Monday, August 25, 2008


Do I really need a more descriptive title?

I realize that many of you have probably heard this tale before. No, no, not because I've told it. After all, it only happened about nine hours ago.

No, you've likely heard it because it was the first thing AM announced as he walked into school this morning.

For those that haven't heard it, feel free to guffaw at my expense.

First, I will start by explaining how my day began.

With wet pants.

Not because I WET my pants, but because my dryer stopped drying, thus making it a rather useless cold air tumbler.

Thinking MotH had selected too little time when he threw them in, I turned it back on and went about my morning.

Forty-five minutes later, the pants are still wet and cold.

MotH is downstairs attempting to do something with a ShopVac. I'm certain it is wishful thinking on his part that it's not the heating element, but I acknowledge the importance of letting him do this "his way".

Anyway, I ran upstairs and dug frantically through my closet searching for new bottoms. Tried to put on my jean skirt. Broke a nail struggling to get it into place. That's a bad sign.

It gets worse.

I finally decided to wear a pair of black gauchos that haven't seen the light-of-day since the beginning of my pregnancy. Even then, they were only used because anything with a true waistband made me nauseous. They're my ultimate "fat girl" pants.

That's still not the bad part.

I grabbed the shirt I'd ironed and put it on. Felt a little more snug then last time I wore it (approximately two weeks ago). No biggie. I'm sure it will stretch a little.

Pulled it down over my belly.

Have you ever noticed how tight a sausage looks in it's casing? Yeah, it was about like that.

Like a boa constrictor, the shirt clung to me with a tenacity static cling would admire.

I knew I couldn't wear it. I couldn't lift my arms! Bend over! BREATHE!!

And I couldn't get it off. Oh I tried. Mercy how I tried. If MotH had been home, he probably could have disentangled me (though I may have had to dislocate a shoulder to get the job done).

I did the only thing I could. I cut it off. Stuck a pair of scissors in the "V" of the neckline and cut from top to bottom.

As the sweet, fresh taste of O2 filled my lungs (and I sucked it in with all the lung capacity I still have remaining) it began to dawn on me that things were changing. I'm not going to be able to get away with the clothes in my closet for the remainder of my pregnancy. My optimistic maternity-wear shopping was coming back to bite me in the butt, or at least strangle me.

The minute we walked in the classroom this morning, AM told his teacher that I had to cut myself out of my shirt.

I knew that pregnancy was full of discomforts. This wasn't what I had in mind.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

!! LOL !!

Did anyone happen to notice the post from Hy-vee's customer service under my cereal post?

Now, I'm going to assume that neither Chaos nor Nurse Boy decided to mess with me. I'm still hormonal, you know (MotH is too, thanks for asking).

If it IS true, I am d-y-i-n-g at the idea that Hy-vee has a customer service person that spends the day Googling their name looking for negative blog entries, lol!

Okay. I gotta fess up. I, uh, found the marshmallows. I had the box poised for a end-zone worthy spike into the waste receptacle when MotH interceded and suggested he take a look. He pulled out the inner bag.

There, in the bottom, were all the marshmallows. Starting about three inches from the bottom, the cereal was marshmallow-free, but they were there. As bottom dwellers.

However, I ask you this: is it natural for a marshmallow, something that is virtually puffed, sugar air, to sink to the bottom? It is lighter then the accompanying cereal, is it not? Didn't the marshmallows defy the very laws of gravity by sinking to the bottom?

Can I be blamed for thinking there were NO marshmallows when, after pouring a bowl AND peering into the box, I saw none?

I didn't think so.

So Hy-vee, you can rest easy that your Treasures did, indeed, contain the "treasure". However, to prevent this sort of problem in the future, the manufacturing process should be reviewed.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Random musings

AM came home with "homework".

Apparently, he has to take a bug to school tomorrow.

Do you suppose the ants in my kitchen will work? I'd certainly LOVE to send them someplace else. I don't know why they are there (MotH's "theory" is that they have invaded due to the wet year we've had). I just want them gone. Perhaps they can go to school with AM tomorrow.

Hopefully they won't make him bring them back home.

Is it bad that I've now had TWO onion bagels with cheese? Since bringing AM home approximately 45 minutes ago? Bottomless pit doesn't really do me justice right now.

While on the subject of too much food, AM asked me where I got my shot this morning (he finds it amusing that I get them in the hiney.....or just slightly north of the hiney). I told him and said "it didn't hurt at all".

"That's because your bottom is so big, mom".

Budomp bum.

Laugh a minute, that kid. MotH loves it because AM says ALL the thing I KNOW he's thinking, but could never get away with verbalizing........and living another day.

I was also asked, on the way home, how babies come out. After sharing with me HIS thoughts (which closely follow the "hiney" topic we began with), he asked ME to explain.

Isn't he supposed to ask his dad that question? Then they're supposed to go fishing and have some sort of man-to-small-man discussion. Like someplace far, far away from me.

I explained that God made girls different then boys and that they have a special "part" that allows them to have babies. I then told him that was as much information as he's getting for now, lol.

I'm certain that makes me a failure on some level. It will be my burden to bear.

Of course I should be grateful he asked me in the car. It wasn't all that long ago that he suddenly, and rather loudly, asked me to explain exactly HOW mom's feed babies milk from their bodies. Where does it come home? How does the baby get it?

Did I mention that was in the middle of the shoe department at KMart?

Yep, nothin' like a kid to make you humble.

Sunday, August 17, 2008


School starts in exactly 10 hours!

I'm okay with the fact that school is starting (unlike the "ugly cry" when he started kindergarten). AM is excited, so I'm excited for him.

I've got all the crayons, pencils and markers initialed (sorry, but with a class size I can count on one hand, I'm not writing his full name on everything). Kleenex and paper plates purchased. Backpack bulging at the seams with folders. New school clothes waiting to be picked up at the store (please, please, please let them fit since he'll be outta luck in the morning if they don't!).

I had a little moment of rebellion when it came to paints (Prang, Oval or Bradley only, please) and bought Crayola brand. Then today, while cleaning out a closet, I found his school supplies from two years ago with a completely UNUSED thing of Prang water colors. So I rebelled, but nobody will know about it.

I'm ready. He's ready. All is well.

Plus, I am really, REALLY, R-E-A-L-L-Y hoping that once we are back in the "swing" of things, time will start to hustle along a little faster. Not permanently (I know to be careful what I wish for), but at least until November.

MotH got new stairs installed from our house down to the garage yesterday. The previous stairs stuck out into the garage and needed to be shortened in order for us to close in those stairs and the stairs to the basement, thus creating a "hallway" by which to go downstairs.

This is necessary for two reasons:
1 - the cat's box is currently in what will be the baby's room and the only other place to put it is in the basement. Since he can't open doors, and since he'd get into all colors of mischief in the garage, we will be installing a pet door and he'll be able to go downstairs safely.

2 - the basement is supposed to be AM's "safe zone". His only source of anxiety with the new baby is the fact that the baby will cry. AM's doesn't "do" crying very well. It's a sensory thing (he also doesn't do loud gymnasium sounds well, or screaming kids, or whining kids, etc.......though oddly enough it doesn't keep HIM from being loud, screaming or whining). Anyway, the basement is going to be someplace he can go play if he feels he needs to get away, plus it gives he and MotH a place to set up their model train (currently it only comes out at Christmas)

So we have new stairs and will soon have a new hallway. It's fabulous to be married to a handy-man!

There was one, little thing we didn't get accomplished this weekend. I really wanted to go through the baby stuff we have (much of it I haven't seen in roughly seven years.) to see what I do and don't need to register for. Since sis and I are going Thursday to register, time is a'tickin'. Hopefully some night this week.

Oh and while I'm on the subject, if anyone has a "must have" baby item, let me know. I'm looking for registry inspiration.

Moving on........I have a confession (have to throw one in every now and then, since my blog is "Confessions of an Imperfect Mom"): we left church early today. I don't know what the deal is, but I am going through a stage where I feel ON FIRE ALL MORNING LONG. It feels like my muscles are burning. Like my organs are steaming. Even my teeth feel hot. What is up with that?!

The sanctuary was plenty cool, but I was sweating. Unfortunately, I also began to get very, very nauseous. I was worried I'd get sick, so we bailed without testing our luck.

We also skipped the church picnic tonight for the same reason. Oh well, there's always next year. Plus, we went to the one a couple of months ago for the Romania mission trip, so I figure I'm "good".

Finally, this totally random thought: I really want crab rangoon. Yes, in that if-I-don't-get-any-nobody-will-have-a-pleasant-evening-type of way. I'm thinking Chinese food is on the menu tonight.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Harry Potter. For kids?!

I took AM to see Star Wars: The Clone Wars today with some friends. Not exactly cinematic excellence, but he enjoyed it (I mostly entertained myself by watching my belly move).

Anyway, in true movie-going fashion, we had to endure roughly three gazillion (give or take a couple) movie premieres prior to the "main event".

One of those was a premier for the new Harry Potter movie. Something about a Half-Blood Prince (not sure what that means).

I kid you not: I thought (until I saw "Harry") it was a preview for some horror flick for adults. All three of the kids I was with said it was scary.

From what I could gather, it's about a "dark" wizard that goes to the wizard school years before Harry. He begins to talk about how he can do harm to those that are mean to him and then after a litany of equally creepy "talents", stops the "head" wizard (no idea what he would really be called) with the confession that he can talk to snakes. They follow him and whisper to him.

Nothing like a good, ol' serpent reference to bring out the warm fuzzies IN WHAT IS SUPPOSED TO BE MARKETED TO CHILDREN!!!!!!

Throw in a few flashing demon-faces and it would seem that they are trying to insinuate that he's demonic/very evil. If that's NOT their intention, they need to fire their advertising team.

It was seriously, seriously disturbing.

Now, we aren't a Harry Potty family. None of us have read the books nor have we seen the movies. We don't intend to. I've talked to too many people who's kids were negatively impacted by the books. Not to mention the fact that it "entertains" with something God doesn't mince words about. I'm not going to let AM read a warm, feel-good book about adultery, so why would I let him entertain himself with something about wizardry?

I would argue that Harry Potter isn't exactly kid fodder. If adults want to watch/read, I have no beef with that.

Oh, and as a side topic. The kid I assume to be the "Half-Blood Prince" is truly creepy looking. Exactly how does one answer that casting call?

Wanted: child actor capable of sending cold chills down the spine with one hollow stare.

Gosh, dear. Little Johnny would be PERFECT for that part. Maybe the fact that he tortures small animals will help him get the job?!

Makes me wonder about parents willing to let their kid participate in something like that.

Yes, I know that my opinion of the great and powerful J.K. Rowlings will be met with responses ranging from "she's right on" to "she's a Bible-banging freak". I can deal with that and frankly don't care.

If Jesus comes back, I don't want Him to find AM reading something He finds offensive. I DON'T read books I would have to be ashamed of and I'll be darned if my kid will.

Let alone watch a super creepy film.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

An Open Letter to Hyvee. Re: Marshmallow Treasures....


I had a craving. I went to pour myself a bowl of what PROMISED to be marshmallow-y goodness.

The front of your box clearly displays an abundance of rainbow-colored, dehydrated marshmallows.

I looked into my bowl of cereal....and THERE WERE NO MARSHMALLOWS. I double checked the box.

There they are! Mocking me with their promise of a multi-colored sugar high.


I dumped it down the sink and found three. THREE. I ask you, is that abundant? No, it's not. It's stingy.

I'm all for saving money, Hyvee, but you need to add the word "essence" to your box: Treasures with Marshmallow-Essence.

It would save people like myself from the bitter let-down when they simply expect more from you.

Shame on you, Hyvee. I could have purchased Lucky Charms, but I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I got burned and that's not something a craving-prone pregnant chick is likely to forget soon.

Shame on you.

Saturday, August 09, 2008

"I'm hormonal"

No, not me. MotH. Yes, you read that correctly. My husband now claims HE is experiencing pregnancy hormones.

It's my fault, really. I'll explain.

About six weeks ago, I ordered the NEW and REVISED version of "What to Expect When You're Expecting". I'm not exactly sure what makes it NEW and REVISED, only that the cover says it is so it must be true.

Anyway, I noticed that near the back of the book there was a small'ish chapter devoted to expecting dads.

Let's be honest: this is really about ME (well, okay, me and the baby), so he really doesn't need a big chapter.

Deciding to peek into the inner workings of an expectant father's mind (although, curiously, the chapter is written by women), I immediately skipped to that chapter.

What followed was a EUREKA moment. The chapter explained pregnancy and all of it's quirky quirkiness and I immediately decided MotH HAD TO READ THIS CHAPTER.

If he would read it, I was certain a couple of things would happen. One, he would stop rolling his eyes every time I had a hormonal "moment" (he can run faster then me, so I suppose he feels safe rolling his eyes at me). Two, I might get more back rubs out of the deal, since he would certainly be filled with compassion and understanding once he had a better "feel" for my plight.

I read a couple of "high points" just to wet his appetite. It took (as mentioned above) six weeks for him to finally run out of better things to do...............oops, I mean to finally decide to read the chapter.

It would appear that there was an oversight on my part.

Last night, he sat down in the chair, heaved a heavy sigh and announced that he had been grumpy (different topic, different day....maybe) because he was having HORMONAL PROBLEMS.

Yeah, that was my reaction too.

He went on to explain that "the book" said men often experience hormonal issues when their partners are pregnant. Some hooey about getting them ready to "nurture". I said "yeah, I've really felt nurtured". He replied "to nurture the BABY, not you".

He also mentioned something about sympathy weight, but told me I wasn't to say anything to him about his thighs because he's "hormonal right now".

This morning, I said something to him about picking up a dish and he gave me a look of long-suffering and told me to be patient because, you guessed it, he's "hormonal right now".

This was a significant strategic error on my part.

I tried to convince him that MY hormones were crazier and, even if he disagreed with that, since I wasn't allowed to use my hormones as an excuse, he couldn't either.

Stupid book. Of course he hasn't READ the parts yet that I wanted him to read.

Friday, August 08, 2008


Probably the closest I'll ever get to China is currently on my tv.

Now, that's nothing new. However, I'm still sitting here weepy over the opening ceremony.

Really, it has nothing to with the little-adoption-that-could.

It has more to do with the freak show. That is to say, ME!

I'm grateful that AM's buddy is the "eldest" of four. He's well versed in crazy, pregnancy hormones.

(So far they've barely noticed I'm alive, let alone weepy over THE STINKIN' OPENING CEREMONY.)

I will probably bawl like a baby (or like someone bakin' a baby) when the US team comes in. Again, not sure why (although I tend to get weepy over anything remotely patriotic). In fact, I've had more personal ties to past US Teams when my uncle was a coach.

But I wasn't pregnant then. All bets are off now.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

It's just plain weird

I've talked about it before, but I have to say it again.

It's just plain weird to have a human in you.

Take last night. The kid pogo sticked (I don't know how he managed to get a pogo stick in there. Probably better that I don't know.) from one side of my belly to the other.


I mean, what IS he doing in there? Does this mean he'll come out with fully developed biceps and glutes?

This morning, he was practicing for Lord of the Dance or something.

And while feeling it is strange enough, SEEING it is a whole different story. I don't know what I'll do if he ever pushes hard enough for me to actually SEE what body part he's pummeling me with. I see pictures online of very definite foot outlines on the belly. Does that really happen?!

Okay, yes. I do enjoy it. It reassures me that all is well. It's still weird.

On a less "weird" note, I had chocolate cake for breakfast this morning. Oh. Yes. I. Did. Bill Cosby once said it was "healthy" (milk, eggs, flour) and I'm all about the health food, ya know. Bet it tasted better then your twigs and berries!

Oh, one more thing about this whole pregnancy thing (one more thing for THIS don't actually think I'll stop posting about it, do you??).

One word: swelling.

My legs are moving past "cankles" and working on "thankles". MotH grabbed one the other day and told me I felt "buff" (due to it's general rock hardedness). Yep, buff. That's me. I have more dimples then a one year old, but underneath all my "hail damage" I'm buff.

Monday, August 04, 2008

What's a mama bear to do?

AM is always slow to admit what's buggin' him.

He usually starts by telling me that he doesn't want to go somewhere. Then he'll start asking, every day, "where am I going tomorrow".

Many, many, many times, it's because the place in question is loud and AM doesn't "do" loud well (sensory thing). It's one of the (main) reasons he's in a small, private school.

Because it's often sensory related, it's often NOT an actual problem with the "place", meaning the place can be perfectly fine, it's just that AM isn't coping with the noise level. This has happened at church, at birthday parties, in the gym at school (anyone that knows him from school knows he has his air-traffic-control ear phones on every time he goes into the gym........they are actually firing range earmuffs, for anyone that's curious), at a friend's house, etc....

It doesn't matter how badly he wants to be in those places, he can't quite overcome his reaction to the noise level. We're hoping to find him a bio-feedback practitioner (my cousin's son, with similar problems, had tremendous luck with bio-feedback).

Okay, 'nuff bout that.

Today, I finally found out part of the reason I've been getting the "where do I go tomorrow?" question. A large (!) part of it is the noise level at summer camp. However, this morning he casually said "mom, come here for a second". When I went there for a second, he said "Jeffrey keeps telling me I'm dumb at summer camp".

The time it takes blood to boil: approximately a nano-second.

His summer camp is supposed to be a "zero tolerance" zone. Now I know that kids will be kids, but I was picked on horribly until highschool and it's the one thing that will make me go mama bear faster then anything else.

I, of course, immediately wanted to find this snot-nosed, weasel.....I mean Jeffrey and have a little conversation with him. Or at least with his mom.

Of course, being an adult of (reasonably) sound mind, I know I can't just approach a child. Instead, I said something to the "teacher" (she actually is a teacher, but they don't really "teach" during summer camp) when I dropped AM off this morning.

She immediately assured me that she would say something to his leaders (also teachers.......they are all teachers, for the most part, since they use this camp to help them get teaching credits......but that's not really the point right now).

AM gets in the car tonight and says "Jeffrey was mean again. When he came into the gym, I said 'hey Jeffrey' and he said 'hi dumb AM'".

Now we've had conversations about who's opinion should matter to us (I tell him to worry about the opinions of nice, caring people.......not some dufus that calls names......yes, I see the irony in that). We've talked about how kids that pick on others are usually trying to divert attention from themselves (embarrass someone else before you can be embarrassed). About how it's rarely "personal", they just pick any handy target.

None of that keeps ME from wanting to swat the child. Or at least suggesting to his mother/father that THEY swat the child.

It's times like these when I am SO thankful that he goes to a small school. Now, mind you, we've had some "issues" with a couple of students there, but it's handled appropriately and quickly.

Some might wonder why I have him in the summer camp. Well, for a few reasons. One, he already had a buddy in this camp and the other child has gone there a couple of years and loved it. Two, AM DOES have fun, once he's not in the gym (which is a short portion of the day......the Jeffrey thing bugs him, but it's not the reason he doesn't want to go. He doesn't want to go because of the noise.). Three, there's only a few more days left and then we'll be done for this summer.

I know, I know. He has to "learn to cope" with the noise and learn to handle wormy kids like Jeffrey, but what parent likes having to watch their kids learn those types of lessons? Especially when that child says "mom, I know I'm supposed to love him because Jesus loves him, so I'll pray for him to have a nicer heart". Talk about ripping my heart out: my tenderhearted (but, thankfully, tougher then his mom) boy just wants to be this kids friend and this twerp is mean to him.

At least AM has the appropriate response (pray for him, love him anyway), which is more then I can say for his mama.