Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Help Needed

I need a cleaning service. And not just the old-fashioned, we clean your house, kind of service. I need somebody to show up at my house every so often and explain to my husband that the house is actually dirty and needs to be cleaned. My husband thinks I'm crazy because I'm always wanting to clean the house. "It's dirty!" I cry, "We can't live like this, it's slovenly!" And he responds that I'm nuts and that the house is fine and that I need to calm down.

He just doesn't understand. We have two dogs with short hair that is like freaking velcro. It sticks to everything. The amount of dusting and vaccumming required to keep the dog hair at bay is much more than the typical non-dog household. I don't mind the cleaning. Our house isn't all that big, it really does not take me much time to clean the entire thing. I just want some acknowledgment that the house is dirty and that I am not crazy because I'm vacuuming for the third time in a week or that I've washed our bedspread twice in a span of 10 days.

Since my husband doesn't believe me that the house is dirty, I need someone to come over and explain to him that, yes, it is very dirty and I am not crazy for wanting to clean.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Labor And Delivery Fail

Today I failed at the whole labor and delivery thing, epically failed. Like got sent home from the hospital fail.

I woke up this morning and thought my water had broken. I won't go into details but a certain sequence of events led me to believe that this was true. So I called my doctor, yanked Captain America out of work and headed down to the hospital.

We walked into the hospital with all of our bags and stuff, excited and ready to have a baby. We walked out about two hours later, with all of our bags and stuff, looking like idiots. My water had not actually broken (and no I did not pee in my bed), I wasn't having contractions, I was sent home.

I was so frustrated walking out of the hospital. I am scheduled to be induced on Thursday and I really do not want to be induced. I was so excited that things were happening on their own and then, nothing. And to make things even better the nurse who did my ultrasound totally made fun of my tattoo.

I was laying on the bed and she puts the goo on my belly to start the ultrasound and notices my tattoo on my hip. She says "Oh!" with disgust. "That's, um, pretty." Ok thanks nurse lady, I realize that I have this totally lame tattoo on my hip that I got in college. I thought it was soooo cool at the time, I was such a rebel with my tattoo.

When I was in college, I really wanted a tattoo, any tattoo, it didn't matter. But I couldn't think of anything to get. So I ended up getting my sorority's symbol, a crescent moon. And I added a star to make it cute. Then someone asked me if I was Muslim. "No," I replied, "Why?" The person commented, "oh because your tattoo looks like the Nation of Islam symbol." Crap, I realized that a crescent moon with one star totally looked like the Nation of Islam symbol. Not that there is anything wrong with that, but I'm Catholic! It just didn't make any sense. So I added some more stars to it and now it looks like this:
That is my artistic rendering of my tattoo and my nod to Hyperbole and a Half, a favorite blog of mine (even if she doesn't post very often). I am definitely not posting a picture of the actual tattoo. So here I am, no baby and a very bold reminder that I have a lame tattoo. Luckily no one ever sees the damn thing. Maybe one day, I'll have it covered up with a really cool tattoo and finally be the bad ass that I was meant to be. Instead of just another sorority girl with a crappy tattoo.

Monday, June 28, 2010

Turtle Update

The other day I found a turtle in my backyard. I thought it was dead first but it turned out to be alive. Captain America wasn't home at the time of my discovery but when he got home he fed the turtle some fruit and decided he needed to find it's owner.

The neighbors across the street informed us that our new little friend is the "famous lost turtle of our neighborhood." Apparently, about 4 years ago, the people living in the house next door to us had two turtles and lost one when they moved. The lost turtle roamed the backyards on our side of the street. Our neighbors next door had been taking care of the turtle, feeding it and giving it water.

When we found the turtle the next door neighbors were in the process of moving. So my husband goes next door and says, "hey we found your turtle." Instead of being happy that we found their turtle, they respond, "um, well, um, he's not really ours, um, we're moving, so, um, yeah." Um yeah, they weren't taking the turtle back.

I know they put the turtle in our backyard on purpose. There is only concrete on the side where our house meets theirs. I know that turtle didn't push his way through the fence and then trek all the way over to our grass. I would put money that they put the turtle over in our yard so they wouldn't have to worry about it when they move. So now we have a turtle. Captain America calls him Mr. Turtle, I call him Albert, and Mickey is scared to death of him. She spends her time outside stalking him.

My Aunt is supposed to be taking custody of Albert. But she has yet to call me back to confirm this. Aunt? Aunt? Are you out there? Your turtle awaits you.

Panic Attack

I had a minor freak out the other day. Not about the impending baby (which, by the way, is still not here yet) but about internet security. My household has had a couple security threats lately (nothing major, thank goodness) and I started to panic about who could read my blog and if they could figure out where I live and such. Not that a lot of people read my blog, I'm pretty sure the majority of readers are either family or close friends. So I made my blog private. But then I was sad, I really like blogging. I really enjoy writing, even if it is about silly little things like my dogs or finding a turtle in my backyard. I'm not exactly in the most creative profession so the blog affords me a tiny creative outlet.

Plus, I like to go back and read my entries. Not because I'm obsessed with myself but because I like to see how I thought about certain situations and how my feelings may have changed. I also like to look at old pictures of fun times.

So, I'm back to having my blog public again. But I'm taking some security measures. Instead of signing my posts with my real name, I'm going to start signing with a pen name. Which for now is Mrs. Bulldog. My friend Rogue gave me this name on her blog and I can't think of anything else. Plus I love bulldogs. But I must clarify the name is not because I look like a bulldog, I don't, I hope. Bulldogs are very headstrong and stubborn. I think I have these qualities, so for now I will be Mrs. Bulldog unless I think of something else. Plus, most of you know my real name. And a handful of you probably even know that I was named after a Kennedy.

I also worry that people in my legal community and/or clients will read my blog. I'm pretty sure that this blog is not interesting enough to attract people who do not actually know me but you never know. I was a little worried about people in my professional life reading about how I want to hit my husband in the head with a frying pan over the mail or how I am obsessed with cookies. But I figure, these people must know that I have a life outside of the office and that life can get a little wacky at times. Every so often I will mention work in passing in my blog but mostly I keep the two very, very separate. So, another change will be no mention of work except that I am an attorney and I go to work. I'm sure there will be stories to come of being a working mom, but those will center more around juggling a baby and getting to the office in one piece, not the actual work I do.

I am also going to stop referring to my husband by name. Instead, I shall call him Captain America. I will call him this because this was his nickname in law school. I have no idea how he got the nickname but he is very American and he thinks he's the captain of our household so the nickname should work. The baby will just be Baby for now, I'll have to meet him before I can give him a nickname.

So there is my very long diatribe about my internet paranoia. Thanks for sticking around if you made it this far! Now, I'm off to search for cookies.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

It's My Due Date and I'll Cook If I Want To

Today is my official due date. And I have had absolutely no signs of labor. Baby must be pretty comfortable in there. No contractions, no water breaking, nothing. It's also my third day of maternity leave and I'm starting to go out of my mind with boredom. The first two days weren't so bad. I had work to do from home, I had lunch with the husband, got a pedicure with the sister. But then, the third day came and I didn't have anything to do.

It feels really strange to not get up and go to work. I'm a worker, I've always worked. Ever since I was 16 and a birthday hostess for Chuck e Cheese, I've worked. There have been a few stretches of time where I didn't have a job, like my first year of law school, but I've worked pretty consistently since high school. I feel guilty watching Captain America get up and get dressed for the office while I'm still in pajamas. Although I am still getting up before he does. Damn prego belly does not help the sleeping-in so much.

My big outing of the day was the grocery store. Woo hoo, so exciting! I went to stock up on food before the baby comes. I ended up making three lasagnas, two to freeze and one for tonight. I have never frozen a lasagna so I hope it comes out ok or else I just wasted a lot of time and money. I even had to go to the store twice because I forgot certain key ingredients.

I also read a book today and watched a ton of baby shows. Lucky for me there was a "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant" marathon on today. Tomorrow I think my outing will be buying new dog beds. Sigh, this baby better come soon before I die of boredom.

Monday, June 21, 2010


My sister said I needed to update my blog and that I should write about her being awesome.

I think a picture can say it better. So here she is, being awesome.

Officially on Leave

Every good home office needs a bulldog sitting under the desk. Frank is by my side at all times. I never know where Mickey is, which means I get up every 10 minutes to make sure she isn't chomping on baby toys or making some kind of mess downstairs.

Today was my first official day of maternity leave and it was a fail. I was so excited. I haven't had a day off in a long time and haven't had a real vacation in years (since my honeymoon in October 2008). And then I spent my day working and doing laundry. Although I did get to have lunch with my husband which is a rare treat. And still no baby. My due date is this Wednesday so we'll see how this maternity leave thing goes tomorrow.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Mmmmm, tacos.

I have tried really hard during this pregnancy to not be a whiny brat. Having a relatively easy pregnancy has made this easy. I have tried my best to not be a crazy, hormonal bitch but as the weeks dwindle down it is getting much, much harder. Mostly because my back effing hurts people and it's making me cranky.

Even thought I have two weeks left, I want to get this show on the road. A friend mentioned today that she heard Jack in the Box tacos would get things moving. Say no more! I was at Jack in the Box in a flash ordering two monster tacos (my meal of choice in college). The lady over the intercom said, "oh we don't have those anymore." Ok, I'm not proud of this, but I just about lost it. I yelled, "what do you mean you don't have tacos!!!!" I was completely enraged. The lady quickly came back with, "I mean we don't have monster tacos, we have the regular ones." "Oh," I said sheepishly, "I'll have two of those and curly fries." She wouldn't even look at me when I pulled up to the window. Not one of my finer moments.

I complained to my doctor about my back pain, he just said to have better posture. Thanks a lot doc. It's kind of hard to stand up straight when a gigantic belly is pulling you forward. I'm not sure what I can do about my back, but I am going to try to be more pleasant. I don't need to make everyone around me miserable for the next two weeks just because I'm uncomfortable.

Dear Baby...

A Letter to My Son:

Dear Baby,

At 38 weeks pregnant, I am so excited to meet you. I have so many hopes and dreams for you, I can't wait to introduce you to this big, wonderful world. I already love you so very much.

Ok, I can't write that kind of letter. It is just too sappy and kind of makes me want to throw up a little in my mouth.

Here is what I actually want to tell my son:

Don't be an asshole. The world is full of them and doesn't need anymore. And you don't get off because you are a baby, babies can be assholes too. Just remember to be nice, it's important.

Eat your vegetables. This country is fat and getting fatter. Health is important. Disregard the fact that your father will only eat approximately three vegetables. They all taste good and are good for you (except for green bell peppers, those are disgusting, stay away from them).

You will do your homework, all of it. Again disregard your father who is one of those super annoying types that doesn't do any homework but still aces the test.

Do not be afraid to take risks. Risks can be your opportunity for greatness. Never be afraid of failure. It is far better to go for something and not get it than to never try at all.

Listen to your parents. I promise we will try really hard to admit when we are wrong. But for a long time we will be right about everything, especially your mother.

And, most importantly, always remember that your parents love you very much.

Ok, Baby, it's all on you now, come on out whenever you're ready cause we're ready for you!

Your Crazy Mom

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Backyard Discovery

This morning while I was taking the bullies outside to "do their thing," I encountered this:

I know this is a blurry, crappy picture but you can clearly see that it is a turtle. In my backyard! Just standing there. I thought it was dead at first and Brady was already at work. I frantically texted him asking what I should do and if I should call animal control. He said to throw it away. Yea freaking right. There was no way I was going to pick up a dead turtle and put it in our trash can to rot there. That's beyond disgusting. When I looked at the turtle again, it was gone. Clearly it was still alive, so now a turtle is roaming around my backyard and it totally grosses me out.

I absolutely abhor turtles. I have much irrational hatred of certain animals that are kept as pets due to bad experiences as a child. Turtles are one of those animals. My brother had turtles. He had two. One walked away when my dad left it unattended in the front yard. And the other somehow got maggots and had to be taken to the vet. Bless my mother's heart for driving a maggot filled turtle to the vet for her son. I would not do such a thing. But that is why I hate turtles so much because the thought of maggots infesting an animal is just to much for me to bear. Safe to say, Baby Brady will never, ever have a turtle for a pet.

The other animal that I hate is mice. I used to like mice. I thought they were cute and fun little pets. Stephanie and I had pet mice together, Susan and Lucy, after the main characters from The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. Then Stephanie's mouse, Lucy, murdered and ate my mouse, Susan. It was a disgusting blood bath. We didn't know that two female mice would be so brutal to each other. And that was the end of keeping mice as pets. Ugh, I'm getting the willies just thinking about it.

I also hate pet rabbits. They are worthless pets and Stephanie had two of them. The first one died in its cage. My mom didn't want to deal with it, so she paid me $20 to throw it away. I think I was in junior high or high school. I wrapped a trash bag around my hand, picked up the dead bunny and tossed it in the trash can, which I think is illegal. It had been dead for a little bit and it was stiff. Again, disgusting. And because Stephanie's bunny died, my parents, for some unknown reason, got her another one. And like most mothers, my mom ended up taking care of it. And then she came down with viral meningitis. I remember that cleaning up the damn bunny's droppings was pegged as a possible cause of the illness. So that's why I dislike rabbits.

We had many, many pets as children. In addition to the turtles, mice, and rabbits, we had hamsters, lizards, skinks, and lots of fish. My parents were extremely patient with all the pets we had. But I am definitely scarred for life with some of these pets. While it was very nice of my parents to be so accommodating to their children's wishes for pets, I will not be following suit. I'm just fine with a couple of bullies.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Moving On

I finally got around to deleting my myspace account today. I think that at 30 years old they should automatically delete your account because you are clearly too old for myspace. But before I deleted it, I went through and read all the messages Brady and I wrote to each other when we were very first dating in April 2006.

A lot of the messages consisted of me whining about studying (hey it was the very end of law school) and me whining about my job (I was working at a law firm as a law clerk and absolutely hated it). Sprinkled in between my whining were some really cute and sweet messages. Things like "can't wait to see you," "I adore you," and other cutesy things that brand new couples say to each other.

There were messages about planning our second date in Vegas (see picture below) and Brady asking me what kind of Starbucks drink he should bring me in the morning. My reply was "venti zen green tea, two bags, with an inch of soy." He definitely can't say that he was surprised that I'm high maintenance.

So this is our first picture together as an item. We look so young. So full of hope and promise.

Four years, the bar exam, two apartments, one house, two bulldogs, an engagment, a wedding, and a pregnancy later, here we are. Dear Lord we have aged a lot in four years. Although it has been a jam packed four years.

We no longer communicate via myspace. Now we are lucky to exchange two texts or emails during the work day. Usually we have a full catch up on our day as we are about to fall asleep and sometimes we just pass out. The cutesy messages have been replaced with things like "did you pay the mortgage?" and "you need to change a lightbulb upstairs." While practical matters rule our life, we still find little ways to let each other know that we still adore each other. Like this weekend Brady fully completed his "honey do" list (well he still has one light bulb to change but close enough). If that doesn't say "I adore you," I don't know what does!

And It Begins...

The baby stuff takeover of my house has officially begun. We had set up the nursery a while ago, but the baby stuff was pretty much contained to that room. That is no longer. Today we moved our dining table and bookcase to make room for the pack n play and swing.

At least I picked out baby stuff that coordinates with our decor.

I wonder if I can find a floortime mat in sage green and cranberry?

Thursday, June 3, 2010

By the Books

I'm a big believer in book learning. I think that you can lots of things from books. For example, I learned the law from books. Yes, I went to class, paid attention, and took notes. But most of my learning came from studying cases. Plus, there was a fair amount of online shopping happening while I was in class.

I taught myself how to knit from this book. I can knit and purl. I just can't finish a scarf in under four years.

So as my pregnancy draws near an end, I've been reading lots and lots of baby books to learn how to take care of my baby. I realize I can't learn how to be a mother from a book but I think I've learned lots of interesting pointers and tips.

I really like the Baby Whisperer. Its very common sense based and the author is British. She calls everyone "Ducky" or "Luv." It's very cute. A big part of this book is tips on how to get your baby to be a good sleeper. The Baby Whisperer does not advocate the "cry it out" method, but says to pay close attention to your baby's sounds/cries and do not rush in if the baby can soothe itself back to sleep. There are lots of other great sounding tips to get your baby to sleep through the night.

So I read the book and I'm feeling pretty confident that I can follow the tips and help my baby be a good sleeper when he gets here. Then last night, I put the bullies to bed like I always do. I go up to bed and around 10:00pm, Mickey starts barking her head off. Usually when she does this, I let the bullies come up and sleep in the bed. But it is really, really hard for me to sleep in the bed with them. They snore, they hog pillows, and they are, um, slightly gassy. It's not pleasant. So I ignore her and she stops barking. I'm pretty proud of myself that I didn't give in.
Then around 11:30pm, she starts seriously barking her little puppy head off. Now, I think she must be barking at something, an intruder or something. So I go downstairs and of course there is nothing. I let the dogs come upstairs and get in bed with me. But Mickey won't get in bed, she stands at the bedroom door looking annoyed. When I open the door, she runs downstairs and gets on the couch with a toy and goes to sleep.

! This dog just totally worked me over so she could sleep on the couch. She knew that if she kept barking I would let her out of the kitchen. Frank slept in the bed, Mickey slept on my expensive leather couch, shedding all over it, and I got no sleep.

Exactly how I am going to follow the Baby Whisperer if my dog walks all over me!?! I need to take control of this household before this baby comes, I'm in charge damnit! And now, if you'll excuse me, Frank is licking my peanut butter and jelly sandwich and I must go deal with it.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

My Cute Husband

How cute is my husband? I got this the other day while he was out of town on a business trip. Apparently there was not too much business because he was able to fit in a round of golf. Anyways, he looks adorable.Check Spelling

Marriage is so funny. Sometimes I look at this man and I want to cry tears of happiness for finding a man so wonderful and so perfect for me. Other times, I look at him and it's all I can do to refrain from taking my non-stick, wedding present, frying pan to his head for leaving his mail on the coffee table. Ah marriage, so many wonderful emotions.

Getting Near the End

Today I am 37 weeks pregnant and this is how I look and feel:

Actually not really, I don't have the pleasure of enjoying cool ocean spray all around me. I just feel gigantic, immobile, and my back hurts. I don't think my dinner is really helping these feelings, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and two quesadillas isn't going to make anyone feel 100%. And I'm just waiting for a respectable time so I can eat some ice cream. I think 7:45pm is respectable. Although I'm not sure I can wait 45 minutes.

I know, I know I should should stop whining. I'm so close to the end. But seriously, I'm ready for this baby to come on out. My husband keeps telling me that I look like it shouldn't be physically possible for me to stand upright. Thanks babe. I'm of the opinion that the only thing you should ever say to a pregnant woman is "you look great!" There should never be any mention of size, or how she is carrying, or how she looks like she is about to pop.

Ok, I'm going to stop whining now. It's inefficient and unproductive. And we all know how I hate inefficiency and lack of productivity. Instead I shall focus my attention on ice cream and finding some crappy reality t.v. to watch. I might even read a baby book. I think I should be nesting and cleaning everything. But for once in my life, I just don't care about cleaning. Way too much effort right now. Ice cream and reality t.v. it is! Is it 7:45pm yet?

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Princess Mickey

It is a good thing Baby Brady is a boy.

I don't know if I could handle another princess in this household.

Goodbye Esther

When I was little I read the story of the Velveteen Rabbit. It's the story of a stuffed rabbit, who has feelings and becomes real because of the love of a little boy. When the little boy can no longer play with the Velveteen Rabbit because he comes down with scarlet fever and the rabbit is deemed to be laden with germs, the rabbit is crushed.

This story really struck a chord with me when I was little. So much so, that I used to rotate what stuffed animals I slept with so that no one would get jealous or feel left out. Let me remind you, that I was very little. So ever since I read this story I have unrealistically assigned feelings to inanimate objects.

For example, Esther the Escape. I bought Esther in 2002, a few months after I graduated college. It was my first grown-up act after college. I did all the research by myself, test drove cars, and went to the dealership all by myself. I loved that car. She got me through law school, she drove me to the bar exam, she drove me around on my wedding day, and she moved me in to my first house with my husband.

As much as I loved Esther, she was getting old. With almost 130,000 miles, Esther was starting to slow down. This past weekend, Brady drove her and realized that I was missing gears or the transmission was shot or something. I'm not sure what it was, but it was bad. It was Esther's time to go.

So we went to dealerships, negotiated for a long time, and bought a new car. I was very close to crying. I really was sad to lose my Esther.

She may not have gone above 60 mph and yes I had to use pliers to switch from air conditioning to heat, and the brakes weren't so hot, but she was still my car. She was a symbol of my entry into adulthood, a symbol of my independence. I made Brady tell me that the dealership was going to fix her up and she would go to a loving family. Then my father made the remark that they "were going to junk that old thing." I still choose to believe that she will be restored to her glory days.

I said goodbye to Esther and welcomed Stella, a 2010 Hyundai Santa Fe, into my life. I'm still getting to know her, but I think we are going to have a pretty good time together. Plus, she gets the grand honor of bringing Baby Brady home from the hospital.

Goodbye Esther, you were a fantastic car and I'll always remember you.