Last night at dinner, Mr. Baseball and I were talking with the Redhead about what he's been learning at Vacation Bible School this week. Here's how the conversation went...
RH: (something something something) Moses.
Me: Are you learning about Moses at Crocodile Dock?
RH: Yes.
Me: Did you talk about Moses and the Burning Bush?
RH: Yes.
Me: Did you talk about Moses and the Red Sea?
RH: No. God whisper to Moses...FUPRISE (surprise)!!!
Me and Mr. Baseball: (Laughing hysterically!)
I love the mind of a 2 1/2 year old. I really have no idea where these things come from but they are absolutely hysterical. Yes, God does surprise us sometimes. It could be through a burning bush, or it could be through a precious redhead who is like a little sponge when it comes to learning new things.
** WARNING - the following post contains discussion about and two year old and a certain male body part. Read at your own risk.
Kids say the darndest things.
On the potty the other night, the Redhead noticed that his 5th appendage had sprung to attention. He then got all excited about the fact that he could actually move it up and down after he peed. I stifled my laughter and called Mr. Baseball in to see. He, of course was most proud of this discovery.
I thought nothing else of this.
That afternoon we were at Big Lots shopping for bunk beds when the Redhead spies something out the front windows. Across the parking lot he saw some of the rides from a traveling fair moving up and down and said (in a voice loud enough for others to hear), "Mommy, ride go up down like penis.!" Mortified, I crouched by his side and gently reminded him that "...we only talk about our penis at home."
The next day, my mom, sister, and Baby Jack were visiting. I had run out to grab some Chick-Fil-A and while I was gone, another discussion regarding this body part ensued. My sister was sitting on the couch talking on the phone while moving her foot up and down. The redhead comments with enthusiasm to his "Nano" that "Aunt Sarah's foot moving up down like penis!" Keep in mind that "Nano" is in the dark about the discovery of the previous day. I did fill her in over lunch and she and my sister thought this was just about the funniest thing they had heard.
The Redhead was following the rules and talking about his business at home, but I had to be a little more specific and say that "...we only talk about our penis with mommy and daddy."
Isn't this starting a bit too early?
Tomorrow he'll probably ask me where babies come from. I need to be ready.
I am officially 10 weeks and 3 days today.
Wheeeeeeeeee!
I went to the doctor yesterday...wasn't able to hear the heartbeat yet, but the baby was moving. The doctor said she could hear the heartbeat whizzing by the doppler, but couldn't pinpoint it. It appears there may be a busy-body in my body. Either that or the baby already doesn't like doctors. Good thing we saw a strong heartbeat last week!
And FYI, peeing before you are weighed by the nurse doesn't really affect your weight at all. Stupid scale.
I also found out that my risk of getting pre-eclampsia is higher because I've had it before. Really only about 10-15%, but that still seems kind of high to me. I informed the doctor that I CANNOT go on bedrest this time since I will have a 2 1/2 year old to chase around. She laughed at me and said..."Okay, whatever." I can tell we're gonna get along great! She understands me.
My next appt. is April 29th and I'll be approx 14 1/2 weeks. Hopefully we'll get to hear a good heartbeat then.
And now for something COMPLETELY different (but still pregnancy related)...
Nan reminded me yesterday of a funny story from when I worked at the pregnancy care center.
When a woman would come in for a pregnancy test, we would first ask her certain questions and get to know her a little bit. The questions had to do with her periods, if she used birth control, what types of pregnancy symptoms she might have, and then we would start to talk about her support system and how she might feel about a possible pregnancy at that time.
This one client I had wasn't exactly the spiciest Dorito in the bag (if you know what I mean) and was trying to explain some of her symptoms to me. The conversation went something like this...
Me: What kinds of symptoms have you had?
Client (speaking very fast and with a very southern accent): Well, I've been feeling naw...naw...nawsuss...
Me: Nauseous?
Client: Well, yes. I've been vomicking a lot.
Me: (biting my lip and trying hard not to laugh) Oh, so you've also been vomiting?
Client: That's right.
This client also said another funny while I was with her. Often our clients, a good many of whom were unemployed or in desperate financial situations, would apply to receive Pregnancy Medicaid through the Department of Social Services (or DSS). Here's what she said about that.
Client (still speaking very fast and with very southern accent): So, I think I need to get some help with this pregnancy, like with money and all. I think I need to go to the Department of Service Services.
Me: (If I had had liquid in my mouth, she would have been wearing it) Oh, you mean the Department of Social Services? I'll give you a paper that will tell you what you need to take up there to get Medicaid.
She was a very sweet girl - not very well educated, but wanted to do what was best for her baby and I totally respect her for that. And she provided me with a couple good laughs. All in a day's work.
I'll be updating you all about things in the pregnancy and such as we go along. And I think maybe I'll ask the nurse to weigh me like this next time.
We've been practicing for weeks to get this right. Merry Christmas Ya'll!
Hey, get your mind out of the gutter...
a: a trip to get these bad boys...
While our family was together for Thanksgiving, we told the redhead about "Baby Jack" being in Aunt Sarah's belly (my sister is 5 months pregnant) and not only was he interested, but he went as far as to plant a sweet little kiss on her baby bump. (can you hear the collective "Awwwww, how cute..."?)
Later in the day, my entire family is sitting, deliriously stuffed, in the living room following our eat-a-thon and we ask the redhead who is in Aunt Sarah's belly.
He promptly responds in his cute as pie two-year-old voice, "Jaaacckk" and proceeds to lift Aunt Sarah's shirt to see her belly. We watch as he plants yet another kiss on Baby Jack and exclaim our oohs and aahs at how cute he is.
The redhead then climbs off the couch, goes straight to my mom, his "Nano", lifts her shirt and inquires in the same cute as pie two-year-old voice..."Jack?"
We peed our pants laughing - well maybe just Sarah since she's the only one with a "Baby Jack" in the belly.
The following story is true. Names have been changed to protect the innocent guilty.
I may have mentioned before that Mr. Baseball is the manager of a bank that happens to be inside a certain infamous super center that shall remain nameless. (Let me just say it's not even close to his dream job, but it pays the bills for now.) Fortunately the job is not without its - how shall I say this politely - "perks".
A woman (we'll call her "Miss Show-em-off") came into the bank yesterday with her 2 year-old daughter to open an account. One of Mr. Baseball's associates sat down at the desk and proceeded to help her. Since the bank is not large, Mr. Baseball could overhear the conversation and see exactly what was going on the whole time. He said that while Miss Show-em-off was seated, her little girl kept saying "Boob" and was attempting to get under her mother's shirt. Miss Show-em-off laughed it off and prevented her shirt from coming up over "the girls". Then, Miss Show-em-off told the bank associate, "She really wants the boob."
At this point, it is getting a little awkward, but you know toddlers, they'll do and say just about anything. Mr. Baseball is still watching from the sidelines, saying nothing. Then, Miss Show-em-off is finished at the desk and approaches the counter where Mr. Baseball is ready to cash her check and send her on her way with her money.
As he is counting out her bills, she (along with her daughter and the shopping cart) steps away from the counter. Mr. Baseball finishes counting the money and says, "Miss Show-em-off", you're all set."
Her response, "Oh, can you just bring it over here please?"
Mr. Baseball thought that was an odd request, but he obliged. As he gets over to Miss Show-em-off and her cart, he realizes a moment too late what she is doing. She totally has her shirt pulled up and is proceeding to lean forward and NURSE HER LITTLE GIRL WHILE THE CHILD IS SEATED IN THE SHOPPING CART!!!!
Yes, Mr. Baseball saw the boob and I am totally not happy about it.
According to another client of the bank, this is not an uncommon sight in this "super center".
Um.................I have never seen this with my own eyes and I'm there (*cough*) like every other day!
So, in efforts to avoid therapy and keep my marriage intact, I have decided to write Miss Show-em-off a letter to express my feelings about "the girls" showing up before my husband's very eyes.
Dear Miss Show-em-off,
First of all, let me say thank you for giving me some great blog fodder. You probably don't even know what that is, and will probably never read this post, but please know that I and my readers are grateful!
Now that that's out of the way, I have a few things thing to "get off my chest" (pun intended).
I totally didn't realize "the mart" had another eatery - a mobile breastaurant!
I am TOTAL proponent of nursing your children. I understand some women can't and/or don't want to, but I'm all for it. I for one, nursed my son for a year and had a wonderful experience.
HOWEVER, if I was ever in a public place when my child needed to nurse, I always did so with discretion (i.e. in a fitting room, restroom, or in a corner while covered with a blanket). Allow my friend, Mr. Webster to define the word "discretion" for you.
This past weekend, my sister-in-law introduced me to Tim Hawkins, a Christian comedian and singer who is stinkin' hilarious. He has several videos on YouTube, all of which are worth watching, but the videos where he parodies mainstream songs are the best. The following video was my favorite, particularly song No. 2 (now we finally know what the lyrics are!)
I know the video is kind of long, so if you don't watch the entire thing, at least watch the first few songs.
(Tim Hawkins does the music - the video/drawings are done by someone just for YouTube)
Enjoy!
I've been getting a good workout lately.
Little Caro has been teaching me "dances" in the afternoon while she's been here. The other day I brought out an old keyboard that I have and she pushed the "demo" button - and it was all downhill from that point on.
The demo song sounds like a cheesy version of "Push It" by Salt N' Pepa, complete with synthesizer. I think I've learned a total of 5 dances and I actually had to perform one in front of Little Caro's mom and older sister. It was at that moment that I kissed all my dignity goodbye.
There's been much dancing, but yesterday, it was all about some stretching. She even had Wesley doing the bicycle move with his legs up in the air. I'm tellin' ya'll, she's gonna be the tiniest drill sergeant ever to appear on "The Biggest Loser".
She's asked me to do several moves that my mind wants to do, but that my body totally rebels against. Let me give you some examples:
* a split - Have I done a split in the last decade?
* a full push-up - is there such a thing?
* jumping jacks - I think my boobs knocked me out after the first one.
* the cheerleading move where you grab the inside of your foot and stretch it straight out and up - What? You can't imagine what I'm talking about? Here, let me show you a picture of me doing it...
Aren't you impressed? Thought so.
Yesterday was by far the funniest and I wasn't even involved...imagine that! She was jumping off one of my step benches and prior to each jump, she would name the jump. From out of nowhere she says..."And for my next jump...the Square-Cut Le Poop! I about fell out of my desk chair laughing so hard. Here's a picture...
and here's the Picture of RePoco jump (also originally named)...
and then the creative genius/dancer/drill sergeant took time out of her busy schedule to pose with my little redhead le poop...
As you probably know, hunt'n season is upon us. That's about the extent of what I know about hunting (as those of you who don't speak southern would know it). I am grateful to hunters for helping to control the deer population and thus keeping little Bambi from meeting mine or anyone else's windshield. You are skilled in safety and for that I am grateful.
With that said, just consider this a friendly reminder when you aim your rifle and prepare to fire.
(Me and my friend Jennifer in 2000, just before the birth of her first son. She doesn't have a blog, and she doesn't read mine, so she'll never know I posted this fabulous picture of her and her deer friend, moi!)As you know by now, I love humor. This is office humor at its best. You'll enjoy it whether you work outside the home or at home.
EFFECTIVE AUGUST 1, 2008
NEW OFFICE POLICY
Dress Code:
1) You are advised to come to work dressed according to
your salary.
2) If we see you wearing Prada shoes and carrying a
Gucci bag, we will assume you are doing well financially
and therefore do not need a raise.
3) If you dress poorly, you need to learn to manage your
money better, so that you may buy nicer clothes, and
therefore you do not need a raise.
4) If you dress just right, you are right where you need
to be and therefore you do not need a raise.
Sick Days:
We will no longer accept a doctor's statement as proof
of sickness. If you are able to go to the doctor, you are able to come to work.
Personal Days:
Each employee will receive 104 personal days a year.
They are called Saturdays & Sundays.
Bereavement Leave:
This is no excuse for missing work. There is nothing
you can do for dead friends, relatives or co-workers. Every
effort should be made to have non-employees attend the
funeral arrangements in your place. In rare cases where
employee involvement is necessary, the funeral should be
scheduled in the late afternoon. We will be glad to
allow you to work through your lunch hour and
subsequently leave one hour early.
Bathroom Breaks:
Entirely too much time is being spent in the toilet.
There is now a strict three-minute time limit in the
stalls. At the end of three minutes, an alarm will
sound, the toilet paper roll will retract, the stall
door will open, and a picture will be taken. After your
second offense, your picture will be posted on the
company bulletin board under the 'Chronic Offenders'
category. Anyone caught smiling in the picture will be
sectioned under the company's mental health policy.
Lunch Break:
* Skinny people get 30 minutes for lunch, as they need
to eat more, so that they can look healthy.
* Normal size people get 15 minutes for lunch to get a
balanced meal to maintain their average figure.
* Chubby people get 5 minutes for lunch, because that's
all the time needed to drink a Slim-Fast.
Thank you for your loyalty to our company. We are here
to provide a positive employment experience. Therefore,
all questions, comments, concerns, complaints,
frustrations, irritations, aggravations, insinuations,
allegations, accusations, contemplations, consternation
and input should be directed elsewhere.
The Management
Mr. Baseball and I love us some Chinese food. More specifically, sesame chicken. Even more specifically, from Chu's Express. Yum.
Part of the meal is reading each other our fortunes. Of course this is just for kicks and giggles since we don't really believe a little manufactured cookie could actually predict our futures.
I tried to take a picture of my fortune, but it just didn't work, so without further adue (or however you spell it), here is what my fortune is (cue drumroll please)...
Recently, I saw that someone's blog was discussing bullies and I thought I would post about one particular experience I had with a bully - who shall be named (we'll have none of this "names will be changed to protect the innocent" jargain. I plan on naming him outright because he's GUILTY!)
When I was in the 4th grade, I was all about some tennis shoes. Probably because mom only believed that children needed two pairs of shoes - one for play and one for church. So tennis shoes it was because my church shoes most surely weren't going to get NC red clay on them during recess.
With my tennies, I wore these beauties...
When I was a sophomore in high school, I was placed in an experimental trio of classes that were coined the Eco-Family. English, World History, and Biology were the three components of the family. The whole idea was that the same group of students would move together to the classes, getting to know each other, and forming a cohesive unit of highly educated 15/16 year olds.
Riiiight.
What we formed was a cohesive unit of rebellion that effectively brought about the demise of the Eco-Family that very same school year.
English
Ms. Williams. God bless her soul. A naive, soft-spoken lover of all things literary who was relentlessly teased by the boys in the class. Every time one of them would crack a joke in her direction, she would do that uncomfortable laugh - you know the one. The laugh where it is totally obvious she didn't get it, but wanted it to appear that she was wise to the joke. Once she figured out they were teasing her, she decided to use some leverage. She never let us forget that she took a $5,000 pay cut to come to us from a school in Atlanta and that she didn't have to be teaching us. If I remember correctly, we told her to return to Atlanta. Horrible.
Before taking English with Ms. Williams, the only required reading I had to do was a handful of William Shakespeare plays (very cool), and To Kill A Mockingbird (loved it). Ms. Williams introduced me to the required reading from hell in the form of All Quiet on the Western Front. All I remember is the title and that it made me uncomfortable for reasons I don't recall. My stomach feels weird, I need to stop talking about required reading. This book is the reason I never finished another required read until I met Jane Eyre my senior year.
Back to Ms. Williams. When the class would get rowdy,(which was quite often) she would break this mess out...
Mr. Baseball and I always have handy some bathroom reading material for certain times when nature calls. One of our favorite reads is Uncle John's Ultimate Bathroom Reader. For those of you not familiar with Uncle John's, it, and its companion books, are a compilation of some of the craziest material out there. Its just random, which is why we like it.
Recently I came across a hilarious work entitled "The Odd Title Award", pg. 183, and oh is this ever post-worthy stuff.
(my comments will be in red)
July 29th marked a big day for my "city". Prior to that day, one could not find alcohol on store shelves anywhere within the city limits. Oh, it was sold in the county (a mere 15 minute drive could get you some), but just not within the city limits.
All that changed on July 29th, when voters passed an alcohol referendum, and (legally) brought alcohol back in the city limits for the first time since the 50's.
I won't get into all the hoopla that surrounded this vote because that's not what's important here - but let me tell 'ya...
BOY, WAS I GLAD WHEN JULY 29TH CAME AND WENT!!!!!!
(Liken this to how some of you may feel once November 4th rolls around.)
I had actually gotten used to strolling through Wal-Mart/grocery stores/convenient stores and not seeing case after case of beer and wine.
It takes me a while to adjust to change, and well, I'm still adjusting to this change. I have lived here for 6 years with no alcohol and now its...EVERYWHERE! It will take a little time for me to once again become desensitized and then I'll be over it.
With that said, what I do have a problem with is that all the cases and cases of alcohol lining every shelf in every store I step foot in, have edged out my true love...
is foo-fooing (a.k.a. pooting, tooting, stepping on frogs, etc.) on command.
My redhead however, (who is not yet 2) DOES possess this talent.
Mr. Baseball asked him to "poot" tonight and out popped one. The question was asked again...out popped yet another. I walked into the living room and asked him to "poot" (partly because I didn't believe this nonsense), and out squeaked another air biscuit. My jaw hit the floor.
The redhead's father couldn't be more pleased.
