You're killing me, SB

I don't feel good. My tummy started hurting last night after dinner. It felt like I had eaten too much, although I really didn't have that much on my plate. It was really hard to breathe, and I couldn't get comfortable. Perhaps in retrospect, I shouldn't have eaten that ice cream sundae right before dinner.

Then I woke up this morning feeling sick. I couldn't get back to sleep after Jack left at 5. This kid is really starting to get to me. Jack and I decided that tomorrow would be a good time for both of us for her to go ahead and be born. If she could just hang on until after the football game tonight, he has the whole weekend off, including Labor Day. I have pretty much every day off, so anytime is good for me.

However, I'm thinking now would be a good time. Jack's work schedule is really not as important to me anymore, since last night. Let me explain a few things to you. I used to have long, beautiful fingers attached to slender, gorgeous hands. It's true. But lately my hands have swollen up pretty badly. My real rings have been long gone, and now my fingers have swollen over the cheap replacements I bought at Claires. Which I guess isn't all bad, since now you can't see the green ring around my skin. It's just like in SBTB when the gang was about to graduate, and Zack found this great deal on class rings. Only they were fake, and they turned everyone's fingers green. Remember that?




Anyway, as you can see, my hands now look like giant blobs of play dough with five chubby sausages sticking out. And this just in: I've got cankles. It's true. I haven't really seen my feet in quite some time, but last night after cutting my socks off, I propped my feet up on the couch. It was then that I noticed my ankles were on hiatus. I'll spare you that photo.


I'm ready to get SB outta me and shrink back down to my normal self. It'll also be nice to be able to breathe again. and get my ankles back from their leave of absence. I really thought she'd be here by now, even though she's not due for 12 more days. I think I called her a "stubborn little parasite" to my sister yesterday, but MB didn't think it was as funny as I did. What would you call something that's been attached to your insides for nine months? feeding off your nutrients and causing all kinds of physical ailments? I've spoken to a lawyer about drawing up some eviction papers. If she's not here next week, I'm going to have my doctor serve her at my next appointment.

Did you see Alien?

OK, maybe it's not that bad, but I'm still ready to quit playing "host" and start playing mommy. I think things will be a lot more fun when she's in my arms and not in my uterus.

Anyway, I made some strawberry banana jello last night. SB's favorite. I think I'll go eat some. Maybe I can coax her out this afternoon. I'll let you know how that goes.

Also, I know there are strangers out there reading this who do not know me and therefore do not understand my warped sense of humor. Let me just go on record stating that all jokes aside, I love my little SB, stubborn or not. I'm going to be a great mom to the parasite, whenever she decides to detach herself and make her appearance.

Partying like it was 1909

Sorry I've beeen gone so long. No, it isn't because I had the baby. Sorry. I wish that were the case. I've been had twice in the past week, thinking I was going into labor and then not. She's a tricky little thing, but I still love her. I'm trying real hard to be patient with her, but it feels like she should be here already!

I've just been busy the past few days with important family business. Not the least of which was an 83rd birthday celebration extravadanza for Jack's grandfather last Friday. Those old folks sure do know how to party. I was expecting the usual family get together that we always have when someone has a birthday. Not so, this time. Jack's aunt got a little excited over this particular birthday, and boy did she plan a rockin good time.

We arrived at the retirement home about five minutes after 2, which is when the party was scheduled to begin. As we walked in the front door, we could hear quite a ruckus coming from the common area down the hall. There must have been 40 senior citizens sitting in that room, all enthralled by the karaoke singing man at the front. A man who was known only as Reverend Mordecai, his stage name, no doubt, came all the way from Sturgis, MS to entertain and delight the crowd.

At the moment we chose to walk in, the Reverend was really letting loose with his own rendition of "Behind Closed Doors," a song that I was previously unfamiliar with and for good reason. I think my face turned red during the chorus; I don't know how all the 80-year-olds were sitting there with straight faces.

He tried to take requests from the audience, but he didn't seem to have a very wide assortment of songs in his repertoire. Jack's grandad kept requesting, "I Can't Give You Anything but Love, Baby." But every time he yelled it out, Reverend Mordecai thought Jack's grandad was just trying to give him a compliment and responded with a hearty, "Well, thank you very much, sir."

The crowd was also entertained by a special appearance of Mother Goose, as she has dubbed herself, an 80-going-on-13-year-old woman who loves to be seen and heard. If you're from the Golden Triangle area, you no doubt know who I'm talking about. The Reverend was trying to get people up to dance, and he didn't have to ask Mother Goose twice. She shimmied all over the place with her dance partner, (Mere you will appreciate this- she was dancing with Sid Caradine) and did her best to stay in front of the camera.

Not to be outdone, Sid's wife piped up and asked if she could sing. Actually, she more accurately issued the Reverend a challenge: "Do you think you could harmonize with me?" It was a real treat for everyone's ears. Those who couldn't dance, rolled around the floor in their wheelchairs. Even Steven, the 55-year-old maintenance man, joined the fun with his own dance version of shake, rattle and roll.

We sang happy birthday 3 times, ate cake, then the staff closed out the event with a rousing rendition of the electric slide. except for one lady who couldn't quite figure the steps out. She finally decided her own freestyle version would be best, so she placed herself in between the other dancers and the crowd and performed that instead.

All in all, I'd say the party was a raging success. It was still going full throttle with the Cha Cha Slide when we left at 3:30. Those old folks sure know how to throw down. I hope when I'm 83, The Reverend will still be on the road with his traveling karaoke machine. Although in 50 years, he'll probably be 115 or so. A girl can dream though, can't she?

I demand to be taken seriously

To any innocent bystanders looking in on my life, it may seem that I spend a good bit of time either sitting in front of the computer or lying on the couch in front of the Tivo. While this may be true, what else am I supposed to do all day? I weigh nearly 300 pounds, and it's not easy to carry myself around these days, especially in the 115 degree heat outside. So I stay in.

I don't have a job, just helping Jack with the office work (which totally justifies my spending so much time in front of the computer). When Jack gets in from work, he looks so tired from working in the heat all day, yet I'm the one who wants a foot massage. I know what he must be thinking... When he left for work at 5 am, I was still in bed asleep. When he came home for lunch, I was napping. When he came home for good in the afternoon, I was lying on the couch anxiously awaiting the news-is Kooley or isn't Kooley the father?? and if he is, will he step up and care for baby Nevaeh?

Although he hasn't said it, I know Jack probably thinks I have become the laziest person in the world these last couple of months. But I ask, are you without clean underwear? Don't you have clean dishes to eat on and delicious food for dinner? Sure, you had to carry the laundry up and down the stairs for me. And I might have popped that delicious dinner out of the freezer and into the microwave, but while you were working hard in the sun all day, sweating it out while nailing shingles on someone's roof, I was busy making our daughter's heart and brain. How's that for a hard day's work? It's exhausting, I tell you.

And you thought your job was hard.

I am Emily's Multiple Personality

Bad news. I think I may have multiple personality disorder. It's a tough disorder to self-diagnose, but I took a course in abnormal psychology once in college, so I'm pretty sure I'm qualified.


I've been struggling with SB lately, telling her to hurry up and then freaking out every time I start having contractions. Then I start trying to push her back in. Some days I think I'm just not ready for that level of pain right now.


We had a little pep talk last week in which I told her not to be born until Monday (the 20th). I told her that it just wouldn't be fair for her to come on my birthday. I mean, I've been sharing my body with her for going on 9 months now; did I really have to share my birthday with her too? Also, the ladies from my church had put a lot of work into planning the shower on Sunday. It would have been so rude to miss it. She totally understood, and she stayed put all weekend. Then I thought I was ready for her to make her grand entry...or exit. However you want to look at it.


Obviously, she didn't come on Monday. Or Tuesday, even though I coaxed with all my might. Well, yesterday afternoon I started having all these contractions, and they started getting stronger. I freaked out and started telling her that I wasn't quite ready and that she was just going to have to wait. I wasn't prepared for the pain that came with these contractions. I didn't think it would really hurt until I was really in full-fledged labor. Not true. Apparently, BH contractions can hurt too. Enough to wipe the rosy glow right off my face.

Don't be such a wimp, you might be saying. But hold your tongue unless anyone has ever pressed ever so gently against your lower back with a jackhammer.


Obviously, I haven't been able to deal with the stress of imminent labor. After watching Fight Club for the first time yesterday, I figured out what must have happened. I created another personality to help me deal with the stress. I'm not sure yet what to name her, but she's a total wimp, so she should definitely have a wimpy name. Your suggestions are welcome.

Birthday Fun

What a fun weekend! I love it when it's my birthday. I let Jack sleep in a little Saturday morning, but as soon as he woke up, birthday fun began. He took SB and me to breakfast at City Bagel; then my mom and I went to LJs to visit. She was out of town almost all last week, so we had lots of catching up to do.

SB wanted to see her cousins (Caroline and Judah) so we stopped by to play with them for a while, then home to rest up for our big night out. We had a very busy afternoon of cuddling on the couch and watching a movie. Then to Richey's for dinner. SB was just dying for a good steak. For those of you who are not familiar with Richey's, shame on you. They have a fabulous salad bar, but Jack and I always go there on special occasions for the famous presentation.

Famous presentation? you may ask. Allow me to explain. At Richey's, it's all about the presentation of the food. The Chateau Briand is a giant filet that is served, according to the menu, as Richey's "famous presentation." The first time we ordered it, we were expecting the whole wait staff to bring it out on a giant platter while singing and dancing, fireworks in the background, fire dancers in the aisle, eating fire swords and throwing knives around, etc.

While the presentation was not quite as famous as we had expected, the meat certainly lived up to our expectations, so we still go there to celebrate special events.

Jack took a photo of me with the famous presentation to commemorate the occasion. I felt compelled to share it with you.

It's a piece of lettuce. But a very beautiful and famous piece of lettuce.

After SB and I were stuffed to the max, we capped the night off at the theater.

The day after my birthday is always such a letdown. After being catered to for the whole entire day, things always go back to normal on August 19. Not so this year. Luckily, I had a baby shower on Sunday, so the fun just went on and on all weekend. Unfortunately, my sister was in charge of taking pictures, and she only took one with my camera. It's of me, sitting my huge rear in a chair, stuffing my face with cake. I opted not to post that one. Thanks, MB. You can always catch me at my best.

The shower was tons of fun though, and SB got a lot of great presents. Her favorite part was the cake, which she had 2 pieces of - one at the shower and another one for dessert last night. I swear my doctor is going to kill me when I weigh in on Thursday. Maybe SB will hurry up and be born this week before I have to get on the scale again.

We're Gonna Party Like It's My Birthday

Sorry to be brief today, but it happens to be a very important day. Yes, that's right. It's my birthday. Jack is very excited about it. Today, I get to be the boss. Since it's a Saturday, he doesn't have to work, but instead gets to do everything I want to do. He is super pumped. Especially about painting the rocking chair and hanging the curtain rod in SB's room, which is almost finished, by the way. Pictures soon, I promise.

I had the whole day planned out, minute by minute, until Heather threw a wrench in my plans by telling me that Bops now has root beer frosties. I will now have to rearrange my schedule slightly to include a pit stop there. I'm sure Jack won't mind.

Have a wonderful weekend, readers, and I'll be back on Monday, as long as SB doesn't make her appearance this weekend. I've already told her to wait until after my birthday is over, although my doctor told me on Thursday that she could come anytime. I sure hope she doesn't ruin my weekend.

Also, many happy returns of the day to my dear husband, who for my special day booked us a beach house for the wine tour in October!! YAY JACK! Since we weren't able to get away this weekend (doctor's orders: stay home!), he went ahead and told me that we're going to spend Oct. 18-21 in Rosemary Beach with a few friends.

I can't wait!

Professional Tiler

I think I may have found a new career. I mean, I thought I was excited when I became a housewife, but this......I don't know. It makes me a little nervous to think that I may have missed my calling in life.

What is it, you may ask? A fire chief, like Heather? A cow viagra salesman, like Meredith? Or a magician/cocktail waitress, perhaps, like my brother Rob. Close, but no.

I believe I was born to be a ceramic tile installer. If you know anyone who does this for a living, then you have probably heard them complain about how hard it is. Such backbreaking work and quite slow-going at times. Don't believe them. They're only looking for sympathy.

I spent the better part of this week as Jack's assistant while he tiled the floor at our spec house. -Side note- If anyone is looking to buy a beautiful house just outside of town but still in the school district, reasonably priced with a great floor plan and on a large lot, let's talk. Have I got the deal of a lifetime for you. (Meredith and Philip are not the only salesmen in our family.)

But I digressed. As I was saying, I spent Monday-Wednesday laying 850 sq. feet of ceramic tile. And boy was I good at it. The first day was a little rough, because I hadn't quite figured out how to do it properly. I almost couldn't walk on Tuesday because I was so sore. But Taskmaster Jack dragged me back to work anyway, and bless his heart for making me go. Now I know what I've been missing.

You just have to figure out the right way to do it. I know what you're thinking. "Emily! You've been laying tile while 9 months pregnant?? How incredibly brave and strong you must be! I wish I had your strength and stamina!" Well, thank you, but I really don't deserve all that praise. Most of it, but probably not all of it. Allow me to share my wisdom with the rest of you. This is the way it is properly done.

A. Take a comfortable chair.
B. Take another chair, level of comfortableness not so important here, as this one is for propping your feet on.
C. Have snacks and cell phone within arms reach, in case you get hungry/bored.
D. Have someone else (Jack is really good at this) tile the floor while you make helpful suggestions. I've included a few for you first timers:

1. I think you may have missed a spot.
2. Don't forget to clean that baseboard behind you.
3. That line isn't very straight. Maybe you should go back and do that one again.
4. Didn't you just take a break like 4 hours ago? (you can't let the person who is doing the actual work slack off too much. It just makes you look bad.)

After I figured out how tiling is supposed to work, I enjoyed it a whole lot more. I kept busy handing Jack sponges so he could keep his work area clean. That was my most important job. I sat with my feet propped up and a bucket of water next to me. He would hand me a dirty sponge. I would clean it, squeeze it out, and wait for him to yell, "SPONGE!" Then I would hand it back to him.

And he even taught me how to use his tile cutter, so he could yell out measurements and I could mess them up. Math never was my best subject. I did cut a few pieces that turned out beautifully, but most of the time, I just created more work for Jack as he had to come behind me and fix my mistakes.

Regardless, if my career as a mom doesn't work out, I can always drop the kids off at daycare and go back to my first love. Watching Jack work, that is.

Also, watching Jack break his back this week inspired me to write another poem, this one dedicated to my husband. It's called "My Husband" by Emily Redwood. I know, I'm excited too. Here it is.

You broke your back, you hurt your knees, but you tiled the floor.
Your name is Jack.
A tiler from heaven, but you are a roofer too.
Selfishly, I try to keep you home, while the heat eats away at your employees' organs, like an unstoppable rebel force.
But I can keep you inside the AC no longer, as the tiling is finished. And I shall squeeze your sponges nevermore, nevermore, nevermore...until we tile again in heaven.

Voting in righteous george michael is noble

I just got a phone call. It was a good one. Andrew and Jennifer are sitting next to George Michael Bluth. Can you believe that??

Let's back up. Let's Tarantino this story.

First of all, Jack and I were scheduled to leave today with my brother Andrew and his wife Jennifer for Vegas for our ever-important fantasy football draft. However, SB's due date is way too close for me to be flying anywhere, so we're homebound while Andrew and Jen jet set around the country. I just got off the phone with Jennifer, who called to rub it in a little that they were on their way to Las Vegas and we were sitting in Stark Vegas. At least I assumed that's why she was calling.

Instead, she mentioned that they were laid over in LA, and they had just noticed Michael Cera sitting a few rows down.

Michael Cera is better known as George Michael (not to be confused with the singer/songwriter) on the insanely hilarious television show Arrested Development. Unfortunately, the larger portion of the Fox viewing audience was much too untelligent to appreciate the show, and it was cancelled.

Anyway, this guy is really funny; he's got a movie coming out on Friday called Superbad. I'll be sure to review it for you after I see it.

So I'm waiting to hear back from Andrew and Jen. I hope she gets the guts to say hey to him. I told her it was my birthday wish to talk to him on the phone. I'm anxiously awaiting a callback. I'll let you know how it goes.

I always miss the celebrity sightings. Last time Jack was in New Orleans, he hung out with Harry Shearer. I missed it because I didn't want to make the trip. Now I miss out on seeing George Michael. It's a shame. Maybe one day I'll get to meet someone famous. If any celebrities are out there reading this, I want to meet you. Post a comment and we'll talk.

An elephant never forgets

I can't believe how many things have happened recently that I forgot to post about. I guess I've been busier than I thought, what with all the Murry reruns that have been on lately.

My cute cousin LB got married almost 2 weeks ago. We had a blast the whole week before since she and Mere were both in town to do wedding prep. We went to Tipico, watched The Office and ate a lot of MSU ice cream (what do you mean, that ice cream wasn't for us??)

Here's the happy couple, thanks to LT. I totally stole this photo from her blog.

My mom and aunts hosted the bridesmaids brunch at my house on Friday morning. The food was so yummy. I thought surely my aunts would leave some of the leftovers in my refrigerator, but those hungry ladies cleaned me out!

The BMs at the brunch, plus a few extras.

All the BMs with LB

After a few hours on my feet, taking photos and whatnot, I was about ready for a break. So I put my feet up for a little while before the ceremony, and Mere totally busted me on it.

All I needed was an RBF and a little TV set. Would have been just like home.

The wedding was beautiful, and LBs dad kept the ceremony as brief as he knew how... Lucky for LB, my water didn't break or anything while I was walking down the aisle, but certainly not for lack of trying. I didn't pass out or have any leg cramps while standing up at the front, although I did all I could to keep the focus on me. (As if my gigantic stomach wasn't enough of an attention getter.)

My uncle assured me that if I needed to sit down during the ceremony, I could. We even tossed around the idea of having a large throne made just for the occasion, to be placed front and center in case my feet needed a rest. Unfortunately, we were not able to have one made on such short notice, so I just toughed it out.

The day after the wedding, several ladies hosted a baby shower for me and SB at Mrs. Bonnie's house. (You'll be hearing more about her when I post the nursery photos. She's the bomb.) Anyway, they bent over backwards to make everything look really cute, and they were very successful.

Here are the hostesses: Mrs. Sue, Lindsey, (fat me in the middle) Mrs. Cathy and Mrs. Bonnie

Lindsey made that diaper cake in the middle of the table. Can you believe how cute it is??

It was a fun shower with some of the best tasting cakes I have ever eaten. This shower definitely played a big part in my high score at the doctor's office last week.

Anyway, it was a really fun weekend, but I'm glad things have settled down. By the end of this week, SB's room should be ready for her arrival, and I think I'll be ready too. I'll be back tomorrow afternoon with an update after I see the doctor.

Some Assembly Required

Sorry for the extended absence; we've been very busy! Over the weekend we attended a wedding and had Jack's brother in town to visit. This time, we made him earn his keep. We put his rear end to work putting together baby furniture.

After putting together the crib, Jack was a little burned out on furniture assembly. I was ecstatic about the dresser and changing table; I begged the boys to put them together for me over the weekend. Rob made a huge mistake by telling us that he “kinda likes that sort of thing.”

So first thing Saturday morning, Jack and I went to pick up the furniture. First sign of danger: the box said “easy assembly.” When we got home, Rob was awake and ready for action. I made myself useful by parking it on the couch and pointing helpfully to the tools they needed.

"I've made a HUGE mistake."

Just how he wanted to spend his Saturday. Working hard to be the favorite uncle.

Jack sort of thought his contribution could be taking a nap while Rob worked and I looked on. Since Rob enjoys furniture assembly so very much.

Jack napped with Judah while I saw to it that Rob stayed busy.

We started with the changing table, which actually went together pretty quickly. From my view from the couch, I was surprised at how easy it was. Then we opened the dresser box. I wish I had a picture of the 5,000 pieces it contained. For a moment, we all stood (I sat) in awe of all the tiny pieces that were supposed to fit together to form one giant thing. Then I cracked my whip and put Rob back to work. I offered to help a few times, but ended up going to the kitchen for a snack instead (an RBF, of course).

We all took a short break to go to a wedding that afternoon. Then I went to a garage sale while Jack helped Rob with the rest of the furniture assembly. A long day of hard work, but the finished product...so worth all the time and effort I put into it. Jack was just glad that I wouldn't be hounding him about it anymore like I did when we got the crib. And Rob didn't mind the work either, especially after I told him that I would take lots of pictures and post about it on the blog.

So here's to you, Mr. Baby Furniture Assembly Guy. Thanks to you, Jack and I will never have to change our daughter on the couch, or the floor, or in the crib. Her clothes will be safely stowed away inside a dresser, not hastily hung in the closet or tossed about on the floor. So crack open an ice cold Jones soda, oh sultan of the screwdriver. And rest easy tonight, knowing that no baby will ever have better assembled furniture than SB.

Mr. Baby Furniture Assembly Guy

PS- I should also mention many happy returns of the day to my brother Philip, who helped Jack put the crib together last week. Philip, I found all the extra screws and nails that somehow didn't make it into the crib hidden at the top of SB's closet. I know you threw the instructions away halfway through the project, since you are a professional furniture assemblyman and pen salesman, and who needs directions anyway. If her crib ever falls apart due to lack of screws and/or nails, I'll know who to blame. Otherwise, no harm, no foul.

Hold your horses, SB

So I went to the doctor yesterday. And I was right. I scored WAY too high. I'm not going to say how much I gained...let's just say it was a lot. Dr. W. wasn't too mad though. He just laughed when he asked how I was feeling and I replied, "hungry." I promised him that I had been snacking healthy. I forgot to mention the RBFs.

Now for the good news. I think. He asked me if I thought she had moved down yet, and I said no. I was wrong. She's already in position for birth, 5 weeks away from the DD. Then he asked if I thought anything was going on down there, and again I said no. Wrong again. He told me that I'm already 1 cm dilated and 70% effaced. I almost fell off the table.

He told me not to go anywhere, because I'm not going to make it to my DD. Boy, was I excited. All day yesterday I was thinking, this is what I've been wanting since I got pregnant. Every day I wish she would hurry up and roll up out.

Then reality set in about 4 this morning. She woke me up with a severe case of the hiccups and a few violent punches in the bladder. I started thinking about the stuff I haven't done yet. We still don't have her car seat, and her dresser and changing table aren't here yet either! I need more time.

The news yesterday also made my fear of going into labor much more real. I just don't know if I can do this. Also, Jack and I had big plans to go to Memphis in 2 weeks for one of our fantasy football drafts. I hope she waits until after that.

On a brighter note, we are in a secret race against Jack's cousin to have the first great grandchild on his dad's side. We've already got the trophy on lockdown for his mom's side, but his cousin's baby (on his dad's side) is due only a week after ours. So, since SB is now scheduled to make her appearance a little early, I suppose that gives us an edge over the competition. I better find out what's going on with his cousin's fetus. I hope he's not coming early too. Maybe I should go ahead and schedule an induction?

So anyway, I'll keep everyone posted on her progress. I'm trying not to hyperventilate over here. It's so real all of a sudden! Dr. W. said I'd probably make it another week, but after that, who knows. My birthday is in 8 days; I hope she will at least wait until after that because we are going to party down next Saturday. You're all invited, but if my water breaks, please pretend not to notice.

Pregnancy Fears

As we draw closer and closer to the big day, I've sort of been letting my imagination run a little too wild. My biggest fear is that I will be somewhere, all alone, in a very public place, and my water will break. I don't even go to the grocery store by myself anymore. My verbal excuse has been that I cannot lift heavy items like the giant packages of bottled water that we buy on a regular basis.

Jack has been a good sport to go with me and take care of the heavy lifting, but the real truth is that I have this recurring nightmare that I'm in Wal Mart, my cart packed full of refrigerated/frozen items, and my water breaks. Everyone around me thinks I've just wet my pants and they are all laughing hysterically at the fat girl who didn't make it to the bathroom in time.

You know, it's a fact that pregnant women often have trouble with incontinence. As my uterus swells from the size of an orange to the size of a giant watermelon and beyond, this leaves little room for my bladder, which is now the size of a small grape, to expand.

Watermelon

Grape

While I have not yet had to deal with this particular problem, it's not a stretch to assume that many people WOULD think I had just lost control of my bladder if my water really did break in the grocery store. I have worked up several emergency plans for when I go into labor, depending on the time and place. If it happens in Wal Mart, we'll just pretend like we're leaving the cart only for a second to go check the prices on kiwi (those are near the exit). I'll have Jack walk right behind me so no one can see my wet pants, and then we'll make a break for the door.


I've also revised my walking route. I now stay much closer to my house, instead of walking a half mile away before turning around. I also keep my cell phone with me at all times, just in case. This morning I stayed within a 2 block radius of our house, on a new route; this one much more shaded.


On a side note, I don't believe I've ever mentioned the daminator on here before. I almost ran through his sprinkler this morning; it was so hot! There is a man who lives 2 blocks from us who drives a large van with a vanity tag. It says dmmn8tr. Jack and I were trying to decide if the man builds dams for a living or if he's just a Baptist preacher. (No offense to my Baptist readers; if his plate had said "Snakethrower" or "Poisondrinker" I would have guessed nondenominational. I love Baptists.)


I go to the doctor today, and I must admit, I'm a little worried about my score. I haven't been on the scale in over a month, since my last visit was just a sonogram and we skipped the other doctor visit routines. Lately, I've been downing RBFs like it's my job. I realized that this addiction might be a problem earlier this week when I went to the kitchen for my 2 pm feeding. I had a mini panic attack after I found the root beer, but when I opened the freezer I realized I had nothing to float with it! I had to break my "no going to the grocery store alone" rule since Jack had finished off the ice cream over the weekend but hadn't bothered to tell me about it.


Not to worry though. I got a gallon of ice cream and made it home without my water breaking in the store.


As I was saying, I'm a little worried about my score. While I realize that I'm pregnant, and therefore I am supposed to gain weight, I think I might have overdone it slightly. After my last visit, when Doc said SB was a little small for her age and maybe I could eat a little more, I've been to extremes to consume all things edible within my reach.


So I think I might score a little too high today on the scales. SB is probably going to weigh 15 pounds by the time she gets here. Lord, help me.

Entertainer Extraordinaire

Those of you who were present at Thursday nights festivities can attest to Jack's storytelling abilities. Although I thought I made it clear that he was not invited, since it is his house, we let him visit with us for a while. And oh the joy that abounded from our living room as Jack got comfortable with his audience.

He entertained for an hour, mostly with his stories about an interesting young man, who shall be referred to herein only as "Frost the Mute." When Jack gets going, it's hard to slow him down. He gets very enthusiastic when telling a story, often going to extremes to demonstrate the action for his audience.

One of my favorite Jack stories involves a certain establishment, dubbed by Jack as the "Land Of Wandering Employee Shmucks." You do the math. Jack frequents this establishment, often multiple times daily, to purchase items for work. One instance involved him attempting to return an item that did not work. He approached the counter with a large sign proclaiming it to be "CUSTOMER SERVICE" which is a rather ironic title considering how little the employees of this company care for their customers.

He explained to the 18-year-old "customer service expert" that he had just bought this tool, the tool did not work, he was not happy about it. He wanted another one immediately. Her response? A very matter-of-fact, "Go get it," as she continued to peck away at her keyboard.

Jack's eyebrows raised in surprise. There was only one explanation for her rudeness. So he asked her, "Is this your first day?"

To which she replied, "I been here for six month."

Jack: "You've been WHERE for six months? Hiding in the crapper?"

While she was not amused, Jack, as he often does, found himself quite hilarious but was eventually able to recover, go get a replacement tool and check out, with another customer service expert, of course.

I'd also like to bring up the fact that Jack has always been a comedian. When in high school, he always got good grades, but there was one instance where a teacher returned a paper to him with a less than satisfactory grade placed upon it.

His response? "I should have worked harder on this paper. I'm very sorry. I'll do better next time."

Nay.

Instead, he placed the blame exactly where it belonged. On the young teacher, who clearly didn't know good writing when she saw it. How dare she give him such a bad grade?

So, in front of the entire classroom, he asked her what did she think was the worst way to die? And also, did she have fire insurance on her home? All in good fun, of course. Until he got home and found out the principal had tattled on him to his parents. His punishment? An apology and he had to offer to mow her lawn for free for the whole summer. Wonder why she didn't accept?

Jack is also a mighty hunter. Until recently, we lived out in the country with our landlord's hunting land right outside our door. Since we saw deer in our yard all the time, Jack would occasionally feel the urge to "go hunting."

His idea of hunting, however, is him sitting in his nice, warm truck with a shotgun pointed out the window. I kid you not. On many occasions, he would call me in a whisper and tell me to be real quiet when I drove up the driveway because he was "hunting."

One December morning, around 4:30, Jack is restless and decides to "go hunting" in his truck. He rustles around the bedroom, looking for his gun and ammo, changing clothes, etc. Of course this wakes me up. After about 15 minutes of "hunting," he finally realizes that in December, the sun doesn't come up until after 6, and he can't see a thing in the thick darkness outside. So he comes back in, makes some more noise, and I finally decide I'm not getting back to sleep.

Since Christmas was only a few days away, we decided to beat the crowd and go get some Wal Mart shopping out of the way at 5 am. We took my little Altima, but he carefully placed his loaded gun in the backseat, "in case we see a deer when we get back."

When we got back, the sun was up and as we were about to find out, so were the neighbors. As we neared the driveway, Jack eased the gun out of the back seat, and, just in case, went ahead and pointed it out his window. We slowly pulled into the driveway and drove past the neighbors house. There at the window was our neighbor, naked, standing in shock as we drove past him, Jack pointing a loaded gun right at him.

We didn't speak to the neighbors for a long time after that. Jack didn't get a deer that season, but he did let me shoot one on Christmas Eve.

Call me Deerslayer.

Jack Redwood: Husband, Father (to be), Entertainer Extraordinaire

Well congratulations to me. and Jack. Today is our 3rd wedding anniversary. In lieu of buying him a nice gift, I thought I would pay blogging tribute to the man who made all my dreams come true.

We met, technically, when I was only about 15 years old. He and my brother were roommates at MSU. I seem to have lost all the wonderful photos of me at that age, but trust me, I was quite the looker at age 15. Trust me. However, he for some reason never took notice of me until I graduated from high school. My brothers were both so excited to hear how hot Jack thought I was, and they were both very excited when Jack started dating their little sister.

My mother always asked Jack when he was going to marry one of her daughters...It's funny how she stopped saying that after Jack asked my dad if he could start calling me. I'm sure the two are unrelated.

Okay, so there was a little tension when we first started dating-Jack is 5 years older than I am, and I was only 18 and living 2 hours away at the time.

After he got my father's blessing and convinced me to marry him, well, the rest is history. and now my family members are all counting their lucky stars that Jack is in the family. I wish I had a wedding photo to post, but our scanner is broken. Trust me, we both looked fantastic.

Fast forward about 2 years. We've been enjoying marital bliss long enough and decide it's time to throw a little chaos in the mix. We've had enough freedom to go and do and travel whenever we feel the urge. We spent enough time on our own, enjoying the late Saturday mornings and leisurely Sunday afternoon naps. Enough is enough! That's right. We decided to start having kids.

I'm not totally certain what drugs we were high on when we decided to nix the birth control and reproduce, but it must have been something good. I graduated in December of 2006 and we took a week-long cruise to celebrate over New Years. It was the most fun trip we have ever taken. We decided to make it a yearly event. A week after we returned from the Caribbean, a little surprise was waiting. A positive pregnancy test.

We went nuts; we were so excited. We were going to make great parents, for sure. We already had lots of practice with my brother's little girl.

Don't we look like naturals?

It was a while before reality began to set in. We were scheduled to go to Vegas next week for the all important fantasy football draft. However, at 8 months pregnant, that flight is out of the question. Our friends are going without us, and we'll have to make our picks over the phone. Our 2nd annual new year's cruise is also an impossibility with a 3 month old. All our fun, spoiled. What were we thinking?


Jack thinks we can just hand off SB to my parents and take off whenever we feel like it. After all, what are grandparents for? He also thinks that HE can sleep at night after she gets here, since I'll be the one who has to nurse her. He also thinks that our kids will never cry and/or throw fits in public. Nay, our children will be perfect in every way.


He also thinks he won't be wrapped around her little finger the second he holds her in his arms for the first time. He also thinks that he will be a strict disciplinarian; she'll never get away with anything. Those big brown eyes won't work on him. He's too smart for that.


I don't doubt him when he says she won't date until he's dead. I pity the poor boy who comes knocking on our door to take little SB out on her first date. Jack will probably be cleaning his guns in the living room, which he of course does all the time.

Jack can be a rather intimidating figure, when he hasn't just woken up from a nap.

In all seriousness, Jack's going to be a great dad. I have no doubt. I also think we're both in for a rude awakening, but we're both very excited. I actually had a dream last night that SB was born today, on our anniversary. Although I'm very ready for her to get the heck out of my uterus, which is now 1,000 times its original size by the way, she can't come just yet. We went to get our car seat yesterday, only to discover that they don't sell them in the store anymore. We had to order it online.

AFTER I confirmed the order and paid for it, the estimated arrival date showed up. It should be here in 2 weeks. Not one week, like originally promised on the Web site. So hopefully she will hold on another couple of weeks until we can legally take her home from the hospital.

I feel like I've gone on long enough for one day. I've got to prepare for an afternoon on the couch, watching Murry and our wedding video. I'll be back tomorrow to fulfill the entertainer extraordinaire portion of Jack's life. I have many stories. Few will survive.

Don't Trust your Voice Within

Alright, let's do this. "Haters" can contact Ashley at 1-800-I-Don't-Care.
If you don't have time to watch the whole thing, just listen to her intro, then skip ahead until there's only 1:40 left.

Terminal ADHD

Jack sent me this link, and I felt compelled to share it. First of all, I just want to say that I would like to dedicate this post and the video above to a really close friend of mine who has recently been diagnosed with the chicken pox. I don't really know how she's doing right now, but she's in my heart and in my prayers.

I'd also like to share a few of the comments that people have posted on youtube for this singing starlet. However, they will probably make more sense after watching the video.

"listening to this was like stabbing myself in the ear with a refrigerator"
"because of you i am now deaf, thanks to your singing i poured acid in my ears then prod them with my knife"
"Omg, my brother has just been diagnosed with ADHD, and he has only 80 more years left to live.. give or take a few years. Yep, it's terminal." [In one of her first comments, the girl in the video responded to a "hater" that her friend's ADHD was terminal.]

At first, I was sure this was a joke. However, as it went on, I became more and more convinced that this girl is really serious. I give it a 10.