Valentine's Day trash...

It's Wednesday, February 14 which means two things:

1. It is Valentine's Day, and
2. Tonight is trash night

For the most part, neither of those occurrences mean much to me. I'm not big on the whole "There needs to be a special day to buy stuff to prove how much you love me" concept. If you love me the right way, then I already know it and don't need proof. And, TR takes the garbage cans out to the curb every week so I never pay much attention to that.

However... today is a different story. Sort of.

TR and I cleaned up a little last night. Mostly we just gathered up the random garbage that was sitting around and I had him take the kitchen garbage out to the can for me. It's not that far, but the ice storm, my natural gracefulness, and my current medical condition I thought it was probably best for him to do it. No big deal right? Uh-huh.

Fast forward to this morning. I'm sitting on the couch watching GMA and happen to glance over at the table next to me. I notice my engagement ring lying there amid the coasters. Not a big deal, as I often lay my rings there when I take them off. (Yes, I take off my wedding and engagement rings. If your hands swelled like mine do, you would too.) However, what I failed to see was my wedding ring...

Much panic ensues... All sorts of scenarios run through my head as I run around crazily trying to locate the missing ring:

1. TR found it and has hidden it. I say this because he's not fond of the way I just lay them down where ever I happen to take them off.
2. Munchkin has found it and hidden it. Many things in our house go missing this way. After several rounds of interrogation it is surmised that Munchkin has not seen the ring.
3. This is my least favorite scenario and unfortunately the correct one: I threw it in the trash while cleaning off the table last night.
   

I THREW IT AWAY!!! I found it stuck to the wrapper of a juice box straw in the bottom of a trash bag full of discarded pizza, paper plates with frozen ketchup remnants, and equally disgusting bits of trash. Fortunately it was the first bag of trash that I went through, as I'm not sure my queasy stomach could have handle any more.

Guess I win the "Sucky Valentine of the Year" award.

Good mail

I almost never get good mail. Usually it's "You're PRE-APPROVED" and "PAY US NOW BEFORE WE BREAK YOUR KNEES!" Neither of these things inspire warm fuzzy feelings or a desire to walk to the mailbox (it's about 50ft away, but still- it's the principle of the thing).


My birthday brought good mail. Happy, cheerful cards full of well wishes. Also, the occasional cash and prizes.


TR and I got a valentine from his mother (yes, the one who hates me) yesterday. She likes to send cards. We get one from her for almost every occasion you could imagine- and quite possibly a few you couldn't.

Glenda sends me cards at random times too. Usually when I need the most cheering up. Munchkin got a Valentine's package from her today that had fun stuff and valentine's for all in it. Very cool.


Last week I ordered baby stuff online. We're talking bed, car seat, swing, etc... I WILL be getting good mail this week. Not just mail- but packages. It doesn't matter what's in a package, there are always fun to get!


I plan to start getting the baby's "room" put together as the packages come in, so be prepared for before, after and in between photo updates.

Baby stuff...

So we had a sonogram on Friday. My doc thought the baby was measuring bigger than she should be so she wanted to check on ultrasound. The answer? We're right where we should be. So my due date is still April 9. Apparently she weighs 4.5 pounds- give or take 11 ounces. And she is definitely a girl.


I finally bought some baby stuff this weekend. So I'm feeling exhausted (I am sooo not a shopping person, even when I'm not pregnant!) but relieved to not be completely unprepared now. I am annoyed by the abundance of PINK and lack of other colors for baby girls. Why do babies need to be color-coded? I know she's a girl even without her wearing some cotton-candy colored monstrosity. And strangers? Why do I care if the germy old ladies at the grocery store don't know what sex my baby is? I have issues with strangers that want to touch other people's babies...

Supposedly we are in for an ice/snow storm tonight. Woo-ha. Hopefully TR gets home before it starts because there is NO food in this house. If we're stuck here for a few days because of 4 inches of ice and we haven't gone to the store, things could get interesting.

The joys of growing up... Lesson #4

It's been a long while since I shared any of the bits of wisdom I pick up in day to day life. So here we go...

Recently Munchkin has become obsessed with armpit hair. Don't ask me why, but the child finds it hilarious. Every time TR takes off his shirt (my husband is a hairy beast!) Munchkin giggles and points out, "You have hairy armpits!"

Friday afternoon TR was getting ready to shower after work and Munchkin stated the obvious once more, "TR, you have hairy armpits! Hahahahahahaha!"

I said to him, "When you grow up you'll have hair in your armpits too." He looked at me as if this concept was fascinating to him.

"Really?"

"Yep, you'll have furry armpits someday," I told him.


"YEAH, and a BIG PENIS TOO!" This declaration was accompanied by a forward thrusting of the hips and a Superman-like, hands on the hips pose.

Apparently even at six years old the prospect of a larger penis is exciting. Who knew?

Useless miscellany...

I have now been 27 years old for 50 hours and 32 minutes. Strangely enough, I do not feel any older.

As of today I am 30 weeks pregnant. I feel about 3 years pregnant. I've also hit that point (some call it nesting, I call it ARRRRRGHHHHHHHH!!!!) where I am panicking about all the things left to do before the baby comes.

I spent Sunday (my birthday, no less) making my husband help me empty our stuffed bedroom closet of all the clothes that we do not wear. A large box and two lawn and leaf size bags later, we have an empty closet. Why? Because I had the brilliant idea that our closet is the perfect place for the new baby.

Before you start calling CPS on me, let me explain our closet situation. Our closet is about 6 feet wide. It used to have these horrible floor-to-ceiling bi-fold METAL doors on it. When we moved in with a curious 3 year old, those fab things were quickly removed. Actually, all the closet doors in our house were removed. Cuts down on pinched fingers as well as hiding monsters. SO, now we have a 6ft space in the wall with a bar for hanging clothes on with a shelf above. This space is across from a 3 ft wide vanity counter with a mirror (anyone who knows me knows how much time I don't spend in front of a mirror). There is also a door next to the closet that accesses our upstairs bathroom.

If we (WE being my husband of course), block off that door it makes a space approx. 6'x6' with the 3'x2' vanity as a "changing area." That's what, 42 square feet of space? I think that is more than enough room for a baby and all her stuff.

What about mine and the husband's clothes you ask? What is left after the purge fits in a small 3 drawer cart and the closet on the other side of our bedroom that is a third of the size of the "baby" closet. It's amazing what you can get rid of when you try. I am down to 6 pairs of shoes. That's right, 6. Some of you may remember a time when I had nearly 60+ pairs. Gone are those days... sigh.

Going hand in hand with my "oh holy crap, we have so much to get ready!" panic are also my "we only have 10 weeks to go and we have nothing for this baby yet!" panic, and my "this baby is yet another opportunity to make my mother in law hate me" panic. If you aren't familiar with these, I'll explain.

1. "Oh holy crap, we have so much to get ready!" This covers the above mentioned need for space for the baby and her stuff. Also, the need to have things cleaned up and organized so when people drop in to see her I'm not running around saying things like "don't mind the underwear on the floor" and "pay no attention to the dirty dishes shoved under the couch." Also in this category is my need to have MY stuff ready for the hospital, labor and delivery. My labor was induced with Munchkin- so I knew I was going to be having the baby when I went- yet I took NOTHING with me. My mother spent hours running around finding clothes for me and Munchkin, the various feminine supplies I needed post-delivery, and the little things like his carseat that I left at home. Also I need to make a list of things that I expect to happen (or not happen) at the hospital. That way there will be no arguments with pushy nurses about how I want things to be. I got in a very heated disagreement with at least one nurse during my last delivery.
2. "We only have 10 weeks to go and we have nothing for this baby yet!" Seriously, not a thing other than a few outfits I bought with a giftcard I got at Christmas time. No bed, no carseat, no diapers, no blankets... See why I'm panicked?
3. "This baby is yet another opportunity to make my mother-in-law hate me." This is not so much a panic as it is a given fact. The woman hates me. Before you start thinking she's some horrible evil woman, let me assure you she isn't. She's very a very quiet, polite, nice woman. However, she greatly dislikes me and thinks I am mean to her son. He will deny that she dislikes me, but he's already told her to keep any negative opinion she might have of me to herself. So how likely is it that she'd make it apparent to him that she doesn't like me? Exactly. Besides the "mean to her son" bit, I have also declared my forthcoming daughter's world to be a "pink-free" zone. Thus angering the extremely girly mother-in-law even more. "You can't have a girl without having pink" was met with an emphatic "Oh yes, I most certainly can and will."
   

Panics aside, I am putting the finishing touches on the spreadsheet (yes, I can be a hyper-organized geek when I want) I created to keep track of TR's work expenses from last year. We're waiting on one paper to come so that we can file our taxes. Woohoo! Yea refund!!!

Okay, enough rambling for now. My brain is tired and my socks are wet from making the fatal mistake of walking through the bathroom after Munchkin's afternoon bath adventure. Puddles... blah.