Who are They Protecting, Anyway?

I can feel it.

Very soon I will be without Twitter.

Do you hear that? It is the soft weeping of me having to give my full attention to my kids. (This line  dedicated to SoHubby )

Why, you may ask?  Well, I can trace it back to my first Twitter account that I trashed.  Someone on the other side of the Internet said some nasty things to me and in a fit of rage (obviously against myself, because I am sure if the other person even knew about this it would only bring satisfaction).  Don’t worry I am over it and if I would have just listened to that small logical voice way in the back of my head I wouldn’t be where I am now.  Unfortunately, my irrational, batshit crazy voice speaks way louder.

It all started months ago when I decided, what the hell I will do the system upgrade on my phone.  I usually stay away from these, because 1. I don’t like change and B. they always screw something up.  But I threw caution to the wind and pressed the button to agree to permanently scar my phone. My contacts weren’t linking up to Facebook, like before.  I do so love seeing the profile pictures of my Facebook friends on my phone.  Far worst was my phone was dropping calls, people calling me couldn’t hear me (the most frustrating thing to me in the world) and the damn thing took forever to respond to a command.  You know a command like pull up my Contacts and call this person.  That action shouldn’t take 3 minutes.  Finally, after weeks and weeks of my husband screaming into the phone, “Hello!!!  Hello!  HELLO! Would you get this phone fixed!” I took my phone and all 3 kids to the Verizon phone.  You know, because I am the smartest gal in the world.

Here is where I explain to you about mommy brain and how technology has totally screwed us.  Let me ask you, do you know the phone number to your friend?  How about your husband’s cell phone number?  Better yet, how about your home phone or your cell phone number?  If you do then you are doing ten times better than me.  Since the invention of the cell phone and computers that remember everything for you, I have cleared that part of my brain for remembering all the Real Housewives’ names and cities.  Maybe I can call one of them and they can tell me my passwords.  When I canceled my first Twitter account, I got a gmail account, because in Twitter’s infinite wisdom you can’t have more than one account tied to one username.  Furthermore, once you cancel that username you can no longer use that email account EVER AGAIN!!  You know the one you have had since the early 90′s and the one you actually remember the password to?  So I only use the gmail acct to see who has started following me and who sent me a direct message.  I never used it for anything else and therefore have no proof, at least to the computer, that I own this account.  You see where this is going, right?  I only checked my gmail on my phone, who never asked me for my damn password.  Once you put it in that’s it, you are set for life, until you need a hard reset on your phone and it’s brain is completely erased, therefore leaving you in the middle of Verizon with 3 cranky kids and a single tear running down your cheek.  There I was with the Verizon associate asking me where I went to high school, which I got wrong according to gmail, and for any other proof that I, in fact, owned a gmail account that bares the same username of my AOL email account.  *sigh* You see my frustration.

I have to ask why such the tight security for gmail and Twitter accounts.  Maybe there are some out there that need this level security, but I am a simple SAHM that just needs a Twitter fix throughout the day to drown out the complaints of my meanness from my kids.  Basically, this high level security has protected my accounts from ME.  If I had any computer knowledge whatsoever, I would have been able to hack (are we still using this term?) into my accounts and had this problem fixed.  Right now, my only options are to prepare myself for when my computers and phone have their brains erased and no longer remember my passwords or go with my new gmail account, which lies blank for the moment, to make a new Twitter account.  That would mean I would have to refollow my current Tweeps (the people you follow on Twitter) and hope that they are not so pissed that I am so stupid that they have to follow me again because I can’t remember a word that I came up with all on my own.  And of course you know if this was some how condensed down to 140 characters on Twitter the hashtag would be #newworldproblems.  (I would use #whitegirlproblems, because it seems to be the popular one, but frankly I find that racist.  That’s right I said it.  Like other ethnic groups in America or in the rest of the modernized world don’t have these problems?)

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Guess Who is Coming to New Orleans?

TM/© 2010 Sesame Workshop. All Rights Reserved. Photographs courtesy of VEE Corporation.

That’s right!  Curious George is coming to the New Orleans Arena Friday, September 10 to Sunday, September 12.  You know that silly little monkey that has been getting into all kinds of trouble for over 65 years.

It was so nice of him to come down for my birthday weekend, but I have a feeling he will be a bit too busy.  How do I know that  Curious George is going to be busy?  Because the nice people at the Vee Corporation have allowed me to give the locals of the Greater New Orleans area a discount when purchasing their tickets. Just go to ticketmaster.com and enter the code FRIEND to receive $3 off, excluding Gold Circle, Monkey and Opening Night tickets.

TM/© 2010 Sesame Workshop. All Rights Reserved. Photographs courtesy of VEE Corporation.

So come on down to the Arena and see what kind of adventures Curious George gets into in his first ever Broadway style show. I hear there is travel, food, and, of course, silly adventures that not only include George’s best friend, The Man with the Yellow Hat, but many other new friends.  You will just have to see it to believe it.  And be sure to say HI! if you see us, because we wouldn’t miss this for the world.  One last thing, stay tuned to the blog,  because I have another surprise coming soon that includes some other friends that you all will know.  I wouldn’t miss if I were you.

Disclaimer:  I have received free tickets for my family to this show for doing this blog post.

Curious George Live!

A VEE Corporation Production in association with Universal Pictures Stage Productions and Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. CG: ® & © 2010 Universal Studios and/or HMH. Photos courtesy of VEE Corporation.

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20 Weeks (Half Way)

I guess it would have been nice to have my laptop as soon as I left the doctor’s office, because my news seems a bit, eh, now.  I have had about 3 hours to sit with the news that we will be having another girl.  It was exciting and I was happy when the doctor first told me, but now that we know the sex we need to get in gear and start the process of preparing.  I guess there will be some more excitement when I tell Amber and she screams to the heavens with delight.  I hope she can maintain that level of glee when she and her sister are fighting over clothes, space and stuff, in general.  Sam’s reaction was a little more subdued.  When he was asked if he wanted a brother or a sister, he replied with neither.  He is not so fond of the idea of another small human in the house.  When he was told that he was indeed having another sister, he didn’t say a word and continued playing with his toys on the floor of the ultrasound room.  And really what could he say.  He can’t stop it and he still gets to keep his room all to himself. 

Everything is going well, but with a few added “we will keep on an eye on it” things.  Apparently, the umbilical cord is attached at the boundary, BUT  the blood vessel is not on the outside, so “we will keep on an eye on it”.  I am not sure what any of that means and I asked twice, then gave up.  I am getting use to the doctor’s accent, but I didn’t understand her explanation so I let it go.  It is nothing serious, right?  If it was, there would be a more serious conversation that would follow, right?  Next on the wait and see list, is a little urine back-up.  Reasons this is important, but not serious:  1.  This raises our chances of Down Syndrome by a teeny, tiny amount.  And yes, that is what the doctor said with an added, “I hate to even tell you this”, so I take that as her duty to tell me, but it doesn’t mean crap.  2.  If this continues the baby could be born with a urinary infection and it would need to be treated aggressively, then all is okay.  The problem with that is sometimes the baby will have a fever, but the doctor won’t really know what is going on.  If left alone it could cause damage to the kidneys.  I was told all this, because I would need to tell the doctor that at 20 weeks I was told of the urine back up and maybe they should check for an infection.  This all depends on my memory, which is not good and even worst when I am all drugged up recovery from surgery.  Maybe I should write it on a Post-It  note and stick it to my forehead, now, so they can read it as they wheel me out of the operating room.  With each appointment I am coming not to mind these appointments, as long as they are in the morning before the hurry and flurry of the day catches up with the doctor and I am waiting an hour pass my appointment time.  I don’t care how much I like you and how good you are at your job, I HATE TO WAIT, especially after my scheduled appointment time. 

Next up are names.  I have one picked out and a possible middle name, but I can’t commit to it.  The more I roll it around in my head the more I like it, although SoHubby has his reservations, but want to keep the door open if I hear a better name to steal.  No, I won’t be spilling the beans, here, but I can give you a hint, Eclaire.  I figure with the last baby we should do it up right and start her life with a bit of Old Southern Drama.  Now, the real test begins as I yell several names out my back door and see which one sounds the best. 

Then we have the planning and rearranging of Amber’s room, because of the gender lottery she will be sharing a room.  I doubt it will start right away, but I would rather have things put in place so the baby can be dropped in the open space.  SoHubby made mention of rebuilding Amber’s crib.  We bought her a Crib 4 Life and it now serves as her headboard that leans against the wall since we never bought her a frame for her box spring and mattress.  Yes, now you can call CPS, because technically our daughter sleeps on the floor.  Anyway, the idea of rebuilding the crib is brilliant, because I can put off buying Sam a big boy bed, keeping him in his crib toddler bed longer.  All this means that: 1. the crib will match Amber’s furniture and 2. we only spend $50/60 on a new crib mattress instead of several hundred on a big boy bed.  Besides, we have been looking and can’t make a decision, so anything to prolong that debate is greatly appreciated. 

Also, I am kicking myself in the ass for giving away Amber’s 0-6 month clothes (Heck, it might be more sizes than that, but I am trying to stay positive until SoHubby can get in the attic).  At the time, I thought Sam was going to be are last and didn’t think I would have a use for them, except to use them for a trip down memory lane.  I should have kept them just for that reason.  Amber had some great clothes as a baby.  I hate that I gave those clothes away, but you know what that means?  SHOPPING!!!  I am sure there are some gender neutral things that I can borrow from Sam’s stash for the beginning, but depending what is left of Amber’s baby clothes we maybe starting over.  Another reason why rebuilding the crib is a good idea; more money for clothes.  I guess I will start saving some of Amber’s out grown clothes from this point on.  Just the basics that we can add to.  I had stopped at the 3T stuff, because I didn’t want to pay rent to store old children clothes.  Good thing she is still wearing sizes 4 and up, so there won’t be a big gap in sizes.  Let the sorting and packing up begin. 

This one little bit of information has made things a little more real.  Before I use to think I was in some bad Sci-Fi movie where the ultrasound pictures I saw on the screen was  some stock footage making me believe that I was pregnant.  I haven’t come up with a reason why that would be necessary, but never question the irrational thoughts of a pregnant woman.  Forget the sickness in the beginning and swollen belly, this couldn’t really be happening.  I guess that, now, we are closer to settling on a name, organizing clothes, and rearranging Amber’s room we are a little bit closer to all of this being a reality and not some hormonal whacked out delusion of a waddling, fat woman.

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What Everyone Wants to Know

We had the BIG ultrasound on Monday.  After 45 sweaty minutes we got to see the room where all our questions would be answered, well sort of.  We first saw a woman that maybe was a doctor or supreme ruler of all that is ultrasound; I am not sure she was all business and went right to work.  She measured the baby and then walked out so that the Doctor (I know for sure she was the doctor because her name had doctor in it) could come in and tell us the answers to all our questions, well sort of.  I guess it is kind of hard to have all the answers when your patients don’t really have any questions.  So the doctor measured the baby and told us that at this point she could tell us without a doubt that it is 30% for sure that our baby is perfectly healthy.  The other 70%?  Well, that is the mystery.  She couldn’t tell us until the baby is larger.  Then an appointment was made for 4 weeks later and I am sure the bill is in the mail.

My theory on all this testing on a woman who has had no history of medical or pregnancy problems is CYA (cover your ass).  We had told our regular OB that no matter what this pregnancy would be carried to term, unless the baby has other plans.  We were patted on the heads and told that an appointment would be made so that an extra special doctor, code for going to suck your bank account dry, can tell us about all the tests to tell us everything, well sort of, about our baby and we could make a decision at that time.  I will say that I am pleasantly surprised that none of the doctors that I have encountered have ever seem to pass judgement or made me feel as if my decision was the dumbest thing to ever cross a person lips, to which I am thankful for.  However, I do need to sit through the many “talks” of how my age affects the baby.  There are percentages, could happens, be prepare, and a whole bunch of this might be something but we can’t really tell. 

I am torn.  Since we have a high-deductible insurance plan most of these tests will be coming directly out of our pockets, so I feel as if these tests are unnecessary and I should just turn them down.  However, I was brought up in a society that puts doctors on a pedestal.  As I have gotten older, I have learned to question and research to make my own decisions, but there is still that pull to just go along with whatever they say and not worry about it.  It would be the easier thing to do, but very expensive, too.  Which is why I feel it is very important to surround myself with doctors that are willing to listen and help me make an informed decision.  Sometimes those doctors are hard to find, but I have been lucky to generally find ones that I am comfortable with.  I don’t blame the doctors for taking these precautions, matter of fact, I understand.  Basically, this ultrasound told us what we already knew, things are moving along as they should be.  We will go back for the second test, because SoHubby has some concerns about certain things, that can be seen on the ultrasound, and I am nothing but willing to put those concerns to rest, even if he still conducts business only to pop his head up to make inappropriate comments while doing these VERY IMPORTANT tests.  Maybe someone should warn the baby what he/she is getting into. 

So without further adieu, here are the pictures that told us everything we needed to know and will answer the question that is on everyone’s mind, what exactly is it that you are having:

Drumroll, please:

We are having a…

A blob?

Or, it could be a:

In the words of Sam, a scary monster?

Or, it could be a:

A baby.

Sorry folks, it is too soon to tell, which is probably the real reason I will go back for the second ultrasound.  Hey, each out of pocket expense will go towards our deductible and we will have that insurance company paying 80% in no time.   Mama is ready to start buying gender specific stuff.  The big worry these doctors should have is my wrath if they tell me the wrong sex and I have some major returning to do.     

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Be Careful What You Wish For

Remember all that moaning and whining I did long ago, because I just had to have another baby.  Of course, we weren’t going to do that, because it wasn’t the responsible thing to do and MY! GOD! $21,000 a year in school tutition. [Side note:  If you are going to use school tuition as birth control, remember to scream it before the act is done.  After makes no sense and you just look like an idiot.  And you husband may just have a heart attack, which will make it very difficult to get from under his lifeless body.  Learn from me people.]  Well, guess who is knocked up?  I will give you three guesses and the first 2 don’t count.

It seems that totally out of my control my husband went and knocked me up.  I won’t go into specifics, because GROSS! parents doing it; just know that yes, it is his fault.  That is my story and I am sticking to it even under oath.  Does that mean I am unhappy?  Nah, not really.  Sure I am unhappy because I have a constant feeling that at any moment the whole world may get to see the entire contents of my belly or that I would like to sleep for the next 10 weeks or so, but other than that I am fine with this decision my husband made totally on his own. 

We are both a little on edge about adding another member to the Southern family.  I mean come July 2009 there will be a new stranger moving in and I guess we are mandated by law to give him/her the essentials for survival and I guess we should get to know him/her (Man, that is going to get tiresome, but I refuse to call him/her it.) and make him/her part of the family.  Just a fact of this baby making business. It ain’t pretty, but it is what keeps the world going.

I have another concern and it has to do with the baby that moved in on February 2, 2006.  It seems he has decided to grow up and not consult me at all.  Yes, Sam is officially a Big Boy.  So much so that he marched right up to Santa handed over a bag full of his binkies and then happily took a picture with the man in red.  I can’t tell you when I have been more happy than to get a picture of both my kids smiling.  It seems that Sam maybe throwing caution to the wind and not insisting on being an old grumpy man in the body of an almost 3 yr old.  I fear that all this will be casted aside once he has to welcome a new member into the family.  I fear for all of us, because this may not go well.  Although, I think he may be an okay middle child, considering he is not one to go unnoticed or unheard. 

As for the binkies, oh yeah there are some problems, mostly of the sleeping kind.  He did okay last night, but at the moment he is laying in his crib yelling for me and other incoherent things. I am sure it is his own way to curse Santa and my existence, because you know we MADE him give up his BINKIES!  One day, maybe not today or tomorrow or 10 years from now, he will forgive me.  Then we can start on that whole circumcision thing, which I will happily blame on his father.

So, yeah all this should be fun to try and do for a third time.  Then again, I may actually get my other wish which would be for a child that sleeps through the night as soon as it exits my womb, is totally agreeable with anything and everything I say and never once calls me MOTHER!!  I swear if Amber calls me that one more time in THAT TONE I am going to spilt my head in two and show her a MOTHER.  Oh yeah, all this is going to be great fun.  Stick around for the third and final round, because it just might kill me.

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Southern Bloggers Unite

Are you sad and weepy from being unable to attend BlogHer? 

Are you tired of everyone in the Blogsphere talking about BlogHer and how they are going to meet so and so?

Are you unwilling to sell your first born just to attend a conference across the country in a city that would never allow you to walk down the street with alcohol in your hand or maybe get a glimpse at some random woman’s boobs?

Are you really just looking for a way to get away from your kids and husband for a couple of days without packing in the cover of night and sneaking out the door?

Then I have just the thing for you, SoBloU. 

The great and mighty Queen of Shake-Shake has convinced me, with all her whining, to invite her, and anyone else within a good reach of New Orleans, to come on over, get together and have a little fun.  We may not have all the fancy that BlogHer has, but that just means you can spend more money on liquor and great food.  We will, also, have NOLA, whether she knows it or not.  Who else will know where the absinthe can be found?

There won’t be any speakers on how to self host and bring in new members, but I am sure at some point someone will stand up and proclaim their love for the whole table and then promptly fall to the floor. 

There won’t be any great swag bags overfilled with free stuff, but you will learn how to avoid street performers, nudie girl pictures, the lure of the Lucky Dog and how to stumble down a crooked street without spilling your drink. 

You probably won’t meet all those big bloggers that you have been reading for years, secretly in your office late at night, but you will meet some of the most interesting people that ever graced the earth.  You do know that they most interesting people live in the South?  We are kinda too busy not dying from the intense heat.

There won’t be any scheduled events, except maybe the drinking and eating.  Sorry, but that is very important down here and we must keep to a schedule. 

There will be sessions of exploring the French Quarter and Magazine street.  Again, sorry, but if you come on over and I have escaped the company of my husband and kids, I am going to go to Magazine street and shop. DAMMIT!  So you can either come along for the ride and no one gets hurt or you can sneak away and drown your sorrows in one of the many bars that can be found just about anywhere in this city. 

If this interests you and you promise not to blame the missing of a huge Blogger conference in San Francisco on me, then by all means drop me an email or leave a comment.  I will be more than happy to call some hotels, get some rates and have a loosely thrown together agenda ready.

Did I mention that there will be drinking and eating? 

We are planning this for the weekend of July 18-20.  Nope, you read that right. 

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Child Style

I know it has been awhile since I posted over there, but I have a new post up, today.  Do you get heart palpatians when you shop for swimsuits for your little girl or girl teenager?  Well, join the club.  Please tell me your position on this heavily debated (and I mean on Mommy boards everywhere) topic.

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Fruits of My Non-Labor

Around every February my husband starts bugging me to go to Home Depot and get gardening supplies.   I can usually hold him off until late March.  The longer I can hold him off the longer I can NOT help when the time comes to use the stuff.  While he was off loading his flatbed with things like grass seeds, mulch, and chemicals to kill pests and the above, I was looking at the cute little herb plants.  Isn’t everything cute when it comes in little pots and price under $3? 

George had given me an herb garden one Mother’s Day, even though I hate the outside with such a passion that I avoid it at all costs, but it was destroyed during some kind of hateful weather.  I did like the easy access to some fresh herbs that are hard to find in the grocery store, so I decided to get only what I would use.  Then I saw it, tomatoes in a pot and cucumbers in a pot.  Ooooooh!!!  We eat those on occassions and I can grow them in a pot without digging into the ground, thus minimizing my outside time.  I do love me some tomatoes and they are in just about everything we eat.  So, I picked up a few, knowing full well that I wouldn’t check on them or water them or even know where they were planted or anything else having to do with their growth.  It was all left up to George and he knew it going in. 

Color me so surprised when I walked pass “my” plants one day and notice little green balls growing from the vines.  I think my neighbor jumped from my squealing.  Then I quickly forgot about them when a lizard jumped out at me and tried to eat my eyeball.  However, I woke up one day to find these lovelies on my counter:

A little smaller than I am use to, but red, shiny and guaranteed to be organic, unless you count dog pee and lizard droppings as a problem.  I can’t wait to cut into one and find out what my debit card and husband can produce.  But wait there is a problem.  Remember that little time I spent in the ER?  Well, one of the foods on the verboten list was tomatoes.  DUH!!!  Screw the doctors!  They can’t even pin point what is exactly wrong with me and I have been feeling almost human with the aid of Prilosec.  So, I think tonight I might just slice into these lovelies and enjoy them with a little garlic salt.  This one is for you grandpa!

Next year I am thinking of strawberries.  I think this summer, alone, we have kept the strawberry growers in business.  (Don’t worry I buy Louisiana whenever possible.)  Because if this woman can keep her garden alive and producing, even through the grossiest of times, then so can my husband.  Remember honey, this is our process: I purchase, you keep alive.  It has worked so well in most aspects of our marriage. 

One last note:  See how pretty the picture is?  I GOT A NEW CAMERA, YA’LL!!  I am so happy.  It was more than I wanted to spend, which I didn’t notice until I saw the reciept a day later, but I am so happy with it.  (Me + credit card=dangerous)  I think I have figured out all the doo-dads (look at my tech speak) and it is smaller and lighter than the old one.  I can, even, use the macro function and 1. totally understand what that means and 2. have it come out this good. Also, thanks to my email pal, who told me about digital and optical zoom.  I’s beez a photographer. 

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Summer Update #1

Along with the rest of the world, we celebrated Memorial Day with swimming, eating Popeye’s and visiting with family.  It was a fun, yet very tiring day.  One thing did occur that no one expected,Amber lost her first tooth.  It is unclear if it fell out on it’s own or if her apple experiment (eating hundreds of apples day after day) finally worked.  So, now she has one more hole in her head that has profited her a dollar and drama for months to come until the permnant tooth takes it place.

And to make sure you know exactly what tooth is missing from his sister’s head, Sam was willing to provide a more in depth demonstration.

So helpful that boy when he is not screaming for whatever injustice that has befallen him at that moment.

HOT REPORT:  Yesterday, the heat and humidity made you want to kill, but too tired to go through with the feeling.  I have only been out for a few moments this morning, but there is a slight breeze and I didn’t melt as soon as the hot brick of summer hit my face. 

 

 

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Right Time, Right Place

As I wander through the Valentine display at Target trying to find something that might jump out at me for hubby, an announcement was made.  An announcement so great that many stopped in their tracks.  I rarely pay attention to these announcements, because they are generally about morning huddles or some other Target nonsense, but today would be the day that I would listen and change our lives, FOREVER.  The announcement would pull me away from my mission and pull me toward the nexxus of the universe. I would  try to walk casual over to the counter, but I my insides were urging me to pick up the pace.  I met with the nice boy (when did they start letting 12 year olds work?) to ask him about the message I had just heard.  I asked him to be gentle as he took my hand and gave me the assistance I needed.  There was one last thing to do, call the husband and get his approval.  With excitement in his voice, he gave me the go ahead and I proceeded to the recieve the holy grail of retail items.

I quickly went through the checkout line, before anyone got wind of what I might have that could make a grown woman so giddy.  I carefully put it in the back of the Family Mobile and debated about whether I should take my precious cargo to the grocery store or go straight home.  I told myself I was being silly and went to the grocery store.  I couldn’t stop thinking that everyone knew what I had and was going to find a way to get it. 

I hurried Sammy along in the grocery store, throwing things in our basket, knowing that we would be unable to leave the house for several days.  The whole time I am wondering, did I lock the car, did I hide the valuable item well enough, will it still be there when I get back, how much is that ham, anyway?  I make small talk with the cashier wishing that she would just hurry so I could get home and get my prize possession secure.

As I make the long trek home, I purposely go the speed limit and pass up our weekly trip through the Wendy’s drive thru.  Sam would protest and I couldn’t give him the reason why.  He may not understand and his excitement might give it away to the vehicles that surrounded us at the stop light.  I worry if the cops might stop me only to make up charges so they could bring me in and confiscate the item and have it all to themselves.

I pull into the driveway only to panic at the sight of George, his employee and his employee’s girlfriend.  Would they know what I have?  Would they try to take it from me?  Would I have to fight to the death to bring our prized item home safely?  And why the hell are they blocking my garage, anyway?  I secretly get all my bags in with the prized one concealed among the bags of groceries.  Whew!!  I had gotten home safe and I didn’t have to give up my child or fight to the death to do it.  It is safe and sound, currently sitting comfortably ontop my countertop, waiting for us to talk nice to it and truly make it a memeber of the family:

Wii have joined the revolution.
Viva la Wii!

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