It's Time to Address the Infamous Question

Is it a Boy or a Girl?

I have exactly two weeks left until the big ultrasound. TWO FREAKIN' WEEKS! Do you KNOW how long that it? It feels as though I'm waiting for an entire lifetime to pass!

Grrrr . . . .I could find out earlier at a private gender scan but SOMEONE (aka "The Hubby") wants to wait for the one that our insurance will cover.

MEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

To help pass the time and see what others think, I'm starting a simple poll, which ANYONE can answer!

Woo hoo!

And, to help give everyone a chance at an informed guess, I'm going to address some of the typical "Old Wives' Tales" regarding gender predictions.

Here goes.

The Morning Sickness Issue: I did NOT have any real morning sickness. There were a few days here and there when I felt a little queasy, but that was it!


The Heart Rate Issue: At every appointment, the baby's heart rate has always been between 150 and 165.


The Carrying Low Issue: You be the judge:



The Food Craving Issue: I haven't had any consistent cravings. Sometimes, I only want protein based foods (ex: hamburgers), sometimes I want Pringles and salted almonds, sometimes I want dill pickles, and sometimes I want SUGAR, SUGAR, SUGAR and more SUGAR!


The Skin Condition Issue: My skin has been just as it was prior to pregnancy. Occasionally, I'll have a bit o' acne here or there but nothing out of the ordinary. I've had some people comment that I have the "pregnant glow," but I don't know how much I believe that.


The Headache Issue: YES, I get headaches . . . migraines, actually. They started around the 2nd trimester.


The Nose Spreading Issue: My nose has not spread or gotten bigger.


The Lunar Phase Issue: According to my Grandmother-in-law, whether or not the moon is set to increase or decrease at the time of delivery will determine the gender. Increase = girl. Decrease = boy.

According to the lunar calendar, the moon will be on the increase around the first of September.


The Fish Hook Issue: THIS was a new one for me, but is one used by naturopaths. If a pregnant woman looks up and the whites of her eyes (below the iris) are examined, the blood vessels will reveal the baby's gender. If there is a fish-hook shaped blood vessel in the left eye, the baby is a boy. If this fish-hook shaped blood vessel is found in the right eye, the baby is a boy. IF fish hooks are found in both eyes (and the pregnancy is a singleton), then girl overrides.

I have a single fish-hook and it is in my left eye.



I think that's about it -- although, if you know of other "predictors" that I have not covered, let me know and I'll address them.

You can find the poll at the top of my sidebar. It will be active from now till April 15th, at which time I'll reveal the results of the 14th's ULTRASOUND!!!!!!

More Proof that "S" is VERY Important

The Little Lady had another enunciation snafu this weekend and, again, it all revolved around the letter "S."

Watch the following video and see if you can catch the mistake. . . and, don't worry -- she's not REALLY cussing out her Daddy.

I need a Housekeeper -- Any Takers?

I have gone from having a house that was clean each day to a house that is . . . well . . . NOT!

It would be nice if I could blame the Hubby or The Little Lady or Charlie the Munnie. And, while I can certainly say they are responsible for the mess and clutter, I can't let them take the blame for the house being dirty. That is my fault alone.

Sigh.

I've turned in to one L.A.Z.Y. mama. I don't want to do a thing each day but lay on the couch, watch Law and Order, and eat deliciously addictive Cadbury Mini-Eggs. Those are the only things on which I want to spend precious energy. Dusting? Sweeping? Loading the dishwasher? Ugh! FORGET IT!

I have taken this time of laziness and low energy to do two productive things: I taught The Little Lady how to clean up her toys AND how to use the Swiffer.

That's right, The Little Lady has chores, even though her mama is too lazy to get her pregnant butt off of the couch. If I start singing our silly little "Clean Up Time" song, my industrious toddler gets to work, grabbing every toy in sight and throwing them in the toy box. She LOVES it! And, to be perfectly honest, so does Mama.

But Swiffer time is her favorite. Give her a loaded Swiffer and that little girl Goes. To. TOWN! All over the living room and kitchen she glides, proud of her big girl job.

Now, if I could only teach her how to make my bed and do laundry. THAT would make my life practically perfect in every way.



There's nothing wrong with a little toddler labor, is there? ? ? ? ?

Things are Getting Bigger . .. um, Better.

Despite the fact that I've been rather quiet this week, I have been rather busy. . . and so has the baby.

Ladies and gentlemen (if there are any), I am officially 4 months pregnant.


TA DA!

Holy cow -- does my butt look big to anyone else???

(Um, don't answer that)

Now, for some even MORE exciting news. At my appointment this week, which went very well, I . . . . scheduled . . . . my . . . . BIG . . . . GENDER . . . . and . . . . ANATOMY . . . . ULTRASOUND!

That's right -- we are now less than a month away from knowing if the Little Lady will have a baby sister or a baby brother. And I'm less than a month than away from getting to pick out a "bloggy nickname" for this baby. Woo hoo!

April 14th is the big day.

I know you can't wait!!!

Why Does Growing Up Require Glamour?

I'm sure everyone has seen the articles, and I'm also sure that there has been more than one blog post written about the topic. Good or bad, it seems like every preschool aged female cartoon character is suddenly growing up.

Strawberry Shortcake (before and after)

The cute, childish faces are gone and replaced by prettier, slimmer, and definitely older masks. Even Miss Holly Hobby, whose quaint, homespun look graced my first plate and bowl as a child, has been made over into a sassy looking preteen.


This concept of a toy makeover isn't something new -- in fact, Strawberry Shortcake has gone through several makeovers, as marketing teams have tried to create a version that would appeal to the current kid generation. But, her newest look is definitely the least child-like of all.

Gwen, over at Context Blogs, wrote an interesting article hypothesizing the purpose behind these new, slimmer, less-childlike make-overs. Are the new looks marketing to a generation quickly growing up . . . or are they for us? Wait, us? Yes, the collective "Us" -- the nostalgic parents who remember our first character plate and remember the sweet scents of Strawberry Cupcake and Lemon Meringue dolls.

Maybe. While I can understand companies trying to revive failing character lines of yesteryear, and appealing to parents in order to do so, I'm not sure that's the case for all of the recent makeovers. I simply can't wrap my mind around the concept of Dora growing up. She's the spunky preschooler -- the tomboy who thrives on exploration and discovery.

Dora the Explorer (before and after)

How does a slimmer, fashion-conscious girl, in ballet flats no less, plan on going through jungles and various terrain? How does creating such a "hip" character equal something better for our little girls? Wasn't the great thing about Dora her unabashed interest in science and the world around her? She wasn't caught up in trends and fashion. Even though those are fun topics (I admit it -- I love clothes and celebrity gossip), she focused on something special -- something our kids don't get on a daily basis from radio, music stars, or movies. She was aware of the world around her and she made sure everyone else was too.

It's obvious to see I'm not keen on the idea of a transformed Dora. No longer is this adventurous little girl being put forth as a role model for my toddler. . . it seems she's moving on to compete with Mylie C. for the devotion of the tween crowd.

Seriously? Dora really needed to grow up? It's going to be interesting to see how Dora's story lines change with her changing face and body. I sincerely hope the powers that be don't revamp her message and purpose as well.

This did NOT happen to me.

I know, I know -- this post is supposed to be titled "Not Me Monday." Well, I'm feeling just a tad contrary today so deal with the title change (Please and Thank you).

(1) This week, I did not trade in my tears for anger. Nope, "not me.' I did NOT suffer from unbelievable anger thanks to a wee babe (one that is now the size of an orange, in case you're interested).

(2) My Anger (which I didn't have) did not manifest itself in nearly every conversation with my husband. I did not become furious each time he tried to joke about a vaginal delivery; I did not find myself incensed each time he teased me about the pregnancy induced burps that I do NOT have.

(3) I did not threaten bodily harm to my (not so) sweet husband each time I didn't become angry. No, and I specifically did not threaten to remove body parts. No, not me.

(4) I did not become disgusted each time I cooked, and I did not use those experiences to talk my husband into eating out all weekend long.

(5) Speaking of eating, I did not eat the cheerios, fruit snacks, and cheese that I had packed for my daughter to snack on during Church. No, I wouldn't take food from my child like that.

(6) I did not drag my poor husband to 'Babies R Us' Sunday, where I did NOT spend 45 minutes trying to pick out "coming home outfits," and I surely did not tear up each time I picked a teeny-tiny outfit.

(7) And, before I end this post, I must tell you that I neither ate an entire jar of Vlassic Dill Pickle Spears this week nor did I eat two giant bags of Cadbury Mini Eggs. No -- that would just be gross. And, I am definitely not gross like that.

(yumm)

Welcome to Not Me! Monday, created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

You Know You're Pregnant When . . .

(1) All you can think about for DAYS is a luscious, mouth-watering steak burrito, with rice, black beans, lime juice, Monterrey Jack cheese, onions . . . all perfectly wrapped in a spinach tortilla. Oh, yeah -- and it has to be a FREEBIRDS burrito (cause nothing else is even close to being that good).



(2) You talk your husband into going to Freebirds, even though it is not close to your home, but when you get your luscious, mouth-watering burrito . . . you discover the essence of cinnamon in the flavor of the meat. You're the only one that can taste the cinnamon. And, now, your dream food has morphed into a "make you wanna hurl cause the thought of cinnamon and steak is GROSS" burrito. So sad.

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3) You start having really crazy, crazy dreams about being milked. That's right -- MILKED. Not dreams of nursing your child. Dreams of being hooked up to the modern dairy equipment used for milking good ol' Elsie. Only, in your dream, you don't think this is odd. In fact, it is the most natural thing in the world. What DOES seem odd in your dream, and the reason your dream-self starts sobbing, is the fact that you are apparently incompetent when it comes to milking yourself. The "suckers" won't stay attached and you're left with precious milk spewing everywhere.



4) Two days after your crazy dream, you and your family go to the Houston Rodeo and Livestock Show. You are excited that your Little Lady will get to see many of the elements of farm and ranch life -- the very elements you grew up with. You show her the tractor, the goats, the baby piglets. And then, you see it. The Milking Apparatus from your dream. Without any thought as to who might be around you, you excited yell to your husband, "That's it! That's what I was hooked up to!"

You ignore the shocked looks being thrown your way from the people crowded around you. You don't know them and they don't deserve an explanation.

Introducing Baby Charlie

Now, before anyone gets too excited, this is NOT a "I know the Gender so I'm blogging about it" post. Sorry if anyone is disappointed. (well, kind of sorry)

My in-laws came into town yesterday, which means the Little Lady was destined to get something new this weekend. Yes -- DESTINED.

Saturday, we went to a local flea market, thinking it was the weekend for our church garage sale fundraiser (it turns out it is next weekend); through the many crowded aisles and buildings we walked, stopping to look at and question the many oddities. If anyone reading this has been to Trader's Village, you know what I mean. You can buy everything from rare antiques to rare (or not so rare) perfumes -- from cow-skin rugs to churros -- from belt buckles to bras. Yes, you can buy a beautiful turquoise bra . . . and if you or your significant other wants a turquoise bra with silver lame appliques, well, you can get that too.

(For the record, such a bra was NOT acquired by anyone in my family; I'm just giving examples. I promise.)

In addition to the weekend-only vendors, there are many business that have permanent buildings out there and operate 7 days a week. One of these was a little pet store -- can you see where this story is going yet?

Of course, the first thing the Little Lady noticed was the "MUNNIES!" Oh, my goodness! She went nuts over them, wanting to hold them, pet them, kiss them (I drew the line at that), and feed them. Yes, the Little Lady reminded us all of the old Looney Tunes cartoon character, the Abominable Snowman: "I will hug him and squeeze him and love him and pet him, and I will call him George."

My mother -in-law offered to buy her one as part of her Easter present. The Hubby was not thrilled with the idea. Hmm -- actually, that might be a bit of an understatement. The Little Lady's daddy did NOT want a bunny.

But, he was up against a Grandma, a pregnant woman, and a toddler who were all completely in love with the furry things. His was a lost cause.

We came home with this:

The Little Lady picked out a sweet brown Mini-Rex male and named him "Charlie" (after her favorite cartoon show -- "Charlie and Lola"). Ok, ok -- it was Mommy that named him Charlie. The Little Lady just calls him "My Munny."



She LOVES him! It is absolutely adorable -- she tries to hand feed him, brings every grandparent over to look at him . The combination of the Little Lady and the bunny definitely rate a 10 on the cuteness scale. Even Daddy thinks so -- even if he won't admit it yet.

Faith, Family & Friendships

As a Christian, I haven't reached the point yet when I can "rejoice" over death. I know I should wholeheartedly, but there is still so much sadness over the loss of a family member or friend.

A friend of my husband's lost his two year battle to cancer this week. He was young, a teacher, a husband, and the father of two little, little children.

For two years, he and his family have struggled through many treatments, bad days, and the painful last few weeks. Yet, though it all, his wife has shown the most amazing grace and peace despite knowing what was to come.

Her blog is Faith, Family, & Friendships. The name alone tells you want this strong woman values and what has helped their entire family cope with their journey through cancer (and now, death).

I know that everyone is so happy that Brad no longer struggles to breathe, no longer struggles with pain . . . no longer struggles with life. But, at the same time, I can't imagine the pain of losing your partner, your husband, your best friend -- the one you have learned to lean on. Your daddy.

If you have time today, I would encourage you to visit her blog, get a glimpse of this amazing family, and -- if you feel so moved -- leave her a word of encouragement and prayer. At such a time as this, I can't imagine a more tangible way for us "bloggers" to be able to reach out to another.

Thank you.

Semi Wordless Wednesday

Houston's Newest Babe


The Little Lady and I visited the Zoo this past week -- always a favorite excursion of hers.


One highlight of the day was the visit to the Giraffe house, where we were were lucky to see the new baby giraffe out AND being fed.

Well, his worker was attempting to feed him; it looked like he was a little suspicious of that thing coming toward his great big lips.

WHERE are my Girl Scout cookies????

We're entering desperate times, people.

My Girl Scout order is late.

Do you realize how SERIOUS this is? I've been dreaming about Thin Mints and Caramel De-Lites for months. I placed my order, nearly drooling in anticipation of the sweet goodness that would be in my hands in a few short weeks.

Those few short weeks have come and gone.

That's right: G-O-N-E!

And my cookies aren't here.

I messaged my contact.

Haven't heard a thing.

I left her a message.

Nada.

What am I supposed to do?

I NEED COOKIES!!!!

It's Called "Enunciate."

Public Service Announcement: this post does a bit of an unusual word in it. My apologies if it is offensive. Blame my daughter.

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I've mentioned before that I have quite the little talker on my hands.

Did I pass along the fact that her pronunciation skills are a little lacking?

Fortunately, most of the time, her words aren't "that" off. It's easy to tell what's she is trying to say.

Examples:

Fin'em = Find him. (Despite the masculine pronoun, this phrase is used for EVERYTHING that she loses and needs RIGHT NOW.)

Yook = Look (A favorite word right now as she points out everything amazing to a 20 month old)

Lereal = Cereal (this word is usually screamed, especially at the end of Sunday School when her teacher brings out the Cheerios)

But, then there are the words that just do NOT sound right. In fact, they're just down right obscene.

The one word at the top of the list? Cock.

Excuse me, I meant SOCK.

Yeah, my innocent little girl says "Cock" every time she talks about a sock. It might not be soooo bad, except for the wee little fact of when she talks about socks.

The Little Lady loves to pick up her daddy's socks in order to smell them. She thinks it is HILARIOUS if they stink.

"Eeewwie! Kinky cock!"

Oh -- did I mention that KINKY is her word for stinky??????? Yes, it is.

Sigh. We're desperately working the letter S over here, but so far the lessons just ain't sticking.