Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Think Less But See it Grow

Sometimes I feel as though I need to bopped upside the head.

Yes, much like Little Bunny Foo Foo. But only without the good fairy.

Unless she cleans houses, of course.

The point is, at some point I need to come to the realization that we're having a baby. Not that I'm in total complete denial or anything, I mean - both my stomach and my ass are growing amazingly fast. And he moves. A lot.

Yes, he. Have I not mentioned that? My apologies.

Apparently I have a magical uterus that clones, right down to insuring that said clone also have a penis. Which I take to be the Universe's way to say "fuck you and your Capello genetics" followed by the ever-present evil laugh of mwahahaha which I hear in my sleep.

Thanks, for that Universe.

So, back to the point: not that I'm in denial, I can't be. He punches me a lot. Like an animal trying to escape his jail.

What? You think my uterus isn't a jail? You're funny.

But my point being, I haven't done jack anything other than increase my calorie intake to prepare for this baby. Well, and go to the doctor appointments and get my shots (which I now have a nice big itchy knot on my hip, thanks) and elevate my feet and sleep a lot and become OBSESSED with food.

Like I'm not already obsessed with food. And the food allergies make it worse, not being able to eat everywhere around town. It has caused me to live vicariously through others even more, like when my friend called one night and was all OH MY GOD, GUESS WHAT HAPPENED TO ME TONIGHT WHILE I WAS AT BIG BOY! and my reply was YOU ORDERED THE CHICKEN TENDERLOIN SANDWICH?

She didn't. Nor did she have a chocolate milkshake or a cherry limeaid. Sigh. My friend doesn't know how to eat properly. And I can still taste the disappointment in my mouth for her not ordering the right food.

But you know what? We're having a baby. And it's kinda like a joke. Like HAHAHAHAHA, YES WE KNOW WE'RE CRAZY, THANKS and watching my stomach grow, but not getting the least bit prepared.

The boys threw a fit to go to a baby store one day while running errands. They wanted to buy him clothes, so I stopped and let them shop for the baby.

Y'all, my kids are more prepared for the baby than I am.

That whole nesting thing is going to kick in eventually, right?

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

What I Got: Full Stock of Thoughts and Dreams That Scatter

Three years ago...

"Aaron, we need to have that locust tree in the back cut down. Dead branches are hanging over the house and the tree is dying."

"That tree's not dead! It's fine!"

Two years ago...

"Aaron, the locust tree is dying. We need to get it cut down before it falls on the house."

"Stop being a drama queen! It's fine! It has leaves on more than half the tree! It will recover!"

One year ago...

"Aaron, seriously. That damn locust tree is gonna crash through our house and kill the boys while the are sleeping."

"My god, woman. It's FINE. See! It has leaves! It's not gonna fall on the house."

This year...


"Yeah, it's in sad shape. Plus! I want to expand my vegetable patch and that damn tree blocks too much light. Let's get some quotes on getting it cut down."

We called seven companies to come out and bid cutting down our big locust tree in the backyard.

Our first bid out wouldn't even bid on the damn thing, citing it being too close to the house, un-climbable and couldn't get a bucket truck to the back yard because it's been dead for three years.

(Aaron's response? "It! Still! Has! Leaves! Granted, five leaves but still! Alive!")


A second company didn't show up.

Three companies came to for a bid, let themselves into the backyard and pushed a half-assed bid under the front door while I was home.

Okay, let's take a moment here, people. We're in a recession. A crap-ass "Great Recession" and I call you out to my home, explain I work from home and we have a puppy in the fenced back yard quite a bit (and! no more rabbits!), and that I would like more than just the dead tree quoted but you don't bother knocking on my door? Seriously? You think I'm gonna hire you and give you my money?

Guess again.

So it came down to two bids: one, a certified arborist who will use a crane and bucket truck (and costs a grand more) and the other, a tree cutter who claimed he'd shimmy up there and low-balled the quote.

Now, we love saving money. I mean, it's hard to afford jack anything in this "Great Recession" so dur, we wanted to hire the lower-costing guy.


Red flags. Everywhere. Not returning calls for days. Said they faxed their insurance information and didn't. I had a bad gut feeling.

Finally they got us the copy of their insurance policy and I called to verify it. And guess what? This dude wants to cut down a big ass dead tree, while he's up in it, half of which hangs over my house and HE DIDN'T HAVE INSURANCE.

I was pre-warned to verify insurance information and I'm so glad I did. Could you imagine? Hiring someone who's actually not covered? That could financially ruin us.

So, we have a date with a crane.


A crane that has to be parked in my neighbor's driveway.

Hahahhaha Hahahahaha.

And a bucket truck that will be on my and my neighbor's grass.


One of ya'll's gonna book me a nice stay at a mental institution, yes?

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Caught in a Bad Romance

I have a love/hate relationship with tulips.

I love them, they are so damn cheery and chipper.

(planted on the front corner last autumn)

I hate them, them are so freaking fickle.

A few years ago I planted a few hundred in a garden bed in the backyard. A mixture of pinks, reds and yellows grew to be a red, purple and stripey bed. And I forgave them, in all of their mis-matched glory I still loved those tulips.

Now, a few years have past and what do we have?

Where'd all my tulips go?

Kansas ate 'em. That's what happened. The state was all nom nom nom, taste-y tulips.

You have a better explanation?

I've officially given up on them this year and told Aaron it was time to do something else with that bed.

The trellis full of honeysuckle will obviously stay (y'all, I had to IM a coworker to be all "what's the word for a metal thing you put in the garden to support climbing plants? 'cause I'm pregnant and can't think straight") as will the hydrangea in front of it. The daylilies desperately need to be divided but will stay in the same area as well.

Past that, the only two plants in there are a miniature rose bush that needs to be dug up and have surgery preformed on it and some dying bushy thing that doesn't get enough sun.

Initially, before finding out was pregnant, my thought was to dig out the daylilies and bushes and roto-till the holy living baloneys out of the bed. Then plant a bunch of flowers.

But now, now I drop something on the ground I spend a few minutes analyzing if it needs to be picked up right away or if can wait for Aaron or the boys to be home, so someone else can pick up for me. Guess what usually happens.

There's a family story from Aaron's childhood, he was about 10 years old and asked his mom if he could dig a hole in the backyard.

"Mom? Could I dig a hole in he backyard?"


"It's gonna be big."

"Okay, have fun."

"No mom, it's gonna be a big hole."

"That's fine, Aaron. Go have fun."

As the story goes, he spent all day outside digging this hole. By the time he was done, his head was below ground level, plus all the dirt was built up a good two or three feet above the ground 'cause the boy didn't move the dirt and he shoveled. A ladder was required to get him out of the hole.

(And he says I have an imagination.)

When asked why he dug such a crazy, insane hole he seriously replied, "So it would be below the freezing line for my fish."

"Your what?"

"My fish pond. Why else do you think I dug such a big hole?"

I pointed out to Aaron a couple of weeks ago that the one thing our garden was missing (besides a cherry tree, a grape arbor, strawberries, blueberries, blackberries and raspberries) is a fish pond. And guess what we have? FREE LABOR.

Besides, what little boy doesn't want to go dig a great big hole (a great big hole, I might add, that will produce a spectacular amount of soil to use as filler in Aaron's vegetable patch) in the backyard? Mommy just needs to buy some shovels.

And finish getting Daddy on board.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

I Go Crazy Wondering What There is to Really See

The perinatologist appointment went very well. I mean, as well as could be still having calcification on the heart.

The doctor wasn't the least bit worried about it though, all the bone structure measured properly, all the organs look good. Yay!

But due to the calcification and "my age" (yes, he said that and I was all WHACHA TALKIN' 'BOUT WILLIS? ) the odds of the baby having Down's is one in 211 - for once I feel like the odds are stacked in our favor. I go back in four weeks for more scans.

We've been busy enjoying the spring weather, making garden plans and blowing lots of noses.

And taking the baby chicks outside daily for "recess."

A word to the wise: baby chicks in the house makes your home very, very stinky. I'll be sad to see them go but I'll be happy to no longer have my house smell like tinkle.

Monday, April 05, 2010

Money for Nothin' and Your Chicks for Free

We had another sonogram on Thursday. A no-good, very-bad sonogram, if you ask me.

Yadda, yadda, heart problem, yadda, yadda, possible Down's, yadda, yadda, level II sonogram with a perinatologist obstetrician, yadda, yadda, DON'T PANIC.

Yeah, like I heard that last one very well.

So we go for the fancy-pants level II on Wednesday afternoon, fingers crossed everything will be okay. (Which? Internet research [which we all know is so reliable] points to a 95% chance of the baby being FINE.) (Also: NERD!)


You also scratch your head just like your daddy. I'm certain you were trying to figure out what was poking you and if you're anything like me, MAKE IT STOP NOW GAWD.

In an effort to divert our attention from the craptastic news on Thursday, we've been overly focused on other adventures.

Run! RUN! Run for your lives! PIRATE CHICKS!