Avery used to be a milk-drinker. Then she wasn’t. Then she was.
Then it was a chocolate milk thing. It was da bomb! Now…not so much.
Last night the two of us sat down to dinner and I poured us each a glass of **GASP** WHITE MILK…
And I told her that if she drank it all, she could have ice cream. I know I know…bribery. It’s evil but effective. But soon it became a game – it wasn’t about the ice cream. It was about asking me 42,001 times “Do I have something on my lips?” Trying to get me to laugh and her oodles of giggling. So of course I had to get the camera out…
Whatever works, right?????
To live or work in Detroit. I am watching the news, and seeing the auto industry continue to crumble.
We lived in a bubble yesterday – watching MSU tromp on Louisville *GO SPARTANS* and then celebrating my father-in-laws birthday. I may have been the last to hear the news from Washington…
It’s a terrible thing to live in a state, a market, that is so tied to a single industry. It isn’t just the people that work at the Big 3…it’s the suppliers that this trickles down to. The retirees that receive pensions – definitely a thing of that past now. It’s the malls that are slowly having more and more empty store fronts. It’s the retail shops, such as the one I work in, that risks having to close. So many people…
And Hubby works for a *supplier* if you will.
It scares the living shit out of me.
And I know this economy is affecting all of us, everywhere across the country, so by no means am I trying to make this all about myself and my family. But reality is sinking in.
How much worse can it get?
I’m thinking about my friends that this has already affected – you know who you are – and I’ve got my fingers and toes crossed.
May the force be with us all…
For those that have been pregnant before, you may remember the CRAZY dreams that plague our sleep during these 9 (10) months. If you haven’t had the experience, trust me, it’s as bizarre as it can get.
Last night was no exception.
Let me set the stage for you – girls weekend. I’m pregnant, just as far along as I am now – 6 months. IRL I have started getting kicks that rival the worst that Chuck Norris or Jackie Chan can dish out. In my dream – I am showing my friends how Carson Bishop is moving and poking. I look down at my stomach and his whole FACE is pressed up against my skin – like he is trying to BURST out ala Alien. I’m waiting for my stomach to split open and have a baby with a top hat and cane do a jig!
He has red hair (like hubby) but fashioned in a mullet. With sideburns. And a beard. WTF? I mean, REALLY? His features were so distinct.
Crazy. I mean, beyond crazy. I had a hard time falling back to sleep after that one.
(Read this post carefully….I’ve put a surprise in there for y’all! I’ll let you find it!)
And this weekend’s project? Baby’s room.
We got the carpet installed on Thursday. And now it’s time for the chair railing and painting. It’s going to look awesome when it’s all done.
And I think we finally agreed on a name for the wee one. Hubby went out with his buddy last night and via text he agreed to the name that he actually picked out. When I get a final verbal confirmation – I’ll let you all know.
They did agree that it’s a good “hockey” or “football” name and it WILL in fact sound good when announced on Sports Center when he’s a first round draft pick. (Hey I can dream big for my little man, can’t I?)
And we have a date night tonight. Going out with friends for dinner. Good times.
I’ll check back later.
Oh – and I should add – I did email ABC about the content of their show. I got a generic response back saying that they get thousands of emails a day and they can’t respond to them all. Um yeah. Thanks bastards.
I am so fucking pissed off right now…
I wanted to watch their new show “In the Motherhood” tonight. As I am watching and Avery is settling into bed, there is a big thing about how there is no Santa – THE FUCKING MINUTE SHE WALKS INTO THE ROOM. She doesn’t realize what she hears…Whew. Then after the commerical break, as I am trying to change the channel, they keep fucking going on about it. WTF. It’s at 8 pm show. Hello ABC jack asses. Kids are still up at that time. Dickheads.
As I am trying desperately, and unsuccessfully, to change the channel they go on about it again.
I’m launching a champaign. Boycott them! Fuckers.
Today was carpet day. After spending hours getting everything out of the baby’s room and Avery’s room the carpet installers came. And it looks awesome. So finished.
I am not a hardwood floor fan, but I can deal. I’m a big girl.
But…Avery is not pleased. Apparently she is pissed because her new carpet:
1) isn’t pink
2) doesn’t have flowers on it.
Sorry. Let’s live by the preschool teachers words:
You get what you get and don’t have a fit.
How about it?
And I should mention that it looks so good that Hubby has requested pricing for the living room and our bedroom
Thinking back to when I was pregnant with Avery, I remember our online FTMs group having an in depth discussion about what we called our “nether regions” and the convo continuing on to what we would call our children’s genitals. (Take that search terms!)
My MIL and I have a disagreement. She taught Avery very young that she has a vagina (ST – there’s another buzz word for ya) and I was opposed to that. The last thing I wanted was my 2 year old running around talking about her VAGINA. Luckily Avery didn’t catch on. Instead Hubby and I started calling them her “parts”. In the bath, I’d tell her to “stand up for parts” and the mission was accomplished.
Shannie can appreciate the memory of this conversation. Her and Mister had the Front Fanny and Back Fanny. Works for them.
Last night Avery threw me a curve ball. As she was taking a bath, and I was putting laundry away, she asked me what boys have. Here’s how it went down…
Avery: Mom, what do boys have?
Me: What do you mean? (Knowing full well where this was headed. If I had a security camera in my hallway, you would have seen my deer-in-headlights impression)
A: On their bottoms.
M: What do you think it’s called?
A: I don’t know.
M: (trying to think quickly…what do I do? Shit. Think. Think. Think.) Well honey, they have boy parts just like you have girl parts.
Whew! Dodged that bullet. Totally something I would have let Hubby handle, had he been home. When I recounted the conversation for him later, before I told him what I told her, he said “Boy Parts”.
We’re on the same page.
And I know we are going to have to cross this bridge when baby brother comes home. But I have months to plan and dissect that encounter. This was off the cuff and I think I handled it pretty well.