Where I Got a Picture of Them Together That Was in Focus

It only took 4 adult baby wranglers, throwing leaves in the air, 150 worthless photos, and some screaming and hand-wringing to get this shot.

A career in photography will never be for me... Oh well, guess I'll have to stay busy with all my other careers.

If Hamlet Had a Baby: To Know or Not to Know?

Let me paint  you a picture of my basement.

Think of that final scene in Indiana Jones & Raiders of the Lost Ark.

You know, the one in the wearhouse.

 

Minus a few thousand square feet, our basement looks a little like this.  Most of the boxes? Filled with baby clothes.  Boy clothes. Girl clothes.  From preemie to 18 months.  If there were a baby clothes apocalypse, we're all set.

So we've been eager to find out the sex of our little 17 weeker.  20 week ultrasound here we come!  Find out what that baby's packing, and make a youge donation to Goodwill.  That was our plan.

And then during our doctor's visit on Friday, Ms. Doctor Lady threw some dirt on our passionate basement-cleansing fire.  "I wouldn't get rid of those clothes until the baby's born.  You never know if they tell you the wrong sex.  It happened just the other day."

First off- Not a ringing endorsement of their ultrasound department
Second-  What??? 5 more months of Indiana Jones?

So, if we're not going to be sure anyway, Brendan and I are tossing around the idea of kicking it pioneer style and waiting until the birth to find out if our baby is of the male or female persuasion.

What do you think?

Should we find out? Should we wait? Should we burn the baby clothes regardless and dance around it wearing faux-fur tunics?

You Know, That One Time My Dad Had a Stroke

Thanks to everyone for their messages of care and concern.  It meant a lot.  And I thought I owed you a bit of an explanation of what went down with my Dad. He's doing well and has recovered some feeling in his left butt cheek- which can only spell good prognosis, yes?   

3 Sundays ago, Brendan's phone rang.  "It's your mom," he said before answering.

If you know me in real life, you know I'm terrible about answering my phone.  Especially on the weekend.  And usually because it's lost somewhere in the house, car, or general wilderness of my life.

So my mom calling my husband's phone didn't really mean too much. Except that she was really trying to reach me.  And she could be trying to desperately reach me for any of the following reasons:

1. Need to confirm travel plans
2. Wants to throw away some dusty trinket from my childhood
3. Doom & Destruction

I'd been lucky enough to sidestep most of the #3 calls, except for my sophomore year in high school when the family dog passed away.  That was the closest I'd come to real loss.

"I'm calling about your dad.  He's okay.  But he's had a small stroke.  I'm going to let you talk to him."

And that was it. I was a mess- crying, snot flying everywhere. The Ugly Cry was out in full force.

Minor Stroke.

I don't know about you. But the minor part sounded like a whisper in my brain, overwhelmed by the bull horn of STROKE!

photo credit to strokesymtomsformen.org

The short of it-  He really was fine. Some doctor proclaimed his brain "pristine"-  Something I'm sure I'll hear about for months.  They might even get it printed on their Christmas cards this year.  Nothing wrong with his ticker, no sign of previous or imminent strokes, no speech or motor impediments.  He kind of looked like a faker - Except the fact that the hand tremor he's had since age 30 is gone in his left hand. 

I tried to function like a normal human being.  Brendan had been putting the pressure on me to go home and I had brushed him off.  But 24 hours and numerous random crying jags (thank you pregnancy hormones) later, I cried uncle.  I booked a flight to Nebraska, called my parents, rescheduled my clients, cried on the phone to my new supervisor (yikes), and made it happen.

And I have to tell you- this stuff puts life in perspective.  For real.

Deadlines, clients, laundry, voice mail-  All those things that consume me and pull me in 100 directions every day.  They aren't important.

I learned the best medicine is family.  Even if it  means flying to Nebraska to hang out on the couch and watch a Top Chef marathon. Because just SEEING your family,  hearing "Look at my magic hand!", can help solidify that your dad put the Minor in MINOR stroke.

Where I Almost Got a Picture of Them Together That Was in Focus

Almost

Poor blurry Finn... Not even black-and-white can make him look sharper. But we're getting close!

Halloween Monsters

I want to talk about a certain kind of monster that's unleashed on the 31st of October.  It shows up in the dark, skulks its way onto your porch, and reigns terror on all who cross its path.

It's the Halloween Asshole.

On first examination, it might look cute. It might be dressed as an innocuous princess or teddy bear.  Don't be fooled.  The Asshole will get you every time.


It looks like the kid who grabs the Honor Code candy bowl and dumps the entire contents into its bag.

It looks like the kid who sneers at your Milky Way and demands something different.

It looks like the kid who grabs eight (EIGHT!) candy bars and then bald-faced lies to your face that they only took two.... Two, my ass.

It looks like kids who push other kids out of the way, screaming "Gimmee! Gimmee!" and putting its grabby asshole hands into your bowl of candy.

We decided our kiddies were too young for trick-or-treating this year. Especially since there was only 1 parent on hand and our kids still wander into the street if given a chance.  But next year? We're going to practice. We're going to talk manners. And my kids will be dressed up as witches, spider man, or bears.  But they will NOT be going as assholes.  And that's all I'm going to say about that.

Vent over.  Here are some pictures of my Lady Bug and Chicken. Enjoy.  And I hope your Halloween was asshole-free.

 

Bloggy Paralysis

I've had blog paralysis lately.

First work was overwhelming.
Then hormones were kicking my ass.
Then we had to plan for a house renovation.
And oh yeah, my dad had a minor stroke last week.

Ho-hum.

So, I'm gonna fake it til I make it. Throw some cute baby pictures your way and hope that works.

 

Is it working?

Inspiration- Why hast thou forsaken me?