Happy New Year, Everyone!
I have learned long ago that there's really no point in having New Year's Resolutions. If I do have to talk about resolutions, it's usually in a joking manner and it's usually some short term goal - try and help out more around the house or tell my husband 'I love him' more often. Well I do the latter all the time already so not really a resolution.
Back in the day, I had the same lofty resolutions that many people in the world have - hit the gym more, lose weight, eat healthier, shop less, etc. I don't think I could eat any healthier now if I tried and although I know I do have to hit the gym again, it's not in an attempt to lose weight but keep myself in shape to deliver these little Niblets in about 4-5 months. When I did set those 'lose weight' goals for myself, back in the day, I did lose weight, only to gain some of it back later in the year or later the next year. I think after the fourth time of doing this, I figured, 'What's the point?!'
Therefore, for 2009, I do not have any resolutions to speak of. I do have personal goals I'd like to meet which is to deliver two healthy, happy babies and to get back to my pre-pregnancy body, and maybe even a BETTER body (like that of a Victoria's Secret model - lofty goals, remember?!).
I'm looking forward to the year ahead - we're doubling our family and it's something we've been waiting for for quite a long time - so I'm looking forward to the big change that is about to take place. I'm looking forward to finally meeting these kids that are 'baking' in my belly and being able to hold, touch and love them in person.
Hope you all have a wonderful 2009!
Friday, January 2, 2009
Thursday, December 18, 2008
What's This Guy's Secret?!?!?!
The guy to the left is Drew Peterson. No relation to the other scum bag, Scott Peterson, locked up in CA.If you're not family with Drew Peterson, he is currently under investigation for the homicide of wife #3 and under suspicion for his missing wife #4.
He has been a staple in the US news for the first half of 2008. Things have died down with him, while he is under investigation but now he's back in the news - with bells on. Why? Cause he's engaged to be married to wife #5!
So when I read the headlines that he was engaged again, a few things ran through my head:
1) Are you kidding me?
2) Is that legal? I mean I don't believe his fourth wife has ever been found but is still considered 'missing.'
3) Does this woman (his fiance) have a death wish?
4) Have you seen the guy? He's not wealthy, he's not good looking....how is he finding all this action? (Must be his mojo.)
5) What is his secret? How is a man like that married four times already and has already got wife #5 waiting in the wings?!
My first instinct is that he MUST be drugging these women into marrying him. Like I said, 'Have you seen this guy?'
I'm sure these women are not being drugged - I have to settle myself to the fact that they must just be dumb. Really dumb.
A coworker and I were having a conversation about this....who in their right mind would want to "be with" a person who is under legal suspicion. To take it one step further, who would want to "be with" a person locked up for life? The latter is about Scott Peterson - the man convicted of killing his wife and their unborn child. He's in prison and he's got 120+ lady pen pals. I'm sure writing all 120+ helps pass the time behind bars but what is with these women? What are their deals? Do they have such LOW self esteem that the only way they could possibly be in a relationship is with someone behind bars - where their "love interest" remains captive? Are they hoping that by being with a convicted killer, or even a person under suspicion, it might save them a trip to a reality game show in order to get their 15 minutes of fame?
Part of me also wondered if some of these women thought they could actually 'save' these men in some way. Like the fiance to Drew Peterson - maybe she feels she could save him and his reputation by becoming wife #5 and showing the world that she can survive....they can get married and divorced and come out it of unscathed. Maybe she'll even outlive him...who knows.
The point is - something crazy is going on here and it does not smell kosher!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Your Baby Smells....
It might seem like all my recent postings have been about babies and pregnancies (minus my Jetson-themed post), but I feel like this post would have been a necessity had I not been pregnant.
When I think of babies, I think of smooth skin, bald heads, and baby powder smells. When I was walking through the grocery store yesterday and passed a 1.5 year old with his Dad, I smelled poop. It was bad. I almost felt like turning around and saying 'Hey, I think it's time for a diaper change.' It was probably the first time in my pregnancy, thus far, that I felt the gag reflexes going off.
And then as I passed them and tried to get away from the source of the smell, I thought to myself, 'Oh my gosh - that could be me in a year!' And then I said a little prayer that I would never be THAT parent that just walked around the store, ho-humming like nothing was up. The Dad didn't seem to be in any great rush to get the grocery shopping done so they could change the poopie diaper. Me? I would like to think that at the first whiff of "danger," I would be parking my cart to the side and making a bee-line to the ladies' room to make my baby 'fresh' again.
It has actually happened on one occasion...with my nephew. He was about 2-3 years old and I had to make a quick trip to Target. And since this was only going to be a 30 minute voyage, I didn't bother taking the diaper bag with me. I figured he was 'older' and what could possibly happen in 30 minutes?! Apparently, a lot. We arrived at the Target and I went directly to the aisle I needed to be in. As I was making my selection, my nephew had marked his territory in the aisle by standing in one spot and proceeding to turn bright red. You see, he was turning red because he was pushing. Pushing what? Certainly not daisies. Back in the day, this is how my nephew would conduct his poop sessions - he would be playing, playing, playing and then freeze and his cheeks would puff out and his face would turn beet red. One time he even grabbed onto my husband's knees for support.
I immediately knew what was going on - I immediately panicked. Instead of proceeding to the checkout and just lugging this now 'smelly kid' around the store with me or even going to buy diapers and wipes to change him on the spot, I put my stuff back, went to the car and drove home. I felt bad that I didn't have his diaper bag with me and that was a lesson learned - never leave without a diaper bag when traveling with ANY child.
So since I've had it happen to me in the past and now that I know I will have it happen to me in the future, I feel somewhat secure in knowing that I will do my very best not to have the smelliest kid around.
When I think of babies, I think of smooth skin, bald heads, and baby powder smells. When I was walking through the grocery store yesterday and passed a 1.5 year old with his Dad, I smelled poop. It was bad. I almost felt like turning around and saying 'Hey, I think it's time for a diaper change.' It was probably the first time in my pregnancy, thus far, that I felt the gag reflexes going off.
And then as I passed them and tried to get away from the source of the smell, I thought to myself, 'Oh my gosh - that could be me in a year!' And then I said a little prayer that I would never be THAT parent that just walked around the store, ho-humming like nothing was up. The Dad didn't seem to be in any great rush to get the grocery shopping done so they could change the poopie diaper. Me? I would like to think that at the first whiff of "danger," I would be parking my cart to the side and making a bee-line to the ladies' room to make my baby 'fresh' again.
It has actually happened on one occasion...with my nephew. He was about 2-3 years old and I had to make a quick trip to Target. And since this was only going to be a 30 minute voyage, I didn't bother taking the diaper bag with me. I figured he was 'older' and what could possibly happen in 30 minutes?! Apparently, a lot. We arrived at the Target and I went directly to the aisle I needed to be in. As I was making my selection, my nephew had marked his territory in the aisle by standing in one spot and proceeding to turn bright red. You see, he was turning red because he was pushing. Pushing what? Certainly not daisies. Back in the day, this is how my nephew would conduct his poop sessions - he would be playing, playing, playing and then freeze and his cheeks would puff out and his face would turn beet red. One time he even grabbed onto my husband's knees for support.
I immediately knew what was going on - I immediately panicked. Instead of proceeding to the checkout and just lugging this now 'smelly kid' around the store with me or even going to buy diapers and wipes to change him on the spot, I put my stuff back, went to the car and drove home. I felt bad that I didn't have his diaper bag with me and that was a lesson learned - never leave without a diaper bag when traveling with ANY child.
So since I've had it happen to me in the past and now that I know I will have it happen to me in the future, I feel somewhat secure in knowing that I will do my very best not to have the smelliest kid around.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
"The Suite"
While there are plenty of contrary opinions out there around the world, as an American, I feel that I have many reasons to be proud of this country. Of course it's not perfect; I'd even go so far as to guess that no country is. Part of what makes a country great is the refusal to accept complacency - to strive for better. One of the areas in which I think that the U.S. generally gets it right is its laws regarding access for the disabled. Ramps, elevators, parking spaces . . . we've got them. As we should.
But American women don't seem to agree about the proper etiquette concerning one of our accommodations for the disabled, a little place my friend Colleen likes to call "The Suite." The Suite is your standard disabled-friendly bathroom stall, the one that is extra roomy, has a bar along the wall, and sometimes even has its own private sink (the real score). How do I know about all of these features? Because I have visited the Suite many times. (I have even visited the Johnny-on-the-Spot Suite, which is certainly not ideal, but still better than the alternative.)
Sometimes, however, I hear other women talk about the Suite like it's off-limits to the fully-abled - at all times. Do they really believe this? And if so, is it true? Maybe I am a bad person for taking advantage of the extra benefits the Suite has to offer. But then, I am not sure I am in the wrong here. If there were someone with a disability standing behind me in line for the restroom and the Suite suddenly became available, of course, OF COURSE, I'd allow said person to move in front of me and use the Suite. But in general, it's not like a parking space. I'm not planning to occupy the Suite all day. And sometimes, the Suite is the only one available.
When you've gotta go, you've gotta go.
But American women don't seem to agree about the proper etiquette concerning one of our accommodations for the disabled, a little place my friend Colleen likes to call "The Suite." The Suite is your standard disabled-friendly bathroom stall, the one that is extra roomy, has a bar along the wall, and sometimes even has its own private sink (the real score). How do I know about all of these features? Because I have visited the Suite many times. (I have even visited the Johnny-on-the-Spot Suite, which is certainly not ideal, but still better than the alternative.)
Sometimes, however, I hear other women talk about the Suite like it's off-limits to the fully-abled - at all times. Do they really believe this? And if so, is it true? Maybe I am a bad person for taking advantage of the extra benefits the Suite has to offer. But then, I am not sure I am in the wrong here. If there were someone with a disability standing behind me in line for the restroom and the Suite suddenly became available, of course, OF COURSE, I'd allow said person to move in front of me and use the Suite. But in general, it's not like a parking space. I'm not planning to occupy the Suite all day. And sometimes, the Suite is the only one available.
When you've gotta go, you've gotta go.
When Will We Reach 'Jetson' Status?
Back in the 80s, one of my favorite cartoons was 'The Jetsons.' In fact, it's still one of my favorites. When I am able to catch it on the Cartoon Network, which is not often, I do enjoy watching and feeling nostalgic. Of course watching it as a six to eight year old, I was always looking forward to a future of flying cars, instant food and robot maids named 'Rosie.'
Fast forward to 2008 and I sit here wondering - when will we reach the Jetsons' lifestyle? You would think with all the automobile hub-bub going on, this would be the PERFECT time to look ahead and invest in flying (fuel efficient) cars. I heard that Neiman Marcus had one for kids during the holidays - in looking at their site now, I didn't see it offered this year. But that's one step closer, right?
But aside from flying cars, how about machines that spit out full meals? I love how Jane Jetson would always stress about getting dinner ready and with a few presses of some buttons, the table was set and a full course meal was presented in under 10 seconds. And just as quickly, all the dishes were cleared and the kitchen was spotless.
Why can't we have 'Rosies' that go around the house, talking with a New York accent, and whipping out a belly vaccuum at the drop of a crumb...all while playing spaceball with 'Roy Boy.' She 'bing bings' through the house, makes smart comments but never complains...and she's your friend as well as your helper....and all at the price of a can of oil every so often (to keep her lubed).
I find at night, I am in real need of the conveyor belt shower/clothes changer where I just start at one end, get my body washed, hair washed, teeth brushed and changed into my pajamas, like a human carwash - all without moving and all within minutes. That would save me from being fully conscious when getting ready for bed.
Ahh - the future. To live like the Jetsons. Forget about jetting off to exotic locales in Africa or Europe. How about going to the burger joint on Mars with your talking dog, Astro?!
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