Sly dog

Alex has a baby doll that he mostly ignores in favor of his cars and robots, but occasionally, he'll dig it out from under his bed and the two become inseparable for a couple of days until the doll gets accidentally kicked under the bed again.  When Alex was about 18 months old, he gave the doll a name:  Baby Po.

We're in the Baby Po phase again, and Alex has decided since he's potty training, well, Baby Po has to be potty trained too.  Of course.  We've spent the last two days alternately taking Alex and Baby Po to the potty (never at the same time for some reason).  Alex will say "Baby Po Poo Poo!"  and we'll all run to the bathroom and Alex will set Baby Po on the toilet and we'll sit, and sit, and sit until Alex has decided "He pee peed!" and Baby Po can be taken to the sink to have his hands washed. 

I thought this was such a cute thing for Alex to be doing, training his doll to use the potty, until I realized the true motive behind it.  Yesterday, the last two times we took Baby Po to the potty, Alex requested a "pee pee treat" for him.  I keep a little tupperware of small pieces of candy (cut up licorice, gummy worms, etc) to reward Alex for using the potty instead of his underpants.  The first time I went ahead and gave him the candy.  Alex put the licorice up to Baby Po's mouth and said "yummy Baby Po!"  then quickly, if I'd have blinked I'd have missed it, popped it right into his own mouth.  I fell for the trick the second time too, only he didn't even bother trying to feed it to Baby Po, he just ate it himself then walked out of the bathroom with a big grin on his face.  That sly little dog.

New mattress, poop update

I am anxiously awaiting the delivery of our brand new king sized mattress this afternoon. We've been thinking for years about upgrading to a king bed, and after we did our taxes earlier this week and discovering that our return will be sizable (John has since adjusted his withholding information so that we can actually use this money during the year this time instead of handing it over to the government for no good reason), we've decided to go ahead and do it. 

So last night, we all hopped into the family van and went in search of a new mattress.  It started out a bit rocky, in that I wanted to go one place, and John was thinking of another, then we passed the place that John wanted to go to, and accidentally ended up back on the freeway with no way off and in rush hour traffic no less, then I realized I didn't have the address of the place I wanted to go anyway so we had to go home, look up the address and set out again.  So there went an hour of our evening.  We then proceeded to the coordinates to the mattress place I wanted to go to, only it wasn't there!  Luckily a couple of blocks away was a place called "Action Wood" with a Sealy sign.  John and I both thought it appropriate to purchase our new bed at a store called "Action Wood", so we stopped and went in.  When the salesman introduced himself as Darwin, we knew this was the place for us.

Darwin turned out to be the best salesperson I've ever dealt with, and I think I now know more about mattresses than I'd ever thought was possible.  John and I laid down and tossed and turned on almost every mattress in the store while Alex happily bounced from bed to bed.  Eventually, we found one we liked for a price we could afford, Alex plopped down next to me and declared "It's comfy!".  It was.  We bought it.

We also splurged and got ourselves a new comforter set with the new sheets we needed.  We ended up with a set that I never would have picked out on my own. It's very traditional, and I tend to lean toward more contemporary, but it was the one set that we could both agree on (John had such a strong negative reaction to all of the sets I'd suggested, at one point, I thought he'd actually throw up.  Geez, I didn't know I had such bad taste!) and it matches our carpet and wall color.  It was also on sale for $50!  SCORE!  Now I feel like such a grown up.  A nice big mattress, sheets and comforter that match...  All we need now is a headboard (for which we'll probably wait a while) and to finally hang up some pictures in our room and we'll be set.

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In TMI news, Operation Potty is still in full swing, and I think we're making some good progress.  The last two days Alex has gone through only four pull ups.  All of them only poo poos.  He is reliably peeing in the potty every time, even when we're away from home!  Also, as an added bonus, he's woken up the last three mornings with a dry diaper.  I was getting discouraged about the pooping because he'd come tell me he had to poop, I'd take him to the bathroom, he'd pee, insist that he was finished, get his "pee pee treat" (a small piece of candy), then five minutes later he'd poop in his pull up.  Yesterday, I decided to give him a better idea of what I wanted from him.  When he pooped in his pants, I took him to the bathroom and dumped the contents into the toilet and told him that the potty was where poo poo goes, not in his underpants.  It seemed to have worked, because this morning he came to me with urgency in his voice "Mommy!  POO POO!"  I took him to the potty, and lo and behold, he produced a poop!  Well, it could have been a fluke, but I was impressed none the less.

Let the collecting begin

Now that we know we've got another boy on the way, the urge to start preparing for his arrival is beginning to overcome me.  I know we've got four and a half more months to go, but I can't help myself.  I bought some new onesies yesterday (I'd thrown all of Alex's newborn onesies away, they just couldn't be salvaged), a cute new outfit and John ordered Alex's new carseat so we can clean up his current one and readjust it for another newborn.

(If you're interested, we have a Britax Roundabout and loved it so much that we've decided to buy a Britax Regent for Alex.  If all goes well, these are the only two car seats we'll ever need for the boys.)

I am trying to be as conservative as possible and re use as much of Alex's baby stuff as possible.  But, there are some things I still need to get.  Thankfully, the list is very small:

• A new dresser.  Alex's was cheap and small, and I'd like to get a nice big one for the boys to share



• A baby sling (I'm thinking about getting a Peanut Shell or a Hotsling)



• Baby washcloths and hooded towels.  I'm still using the ones I got at various baby showers for Alex, and I'd like to get some new ones.



• Newborn diapers.  Once again I toyed with the idea of cloth diapering, but have decided against it.  I know, I know, I'm single handedly filling our landfills with my children's poop, but I've really looked into it, twice now, and have decided it's not for me.  At least not now.  I'm hoping I'll have Alex in cloth training pants by the time Baby 2.0 is born, so hopefully I'll only be using disposables for one child at a time.



• Some new baby blankets.  Most of Alex's thicker blankets (quilts and stuff) are in good enough condition to pass down, but the blankets I'd used to swaddle him as a newborn are looking a bit raggedy.  I'm planning to make some new flannel baby blankets.



• A new diaper bag.  I bought one recently and it's already falling apart, so I'll definately need a new one in the next few months anyway.



• Clothes-wise, we only need a few more oneseis, baby socks and hats.

Not a bad list.  I should also put a king sized bed on the list too because the three of us barely fit on our queen bed now.  We'll definately need a bigger bed to add another body.  We don't co-sleep, but we do a lot of snuggling and book reading in bed together at night and Alex usually falls asleep in bed with us before we transfer him to his own room.  We'll probably keep this routine up with the new baby too.

What we need, is a dog

Lately, one of Alex's favorite things to do is to try to entice the cat to come play with him.  He'll ask for "kitty food", which is a container of kitty treats, and he'll shake it while saying "Kitty!  Meow meow!" and running around the house looking for her.

In times past, a single shake of a kitty treat container would cause the cat to almost involuntarily bolt from wherever she was hiding to appear within nano seconds at your side meowing for a treat.  Sadly, once she discovered that it was Alex doing the kitty treat containiner shaking, it has caused the opposite effect.   Maxine HATES Alex.  She always has, and likely, always will.  She's a crotchety old lady after all, at 13 years old, resents the hell out of having to share her house and humans with this revolting smelly creature that is Alex.

It makes me sad.  He LOVES animals, even the cat, and the look of pure joy on his face when she occasionally lets him pet her is absolutely priceless.  I so wish we had a pet that would let him play with her.  Midnight (aka, The Poo, our late Cocker Spaniel) was great about letting Alex chase him around and pull his ears.  Even though it's probably bad timing to add yet another member to our household with a new baby coming (and a cat that will likely throw even bigger fits should we even think about it), I can't help but continue to pester John about how our family isn't complete without a dog.  This is the longest I've ever gone in my entire life without a canine companion, and it's just not right.

Baby, named. Maybe

According to me anyway.  I went for a walk this morning in an effort to help my ever agonizing back pain (FYI, it didn't work.  I feel worse, in fact, I'm now immobile on the sofa at the mercy of my two and a half year old) and about halfway around my 1.5 mile loop I had an epiphany.  I suddenly knew exactly what this baby's name should be.

Strangely, the first name is one I'd thought of earlier, but quickly vetoed for a few different reasons and the middle name isn't John like we'd always planned.  The name does, however, conform to all of John's naming rules and fits quite nicely with Alex.  Also, working under the assumption that Baby 2.0 will look just like his big brother, the name would suit him. 

I came home from my walk and announced to John that I had decided on the baby's name.  He wasn't so sure.  He didn't hate the name, but he wasn't in love with it either. I spent the next couple of hours trying to convince John that this was it.  This was the name.  By the time I dropped him off at work, he'd quit trying to come up with reasons we shouldn't use the name.  I wasn't sure whether or not he'd come around or he was just sick of hearing about it (I suspect the latter). 

John wanted to wait until Alex was born before we decided on a name.  He could have been Ethan John until about 10 minutes after he was born and we finally, officially, decided on Alex Richard.  Ethan John is still in the running for Baby 2.0.  John's also considering the names Colin, Lucas and Evan.  But, as far as I'm concerned, this baby will be Max James Dillier.

And the winner is...

BOY!

We're having another boy!  And he looks to be a healthy boy at that!  I am so excited I am bouncing off the walls (bad back and all!).  I couldn't be more thrilled.  John is excited too, though, I think he was the tiniest bit bummed that it's not a girl, but after listening to me go on and on and on and on about how AWESOME having two boys will be, he now seems just as excited as me.

For modesty's sake, I'm not going to post a picture of his boy bits.  We'll just say that it was, ahem, VERY obvious what his gender was and there is no way we could have come away from that ultrasound without knowing he we had another hot dog in our family.

Ah, ain't he cute??

He admits it

We're watching The Power of 10 and the question is "What percentage of Americans say that the word ya'll is part of their regular vocabulary?"

Me:  I say ya'll all the time.  I think it's going to be above 30%
Him:  You never say ya'll
Me:  Honey, I say it all the time. 
Him:  Well, I have never heard you say it
Me:  When was the last time you actually listened to me when I talk to you?
Him:  Good point

He loves me!

John came home on his lunch break and brought me a package of Oreos.  They work better than Tylenol. 

poor me

Back hurts.

Can't stand, sit, walk, bend over or pick anything up that weighs more than a post card.

John refused to stay home and take care of me because he doesn't love me has to earn a living.

We have no chocolate in our house.  NONE!  Severe back pain REQUIRES chocolate.

I can't lift Alex into his carseat to go buy chocolate.  *wimper*

All I can take for the pain is Tylenol and it's about as effective as eating a jelly bean.

BOO HOO!

Stupid, stupid, stupid

About a year ago I was in physical therapy for a herniated disk in my back.  I went to physical therapy several times a week for about two months and it seemed to be getting better, so I quit and just continued to do the exercises at home.  All was well until the last few weeks, my back has begun to hurt more and more.  Whether it's due to the growing belly, the growing Alex (who insists on being carried all the damn time) or a combination of both, who knows.  What I do know is, it is bound to get worse as the pregnancy progresses and then I'll have two kids to carry around all the time.

Despite my aching back, I decided it would be a great idea to take Alex out sledding with some friends today.  I didn't think I could possibly hurt myself.  I mean, sliding down a hill on a piece of plastic doesn't seem to be all that risky, and I'd just take it easy climbing back up.  What I didn't count on was a gigantic hill with many, MANY bumps in it and a child who, after having the bejeezus scared out of him from speeding down the hill with his screaming mother, outright REFUSED to climb up the hill by himself, requiring me to actually carry him and the sled up the hill that, now that I was at the bottom, looked to be a 90 degree incline straight up for a mile or two.  And I did this THREE TIMES before our little group (that included a four year old, 2- two and a half year olds, 2- one year olds and 4- thirty-something moms) realized that there were much smaller hills better suited for both our toddlers and our now aching leg muscles.  By the time we were done sledding, I was hobbling around like a 90 year old crone and needed help lifting Alex into his car seat.

Stupid is as stupid does, and in my case, stupid is a five month's pregnant, already overweight and out of shape woman with a bad back carrying a two and a half year old wearing fifty pounds of snow gear up and down a freaking mountain.  I deserve no sympathy for the pain I'm enduring right now.  I did it to myself.

Predictions

We have our 20 week ultrasound THIS WEEK!!  I'm am literally shaking with anticipation.  Not so much to find out the gender of Baby 2.0, but more for confirmation that this child is actually human (though, ultrasounds can be misleading.  They told me Alex was all human, but it truly seems as though he's got to be at least half spider monkey). 

John is predicting that this baby is a girl.  He doesn't even have to think about it.  When asked, he'll answer immediately "It's a girl".  I'm a little more hesitant, but I'm going to go ahead and predict girl also (why not, I have a 50/50 chance of being right after all.)  Alex, when asked "Are you going to have a brother or sister" will answer "BRUDDER!", however, if asked "Is the baby going to be a boy or a girl" will answer "Girl".  So, he seems undecided at the moment.  I'm sure we'll all be happy with a boy or a girl, as long as it's not a two headed lizard or something.

Hopefully, we'll find out Thursday!

Maybe we need a poo poo and pee pee song

As bad as I thought it would be

I admit it, the first two days of this potty training business had me believing that my son was some kind of potty prodigy.  He was peeing and pooping in the toilet and only had a few dribbles in his Pull Ups.  Now, however, he's only giving me a drop or two in the toilet, then peeing full force into his Pull ups.  What the hell?  What happened?  I think he's sick of it.  At first it was a game.  Something new and exciting to do!  Now he wiggles around on the toilet and stands up midstream soaking me in a spray of pee.  This morning he assured me that he didn't need to poop at all ("No poo poo!  I don't need to!") while on the pot, then five minutes later a turd appeared in his underpants.  Aaaarrrrggghh!

John tells me I'm taking him too often.  That I need to give him more time between trips to the toilet.  So I went from 30 minutes to one hour, and now we're soaking through a pull up between each trip.  So, um, yea, that didn't work.  I'm not ready to quit though, I know this is going to be a long process, and as much as I'm hating it, now that I know what I'm in for with potty training, I'm more determined than ever to get it done before I have two kids.

Update from pottyville (like you really want to know)

Calling John at his office:

Me:  HE POOPED IN THE POTTY!
John:  Ok.
Me:  REALLY, ALEX POOPOOED IN THE POTTY ALL BY HIMSELF!  WOO HOO!
John:  That's great.

I then launch into a very detailed and wholly unnecessary play by play of the events.  Including grunting sound effects and a full description of the deposit complete with turd-count.

John:  uh huh.
Me:  AREN'T YOU EXCITED?  AREN'T YOU SO PROUD OF HIM!  WOW!  YAY!  POOPOO IN THE POTTY!  HE POOPOOED IN THE POTTY!
John:  I'm happy for you, but I think I'm going to get back to eating my lunch now.

It's potty time

Despite my misgivings about it, I've decided to go ahead and give potty training a real try before Baby 2.0 is born.  I don't think I can express how much I don't want to do it.  I don't wanna do it!!  I think some part of me just hoped that if I waited long enough Alex would just potty train himself.  Like, say, the day before he starts pre-school, he'd suddenly want to wear big-boy under pants and my part in the whole thing would involve nothing more than going out and buying some Underoos.  My biggest concern is that I have absolutely no clue how to go about potty training a 2.5 year old.  I've read about six books on the subject and countless websites, and every single one says something different along with a list of neuroses your child will acquire should you do it wrong. 

So, we started yesterday afternoon after Alex woke up from his nap and guess what?  It's actually going pretty well.  Did you know that Alex can pee on demand?  I'm taking him in to potty every 30 minutes and he produces a nice little stream of urine each and every time.  It helps that he thinks peeing is the coolest thing ever.  He has yet to attempt a poop, and I doubt we'll be successful with that today as we'll be out and about most of the morning (which is prime pooping time) and I'll probably just diaper him until we get back home. 

We'll have to see how all this turns out.  I'm actually hopeful that since Alex seems pretty agreeable to the whole thing, we might have some success.  But, he's still really young and I'm not going to push him.  So far though, it's not nearly as traumatic (for me) as I thought it would be.

It's been a rough morning

It started out fine enough.  We went to mall to walk and Alex got to play a little bit in the indoor playground with some other kids close to his age.  For a change, no biting, hitting or stealing of other kids' snacks was involved.  We had to leave early though because it was SWIMMING DAY!  We'd made plans to go to the indoor pool with a friend and her two boys for the afternoon.  Alex was ecstatic.  All he wanted to talk about was swimming.  "Go to pool?" (Were we going to the pool?) "We go swimming?"  (Would we be swimming?)  "Caden dere?"  "Would Caden be there?"  "Pool wiff water?" (Was there going to be water?)... and so on. 

All morning we'd talk about swimming this and pool that and how unbelievably awesome it would be.  When we got home from the mall, Alex helped me pack our bag of swimming stuff, suits, towels, extra swim diapers, etc.  When we were finally ready to go, he ran out to the car and banged on the door "Swimming now! Swimming now!".  But, alas, twas not to be. 

I knew as soon as we walked in the doors of the rec center something was amiss.  There were about four kids close to Alex's age crying hysterically.  We walked up to the counter, the whole time Alex was chanting "Swimming! Swimming!".  The lady behind the counter looked at me and frowned. 

"Are you here for tot time in the pool?"
"Yes"
"SWIMMING!"  Alex chirped at her
"The heater went out and the pool is very cold"
"Oh no" I said
"SWIMMING!" Alex was now pulling on my arm
"You can go in and feel the water, but I'm pretty sure it's too cold for your little one."

We did go and stick our fingers in and the water was indeed too cold.  No one was in the pool.  Alex was understandably distraught about the situation.  He cried and wailed and tried to run back to the pool area screaming "Pool!  Swimming!  I Want SWIMMING!"  It was the saddest thing you've ever seen.  I didn't know what to do.  I tried to pick him up and carry him out to the car and Alex started flailing around saying "Bad boy! No time out! I want swimming! NOOOOOO!"  Poor kid thought he was in trouble and that's why he couldn't go swimming.  It damn near broke my heart. 

The only thing I could think of doing was take him to McDonald's Play-land and buy him a Happy Meal with a toy.  I didn't have my phone with me, so I couldn't call our friends to make a new plan.  Luckily, they had the same idea as me and we ended up meeting them at McDonald's. Things started to look up, Alex got two toys in his Happy Meal (it must have been Leftover Toy Tuesday because he got a felt pencil topper and a Polly Pocket) and he played happily with his buddies in the play area. 

Then it all went to hell again.  Alex stayed in the play area while his buddies ate their lunch.  I was talking to my friend and I heard Alex crying (it still amazes me that I can pick out my own child crying amongst the noise of dozens of other 2-4 year olds running around and screaming).  I went to investigate and saw that he was being beat up by a couple of three or four year old bullies.  Well, not "beat up" so much as pushed around and then being pinned to the ground.  Alex is usually a pretty tough kid who can hold his own with the older kids, but my poor little guy was terrified and even after I sent his four year old buddy Kennan in to rescue him, he wouldn't come out of the play area.  My friend, knowing my fear of going into one of those tube-like play areas and getting stuck, especially in my current bulbous condition, she climbed in to clear out the older boys and fished my son out.  He wasn't hurt at all, but he never quite recovered emotionally, and sat on my lap for the last 20 minutes or so we were there crying at anyone who would look at him.

Now we're home watching The Incredibles and Alex is cuddled up in his blankie.  Poor kid.  First disappointment then being bullied at the McDonald's.  I can only hope things get better after nap time.

John's naming rules

1. Cannot be the name of someone we are related to, friends with, or might come in contact with more than once a year.  Unless we are specifically naming the child after that person.



2. Cannot be a name we have "bad associations" with.  This vetoes naming our potential son after John's grandfather because that happens to be the name of my ex husband.  Also a name I like happens to be the name of one of John's old girlfriends.



3. No presidential names (like Kennedy, Regan or Clinton)



4. No biblical names



5. The name has to be "American".  Meaning we can't use names that are obviously from a different culture or country (e.g., Paco, Sven, Pierre or Kumar)



6. The name can't mean anything in English (even with different spelling).  Most names mean something in some language somewhere, but he doesn't want our child to be named something like Paige (like a page in a book) or Brooke (as in a stream) or Cole (like a lump of coal)



7. No cars (Mercedes, Porche, Astin, Cooper or Bentley are all out.  Also Harley, even though it's not a car, but a motorcycle that happens to be one of my favorite sounds in the world)



8. No names that are also names of a widely known company (Unfortunately, my very favorite name, Avery, is a paper company)



9. No names that have multiple different spellings.  Like my name Jamie or Jaime. This is a problem because there is a trend where people give their children a common name then spell it in a unique way.  For example, instead of naming your child Ashley, you name her Ashleigh. Essentially, if John has to ask how we would spell it, it is vetoed.



10. No geographical names (e.g., Austin, Dakota, Paris...)



11. No androgynous names.  The name has to be distinctly male or female.  Unfortunately this vetoes Avery again, also Afton, Peyton and Delaney.



12. Cannot contract into a common nickname.  No Nicholas (Nick), Benjamin (Ben) or Abigail (Abby).  We can, however, name our child just the nickname (which is why we have an Alex instead of an Alexander).



13. The name can't be a common last name.  (e.g., Conner, Sullivan, Anderson, etc.)



14. The initials can not spell a word or common acronym.  Like Max Alan Dillier (MAD) or Benjamin James (BJ)



15. Even if the name conforms to each and every rule, John still has to like it.  This vetoes about 99% of the names I've come up with so far.

I'm still getting used to Alex talking. In actual sentences with words that make sense.  It's so damned cute I can hardly stand it sometimes.  I'm serious, the kid can say anything and I'll ooh and ahh over it.  Even the 7am ritual of coming into our room and saying, no, demanding "Wake up Mommy, COME ON WAKE UP!" is adorable.  Last night Alex went up to John who was sitting on the sofa and he pointed to John's lap "Itchy balls? Daddy itchy balls?  I have itchy balls."  Ahh, how cute :)

Dreaming

I had my first dream about the new baby last night.  It was born premature and right after the birth, I rushed home to be with Alex and completely forgot about the baby altogether.  When I came back to the hospital, finally remembering I'd had a baby, it was several months later. I didn't even know what the gender was, so I just looked around at all the babies to see if I'd recognize one of them as my own.  I finally did.  It was a boy, looked just like Alex right down to the big blue eyes and long lashes, only this baby had lots of blond hair and someone had named him Thomas (though there was a football player in full uniform, presumably guarding the nursery, who insisted he looked more like a Jacob).  Since he was born premature, he was very tiny and sickly and for some reason, they had him sealed up in a little box, about the size of a shoebox, but made of glass, so no one could touch him.  Even though he'd never seen me before, when I picked up the glass box, he opened his eyes and smiled at me, like "Oh, you're here Mommy, I'd been waiting for you!".  I woke up immediately.

This dream is interesting to me because it represents one of my worse fears.  That I'll forget about this baby.  No, I don't think I'll leave it at the hospital for months, but I really do worry that this child will always run second to Alex.  Already I forget that I'm pregnant, realizing with a start that I don't even know if I've felt the baby move in the last few days.  I am so involved with Alex.  So crazy in love with Alex, how is this baby going to fit in?

I know this is a common fear, and I'm reassured by my friends that I will in fact love this baby just as much as I love Alex.  I'm sure they're right.  When Alex was born, I was surprised by how much I loved him.  I wasn't prepared for the intensity of my feelings for him.  I'll bet something just like that will happen when I have this baby too.  I hope so.

Meat, topped with meat served with a side of meat

Unfortunately our new year resolution of improving our financial state has conincided with my second trimester.  This means one thing.  Meat.  Lots and lots of thickly sliced slabs of dead cooked cow (and occasionally pig).  Yummy.  I've been trying to make due with the occasional cheeseburger, but I'm telling ya, it's just not cuttin' it.  I want steak.  I want prime rib.  I want shredded pork on a bun.  I want pot roast. (Oh god, I'm actually drooling right now!)  This is conflicting with our financial plan because getting these things cost money.  I don't normally eat meat, so I don't know how to cook meat, leaving my only option to get meat at resturaunts.  Unfortunately, McDonalds does not have steak on their dollar menu.

I remember the overwhelming need for meat during my last pregnancy.  I was working at the time (making enough money to finance my meat addiction) and would walk to the deli across from my office and order a foot long cheesesteak every single day.  (And I actually wonder sometimes how I gained 60 pounds, gee, how could that happen?)  I suppose with the plethora of bad things I could be craving, meat is hardly strange or unusual, or even particularly unhealthy. 

I'm thinking an appropriate name for this child, should it be a girl, would be Audrey, as I can almost hear the baby calling to me from my womb "FEED ME SEYMOUR!"  Thankfully this baby is only asking for cows, not Steve Martin.

Like father, like son

I've got my laptop open and I'm doing something I'm embarassed to admit.  No, not looking at porn, but almost.  I'm reading celebrity gossip.  Alex is doing his now regular routine of trying to evict my laptop when he stops and sticks his face real close to the screen.  "What are you doing?"  I ask him.  He looks back with a big smile, points to the picture that has caught his attention (Pamela Anderson) and says "Boobies!"

"Do you think it's a girl"
"Maybe it's a girl!"
"Are you hoping it's a girl?"
"I'll bet this one will be a girl"
"I think it's a girl"
"Don't worry, this time you'll have a girl."

Blah blah blah girl, blah blah girl, girl, girl, girl, girl.....AAAAARRRRGGGHHH!  SHUT UP ALREADY PEOPLE!

I find it annoyingly interesting that everyone automatically thinks I'm hoping for this baby to be born with a vagina instead of a penis.  Everyone from friends and family, to neighbors and even strangers I meet in the elevator inevitably, after hearing I'm pregnant, say something about the possibility of this baby being a girl. 

I've been so inundated with girl thoughts, my previous zen-like state of not caring one wit about the gender of our baby has gone right out the window and I now find myself counting down the minutes to our ultrasound (two weeks from now) where I will hop up on the table and demand the first thing I find out about this fetus is what kind of equipment it's packing.

But you are all wrong, you see.  I'm not hoping for a girl.  If I had to say I had any preference at all in the gender of this child, I'd respond that I'm slightly favoring the discovery of a penis.  I know boys.  My boy happens to be the best kid ever.  Sure he's wild, but he's cute and funny and cuddly and sweet.  Having a boy is like going on an adventure every single day.  There's new things to discover, new friends to meet, new ways to make messes...  let's go, GO GO!!  I think it would be great for Alex to have a brother so close to his age.  Plus, I've already got all the stuff for another boy.

It's not at all that I don't want a girl, I mean, if this baby is a girl, I'm going out immediately to buy a pair of ruffle-butt tights:

Sibling rivalry starting early?

Alex is beginning to show signs that sharing his mommy with a new baby will not be an easy transition.  He's gotten really clingy with me the last few weeks, absolutely refusing to share my lap with anyone or anything.  I was holding the cat the other day, he walked up, poked the cat in the ribs and said "Go away kitty!" immediately climbing up into my lap when she relinquished her position.  And, the last few days when I'm reading email and blogs during Curious George in the morning, Alex has thrown a fit about my laptop occupying his precious spot.  He'll actually climb into my lap and force the laptop closed saying "It's all over".

The positive side of this is all the lovin' I'm getting from him.  He'll climb into my lap, wrap his arms around me, put his head on my chest and say "I love you Mommy".  The question is, will that line be able to evict a nursing newborn?  I don't know, Lovey, huggy toddler vs wrinkly faced newborn chewing on my nipples...hmmm.  Maybe we'll bottle feed this one.

Things that are good

• My head cold seems to be going away.  I was only truly miserable for three days and those happened to be days John was home and available to watch Alex allowing me to sleep a lot.  I'm still stuffy and can't hear out of my right ear, but for the most part, I'm better



• John is now back to work after a week and a half holiday vacation.  This is awesome for me because I'm no longer forced to watch The Price is Right.



• I've put Alex on a new eating/sleeping schedule starting the first and it seems to be going ok so far.  Since I've been pregnant and especially during the holidays, Alex has been mostly snacking, almost always refusing to eat a real meal and his nap and bedtimes have been erratic.  I've moved up his bedtime to 8:00 (He usually goes to bed with us around 9:30 or later) and I'm putting him in his highchair three times a day to eat meals (rather than let him pick at his food while playing in the living room like I've been doing).  He is offered two healthy snacks between meals plus a carnation instant breakfast in the evening.  Sitting at the table to eat really seems to be helping.  He's eaten actual food at each meal yesterday and today I got him to eat all of his breakfast and lunch!



• I bought some maternity pants at Khols yesterday and they are great.  Well, great for maternity pants anyway.  I'd always thought there were only two waistband options: Underbelly and Full panel.  Both of which I hate, hate, hate!  Khols had some pants on sale with something called a Mid belly.  These pants fit great on me and I don't have to spend all my time yanking at the waistband trying to keep them from sliding off my ass, which is a nice feature.  Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find another pair in my size for the same price ($20!). 

Bad attitude

Dick Clark:  They'll release over 2000 pounds of confetti!
Me:  What if there's an accident and it doesn't just flutter down from the skies, instead, the entire 2000 pounds comes down at once crushing everyone in Times Square?!
Dick Clark:  This year's ball has over 9000 lights!
Me:  Wouldn't it be awesome if the people who aren't killed by the 2000 pounds of confetti are blinded by the New Year's ball?
John:  What the hell is wrong with you?
Me:  I don't know, I'm just really tired.
John:  It's 8:45!

Reformed husband or pod person?

I had to record this for posterity.  John is doing laundry.  LAUNDRY!  The man hasn't done a shred of laundry for over six years, but today he came into the bedroom, scooped up a few loads worth of clothes (his AND mine!) and put them in the washer.  I...I just don't know what to say to this.  What's next cooking?

2008 starting off with a cough, sneeze, groan...

Somehow, despite the fact that neither Alex or John are sick and I rarely leave the house, I managed to contract a nasty head cold.  My nose is alternately stuffy and runny, my entire head feels like it may explode from the pressure within and I'm fairly sure I've got a raging ear infection.  I may end up going to the doctor tomorrow for my ear, should it explode and leak my brains all over my pillow tonight, otherwise, I plan to just suffer through wishing I could drown my sorrows in Nyquil.