort of realized that maybe an index finger was sufficient. But today, today you tried to suck on your index finger and accidentally stuck it up your nose instead -- and voila! Your thumb was in your mouth. I think it was just because you couldn't figure out how to remove your finger from your nose. You really are Daddy's boy. I was so proud.
Love, Mommy
p.s. Please stop crying.
or, Why I Might Choose Differently Should I Find Myself In This Situation Again
~~~~~
Phlebotomist: So, just to verify, you weigh 1xx?
Molly: [OH MY GOD NO WAY PLEASE NO] Uh, well, I had asked not to be told but if that's what my chart says, I'm sure it's right.
P: Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't know.
M: That's okay.
P: You don't look like you weigh that much. I would never guess that. I mean, look at me. I wish I weighed that.
~~~~~
Phlebotomist: Is it okay if I put this tape on your arm?
Molly: Sure.
P: You have really hairy arms.
M: ...
P: I do too. I'm part Native American. But I never thought I would meet anyone who had hairier arms than me.
M: Huh.
P: And I have sideburns, too, see?
~~~~~
Nurse: So how have you been feeling?
Molly: Well, I had a cold over the weekend, so that wasn't fun, but I feel fine.
N: On a scale of 0-10, what's your pain?
M: Uhh....zero?
N: Is this your first?
M: Yes.
N: So you don't know how bad it's going to get.
M: Erm. ... No. ... My mom said she had an easy time of it. I'm hoping I will too.
N: You know that's not genetic.
M: Well, yes, but I'm hoping.
N: My mother was only in labor for two hours but it took me 24.
M: Mmm.
N: (looking at chart) So you're, what, 27-28 weeks?
M: Um...almost 32.
N: [walks out]
~~~~~
I really meant to do this a long time ago.
Here we have six weeks (in my streaky mirror at home in the bathroom) and 26 weeks (in DC on Labor Day). I really should have been more mindful of the wrinkles in the six-weeks shot, as it makes me look rather poochy. I could have done five weeks instead; it's a smoother silhouette, but I'm not wearing the pink tank top and also I liked the parallels of 6 and 26. I'm weird like that.
*Today is 31 weeks, 5 days. 31 was also Bo Hart's number the year I worked for the Redbirds. Ah, good times. Anyway, getting back to my point, I have photos from my baby shower over the weekend but I haven't uploaded them yet. Hopefully I will do so this weekend, but based on my track record, I might not post them until the baby's here...
I love Tom Glavine. I know this comes as no surprise to anyone, but that Atlanta uniform, #47, it makes me like baseball again. Not that I stopped liking it, exactly, but it had lost its magic.
Which brings me to my next point.
+++++
My mom and I went shoe-shopping on Saturday. You see, when I went shopping with Marcy on Good Friday, I had seen this pair of shoes that just screamed my name. However, being good-budgeting-Molly, I decided that I had enough similar shoes (that had screamed my name in the past), and I didn't buy the shoes. Then, last week, it was a really nice day and I went to grab some of my cute similar shoes out of the closet, and that is when I realized that when the puppy got into my closet that one time, he actually got his paws (by which I mean teeth) on FOUR pairs of shoes instead of two as I had originally thought. I am having some trouble adjusting to the puppy (I am slowly realizing that it is quite likely that I will never really love him, just tolerate him) so I decided to have some shop therapy and buy the shoes.
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Then I saw another pair, and another, and before you know it, I was grabbing the huge mesh bag that DSW provides, because Mom had two pairs, too. It was a successful day. Also, it makes me miss living in civilization. I always thought I would do okay as a country sort, and I would, if only the country had a Target within five miles. And if that Target had a Starbucks. I had neither of these things within 20 miles of me now. It is awful.
Anyway, we were shopping at the DSW by New Hope Commons (if anyone local reads my blog), where I used to go all the time with my best friend Kristen when we were in high school, because that dark time was before the evil Southpoint was built. (Just kidding, I love Southpoint. Not its parking but hey, whatever.) No one really goes to New Hope Commons anymore, unless they are going to Wal-Mart. But across the street, there is another shopping center, newer, with a DSW and a Kohl's and a Panera. (I love Panera.) So when we stopped at the Barnes & Noble at New Hope, it was for the first time in a very long time. (B&N's at Brier Creek and Southpoint, y'know.) We were basically finishing up there, because you know how I love my sweet coffee drinks. We headed over to the cafe. There was the cashier, the barista, and someone else stocking the bake case. There were a couple of people ahead of us in line. And the cashier was bitching and moaning. She didn't have anyone to close. Waah. She wasn't going to be able to leave on time. Waah. You know, I am all about bitching about work, but you don't do that in front of customers. And then, when it was our turn, she was STILL bitching, and she was whining about her evening being ruined so that she was not only downright rude to us, but also screwed up my drink. I asked for a non-fat mocha. She didn't give me nonfat. I would have complained because she was such a bitch about it, except it was so damn good. I don't know why I even try to eat well/count calories. Where does it get me? Nowhere. *Sigh.*
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Yesterday I attended a course entitled “Presenting Data and Information.” Let’s call the presenter “Edward Tufte” because … that is his name (™ Bridget Jones). I should start with a disclaimer of sorts: I actually thought this course was interesting and possibly useful. Now, onto the fun stuff, a timeline of the day’s events!
8:05 a.m. – Leave house for ridiculously long drive; course is located near previous apartment, far from current residence in east bumfuck.
8:35 a.m. – Realize that exit for local shopping center is coming up, local shopping center that contains Starbucks.
8:36 a.m. – Decide against taking exit; company may not want to pay for coffee since already ate breakfast at home.
8:42 a.m. – Almost to course’s location. Realize that right turn will take me to Harris Teeter that contains Starbucks. Ponder situation at red light.
8:43 a.m. – Decide against turning right to Starbucks.
8:48 a.m. – Right turn: course. Left turn: Starbucks. Decide to turn right. Wish had not moved to east bumfuck as used to live in Starbucks heaven.
8:50 a.m. – Miss turnoff for course on badly marked road. Next turn will take me to Starbucks.
8:51 a.m. – Starbucks, here I come.
8:55 a.m. – Arrive Starbucks.
8:56 a.m. – Depart Starbucks with tall decaf nonfat no-whip mocha. (Tall because it is on company card, decaf in honor of Babywatch ’08, nonfat, no-whip in honor of Workout watch ’08.)
8:57 a.m. – Spill Starbucks down front of sweater. Sigh. At least have cardigan to hide unsightly coffee stain.
9:05 a.m. – Arrive at course. Parking lot is full, but field next to lot is apparently the place to be. Register and sit down to do pre-reading and enjoy the rest of my mocha.
9:41 a.m. – Course, supposed to start at 10, is becoming quite full. Blonde woman comes up to my row (third from back, end seat), says to guy next to me, “Want some company?” What about me, I seethe privately, I don’t want any company.
9:59 a.m. – Unwelcome neighbor whacks elbow with coursebook. Seems unconcerned. Seethe privately.
10:02 a.m. – Course starts with presentation featuring a visual display of a Chopin melody. Think: “Ooh, it’s like guitar hero!”
10:25 a.m. – Realize ET is reading directly from his book.
10:26 a.m. – Ha! “ET”!
10:30 a.m. – ET announces, “If you parked across the street, you’re screwed. Go move your car.” Half of section slinks out.
10:35 a.m. – ET promises shorter meetings if follow his protocol. Think: “Buddy, you don’t know [evil empire].”
11:00 a.m. – Hmm. There was some indication of box lunch outside. It would be easier to just get that, but Neomonde is so close, and would be so much better. Is Neomonde open? It didn’t look open when I drove by on the way here.
11:25 a.m. – Ooh, he said sports data. You know, I think there’s a Spring Training game televised today. Stupid Japan game. They can’t start the season overseas. It’s America’s game!
11:26 a.m. – ET utters the words that will make me question everything else he says: “If the people who read the sports section can understand a chart, then anyone can.” I don’t think I like what he’s implying. Hmph.
11:30 a.m. – This place is a ballroom? Do people actually use it as such? It’s awful, industrial, bad paint job, hey, there’s a splotch of paint missing on that pillar. Whoa, there’s a temporary wall partition they can use. C L A S S Y. And just look at that switchplate…
11:31 a.m. – Crap. Lunch isn’t until 1.
11:35 a.m.-11:57 a.m. – Break. Overheard in coffee line, “What is this line for? Where are the informative graphics?” Only free stuff provided at course is water, coffee, tea, crackers and chocolaty-chip cookies. Return to find unwelcome neighbor standing behind MY chair, swaying.
12:10 p.m. – Maybe I could change my Flickr page so that it is just favorites, since I am too cheap to actually pay for a subscription.
12:13 p.m. – Consider perils of visiting ATM in Durham after course is over.
12:35 p.m. – ET’s minion brings around his 400-year-old copy of Euclidean geometry book. Notice that when ET displayed book, he held it in his hands; however minion has on white gloves.
12:45 p.m. – FOOD FOOD FOOD FOOD FOOD
12:57 p.m. – Minion is back, this time with book by Galileo, from 1613.
1:04 p.m. – Decide on title for next installment of autobiographical novel: “Molly’s Last Adventures as a Single Girl”
1:20 p.m. – Finally, lunch! Box lunch at course contains barbecue and banana pudding for $8. Box lunch at Neomonde consists of hoummous sandwich, tabbouleh and fatoush with a piece of baklava for $8. Much better. Coming back, notice that sign in parking lot reads, “Lot Full – Use Adjacent Lots.” Just not the adjacent lots across the street, huh.
2:23 p.m. – Lunch runs long as ET is signing autographs. Unwelcome neighbor and her neighbor are having discussion on diving. Text message Nancy and Sarah.
3:06 p.m. – Notice unwelcome neighbor has folder labeled “Latino Communications.”
3:15 p.m. – ET announces, “If you parked in the street, please move. The police are in the process of shooting your car.”
3:20 p.m. – ET announces, “Now the fire marshal is here. Some of you were very creative with your parking. Stay tuned.” He probably means the people who blocked others in. C L A S S Y.
3:23 p.m. – Distracted by baseball sparklines, looking ahead in book.
3:29 p.m. – Distracted by sparkliness of my new wedding band.
3:40 p.m. – Bored now.
3:41 p.m. – Wonder if could gather books quietly and sneak out, thus avoiding sure-to-be-horrible traffic at end of course.
3:49 p.m. – Ooh, the windows in that engraving look like cinnamon rolls!
3:58 p.m. – ET announces, “If you are the driver of the Saturn Vue, license plate number xxx-xxxx, please move your car – you’re blocking someone.”
4:22 p.m. – Natives are VERY restless. Leaving early would be rude, but, damn, parking!
4:24 p.m. – ET says, “The best advice I ever received on making a presentation was to arrive early. The second best was to finish early.” But … we only have six minutes left and he’s not done talking?
4:29 p.m. – ET finishes early, barely.
4:37 p.m. – In car. Parking lot is nightmare. Traffic nearing rush hour is nightmare.
5:39 p.m. – Arrive back home in east bumfuck. Have put 71 miles on car. Do you know how much gas costs?
Atonement: I borrowed this book from a friend who had seen the movie and was sort of curious about the book (but hasn't read it yet). I heard the movie had a happy ending that was not present in the book, and I like happy endings, so there was already a strike against it. I started this one night when there was nothing on TV. I got about 11 pages in. I hated it. The writing was just way too heavy and heavy-handed. Last weekend, I picked up the book again. I had a couple days off for Easter and had ordered some books from Amazon but they hadn’t yet arrived. Anyway, the book got better, but my hatred for the main character (I think I can call her that) grew and grew and grew. Finally I finished Part One and skipped ahead to the end so I could be finished with the damn thing once and for all. Then I read “Mystery at the Ski Jump.” Much better.
Jennifer Weiner: I picked up Good in Bed when it came out, thought it was a good summer read, and passed it on to my mom. Then it took on a life of its own as she passed it to her sister, who then passed it to her whole book club, and everyone loved it. And, bonus, the author seemed really cool, and she wasn’t skinny and blonde, and, wow, this was perfect. So it was with much anticipation that I read In Her Shoes. And it was okay, I guess. I tried to pass it on to my mom, but she’d already read it from the library, and she didn’t want it. It remained on my shelf for a while, and then I noticed that Jennifer Weiner had a new book out, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to spend money on it. Then the movie version of In Her Shoes came out and I flat-out HATED it. A little while after that, I saw Little Earthquakes on clearance at the bookstore where I worked, and clearance + employee discount convinced me to try it out. LOVED IT. I still read it over and over. I was so happy; I thought In Her Shoes was just an unfortunate blip, and maybe it was me – lots of other people liked it. Goodnight Nobody followed, and, another clearance find, I bought and liked it as well. We were on a winning streak. By the time The Guy Not Taken came out, I was no longer working in the bookstore, but my mom offered to buy it for me on one of those mother-daughter shopping trips that I so love. I had such high hopes, and then the first story was a big let-down. And then the second story followed the same people from the first story. And then the third story was the same people, oh my God, will it ever end? Finally they were done, but the rest of the stories were just not that good. Still, I had the book, and so it sat on the shelf until last weekend when (as mentioned above) I had some time that I wanted to devote to reading. And I ran into the same problem. I just don’t like these stories. So now I am not sure what to do. Do I want to buy the next book? Or just write it off? (I am sure I will at least read it. I will try to buy it used or get it from the library or something. But it’s unsettling. How can some of the novels be so good, and some so … not-good?)
I Am Legend: James wanted to watch it. I had nothing better to do so I watched with him. I seem to recall a bunch of people talking about Tom Hanks carrying the whole movie in Castaway because it was him and the volleyball. Same thing here. I don’t know, it was kind of boring. And then these rabid vampire creatures? Weird. James is going to buy the movie. I am never going to watch it again.
Babywatch ’08: So this whole not-trying-not-to-get-pregnant is interesting. I can’t say “trying to get pregnant” because I really really really dislike failing. If I were actually trying to get pregnant, then every period would be a failure. But if I am just not actively preventing pregnancy, then whatever happens, happens. (See how pathetic I can be when I try to convince myself of things?) The last time I spoke of this, I mentioned that I was not really paying attention to these TTC things, I was not charting, blah blah blah. Well, right after that, I went out and bought a BBT thermometer. I am sure I could just have bought a digital thermometer but, you know, I like to go all out. That was on Valentine’s Day. I was also on Day 11 of my normally 35-day cycle. (If you don’t know what I am talking about, just stop reading now. Or google it.) So, AF was due on March 10. Which came and went, and there was no signs of impending menstruation. However, being the good little first-time charter, I noted that there was no temperature rise, and therefore I probably hadn’t ovulated, and OH MY GOD WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? Once my period was eight days late, I went over to the dollar store and bought a pregnancy test. I didn’t want to take it. I didn’t think I was pregnant, but confirming it would be – you guessed it – a failure. Predictably, it was negative. Promptly after that, my temperatures rose. Now I am assuming that I am at 6 DPO. This is too early to know anything, really. The whole problem I have is that now is not a good time to get pregnant. We can’t afford it. But is there ever a good time? Can we ever afford it? Can I be a stay-at-home-mom? Do I want to be? And then on top of all that, just thinking about it is weird – there is this two-week wait where you are in limbo. Did the sperm meet the egg? Is this little four-celled organism floating along my fallopian tube? Is this month already a bust and I don’t know it? Can I drink that cup of coffee? Because now that Lent is over, I don’t even have to feel guilty about it anymore. Blargh!
The Great Workout Plan ’08: Hahaha. I wish it was okay to be fat. You know, everybody tells you about the Freshman 15, but I was already a fat kid then so it didn’t really matter much. But then I did Tae-Bo and jogged an entire summer away and suddenly I could fit into regular sizes. This continued during my time in Houston, when I lived by a lovely park with a lovely three-mile running train, and into Memphis, where my apartment complex had a running trail, and I had motivation and a job that required me to be on my feet constantly and running up and down three flights of stairs regularly. I was even okay after I moved back to Durham because at the bookstore I was constantly running around helping hapless customers. It all started to go downhill when I got my current job with the evil empire. First I started eating crap food because I was working 60 hours a week, with a 30-minute commute in between two jobs, and it sucked. Then, I got a full-time gig at the desk job, which meant 40 sedentary hours a week. But I was still working part-time at the bookstore so the crap food continued. Until I got sick of the bookstore and quit the job but kept eating the crap food. Then it was Thanksgiving and then Christmas and then I met James, and we ate out a lot, and then we got married and now, getting back to my point, NO ONE TELLS YOU ABOUT THE MARRIAGE 15. Everyone nods, wisely, when you ask: oh yes, that happens to everyone. BUT NO ONE TELLS YOU BEFOREHAND. I have stopped the gain, but I cannot manage to make the scale go in the other direction. First I tried the Couch Potato to 5K running plan. This was going okay for about a month, but then it was Thanksgiving, and then Christmas – oh, you’ve heard this song before? – and oh by the way, we bought a house. Then, in February, I set out with renewed interest to work out, but after three weeks of trying to cut carbs and work out – Tae-Bo, walking, resistance bands – with no discernible effect, I got discouraged, and then it was Easter with the Reese’s peanut butter eggs, and that brings us to today. It is just that I love food and hate working out. Back to the grind. I hear Billy Blanks calling. I hate that man.
Unrelated non-review note: Happy Birthday Tom Glavine!
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