Posts Tagged ‘I am stupid’

There are a few memes going around facebook right now that are bombing my feed. One is the “share x amount of things about yourself others may not know”. I’ve really liked reading everyone’s posts but haven’t participated as a service to my facebook friends because, look, everyone that clicks on my blog already knows way more about me then they ever wanted to. And besides! I bestowed the Internet with ONE HUNDRED things a few years ago so I feel like I’ve sort of covered this already.

The other meme is one that gives you a correlating animal or fictional/non-fictional character based on your Myers Briggs test score. I have taken this test a number of times over the years and my results are a little complicated so I never know how to correctly label myself. {Also, this turned into a giant time-sucking wormhole for me today, which I felt bad about until I thought of all the hoards of you out there obsessively playing Candy Crush. I’ve never touched that game, meaning I have at least 10,000 unused time-wasting hours that most of the general public has already used up.} {Also: Now I want to download Candy Crush. Dammit.}

Anyway! Here’s my Myers Briggs Results Extravaganza!…

I or E {Introvert or Extrovert}: I am roughly 60-65% Introvert each time I take the test and I find this a fairly accurate assessment. I like talking. In general {I talk to Ezra, the cats and myself all day long} and with other people, and also feel a desperate need to keep conversation running smooth {read: silences during conversations give me facial tics} but people as a whole? Exhaust me. I much prefer to communicate by writing {god bless the almighty Text} and for me hanging out at home reading or relaxing is preferred over social interaction or recreation 90% of the time.

S or N {Sensing or Intuition}: I will score 51% one way, 49% the other way and then it flip-flops the next time I take it so I’m pretty much equal parts Sensing and Intuition when I take in information. I gather info by paying attention both to the physical world around me and by analyzing theories through my feelings and thoughts. Again, I think this is accurate which is why taking these tests is hard for me because the answer to these questions never seems clear to me and I curse the absence of a BOTH button. But! Because I know myself pretty okay {and assessing my very reaction to this conundrum} I most often identify as N, Intuition.

T or F {Thinking or Feeling}: Samesies, always within a percent or two of 50/50, using equal parts Thinking and Feeling when I make decisions. Also again, I find this very accurate. I think this trait gives me both balance once a decision is made but a healthy dose of conflict as I try to figure things out as I never know which part of me to trust. Should I go with the facts or my gut feeling? It’s a push/pull sort of thing but I tend to err on the side of Feeling.

J or P: I am not messing around here, I am always {literally} 99% Judging which means I like structure and definitive answers/decisions ALL OF THE TIME. If you are my husband you are nodding your head up and down very vigorously in agreement right now. I do NOT like wishy-washy bullshit and I seriously think my great trial in life is to accept that sometimes there is no answer. Which is stupid, THERE SHOULD ALWAYS BE AN ANSWER. Here. I’ll make one up so I can sleep tonight. I get that sometimes you just need to wait and see but gahhhhhhhhhhhhhh…. I can’t handle it. I’m 100% certain that in the end it won’t be my genetic predisposition for cancer or heart disease that takes me out, it will be not knowing the definitive answer to something vaguely important. I’ll just KEEL OVER. Cause of Death? Not knowing if the home was serving mashed peas or carrots for lunch, RIP, CHRISTY.

So! I’m one of the following based on how I’m feeling when I take this test: ISTJ, INTJ, ISFJ or an INFJ. I’ve taken it every 2-3 years since I was about 18 and I always get the same-ish results, so I’d say it’s fairly accurate for me. I have only taken the “real” test twice, once in high school and once in college.  {And fun fact! I actually scored extrovert in high school which was accurate at that time in my life since everything when I was a teenager was based on social standing and how well you interacted within peer groups, but at the heart, I am not an extreme, but a solid Introvert.} The other times I’ve taken the test it’s been one of the many free online versions floating around out there.

Now. Since I go off the label I get most often, I normally identify as a INFJ, a part of the sub-group entitled “Idealists” and given the moniker, “The Counselor”.  Swinging back around to the internet memes, this is the {fascinating!} list of what I learned about me today…

My spirit animal is: A Tiger. Which is total bullshit because we all know my spirit animal is Monkey Jane. I guess it’s still in the cat family so there’s that.

My super hero equivalent is Batman. {He is listed equally on the internet as an INFJ and a INTJ and since I can claim both I’m using him.}

My LotR character is Galadriel, which makes sense because Cate Blanchett herself is an INFJ and I’m preeeeeety sure they’re the same person. Have you noticed Cate Blanchett age? Yeah. Me Neither. I call ELF.

Tiana is my Disney Princess. Of course she is! She is the best. Some say Pocahontas, {but I say I would never make out with Mel Gibson, even if we were both cartoon characters} others say Cinderella {I do like her shoe choice so this one might work}.

Jean Valjean. SWEET. I wouldn’t have taken those candlesticks though. OR WOULD I? Maybe Myers Briggs knows me better than I know myself…

My Harry Potter character is Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin or Lily Evens depending on which chart you use. I chose Dumbledore cause AWESOME.

Obi-wan Kanobi from Star Wars. My street cred with Keaton is gonna go waaaaay up when I tell him this.

Lisa Simpson. Yep.

Game of Thrones: Varys. Soooo I’m super conniving… and creepy as hell… huh.

Walking Dead: Dale. Man! I’m lame. And *spoiler!!!!* super dead.

Aslan. All powerful cat suits me just fine.

Mythical creature: Wizard. I’ll take it, but would have preferred vampire or unicorn.

Jesus. He’s typed a number of ways but INFJ is always one of them and since I’m pretty sure he and Aslan are the same person this all makes perfect sense to me.

The Hunger Games: Rue. There I am, super dead again.

Fox Moulder from the x-files. I don’t know, he was kind of a sucker and sort of irrelevant since it’s 2013. {Ah crap, don’t tell Bill I said that, it might be grounds for divorce according to our imaginary prenup.}

Mr. Bates from Downton Abbey and whenever I read/say Mr. Bates I hear it in Anna’s voice and it’s creeping me out Mr. Bates Mr. Bates Mr. Bates AHhhhhh!!!!!

Dr Doofenshmirtz. Ohmygod I’m putting this one on my resume.

Other facts: INFJs are the most likely to have high IQs, be shy, to read a buttload of books and love to write. Also more likely to suffer from OCD, narcissism and depression.

Real Life INFJs…

Hitler, Osama bin Laden, Ron Paul. WHAT?! I don’t think this list is accurate.

Dostoevsky. Ghandi. Plato. Thaaaat’s more like it.

Congratulations, Internet!! You now know even more pointless shit about me! Since I’m prone to narcissism this couldn’t have been wholly unexpected but just know I’ll probably feel mild to moderately depressed about it later.

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Listen, I know we already all knew this but my idiot-game has upped itself to new heights. Last night I did something so colossally stupid, something I one hundred and fifty (thousand!} percent knew would destroy me but I did it anyway. I watched The Conjuring. Internet, do NOT watch this movie, it is goddamn terrifying. {Especially if you’re me.  If you’re not me and are a grown-up who learned somewhere along the way to separate fact from fiction then you’re probably fine.}

Over the years, Bill and I have talked a lot about what our own personal brand of ohshitImterrified fear is when it comes to the horror genre and I have to say we are on complete opposite sides of the spectrum. Bill’s number one supernatural fear is zombies and he gets pretty freaked out by a monster flick. {But seriously the man can sleep under any and all circumstances so while it might freak him out as he watches, he forgets about it completely somewhere around 10 minutes after it’s over.} And listen, I get it. When the makeup and special effects are done right, I can see that a zombie might be moderately scary, but jesus they just move soooo sloooow and a majority of the time they’re missing the correct limbs to, you know, catch you or grab you with and I actually find it fairly comical instead of disturbing when they are so horribly disfigured they’re barely recognizable as something that might have once been human. With The Walking Dead {which I like to refer to as The Walking Sexists but I’ll admit is killing it this season} and the subsequent influx of zombie flicks over the last 10 years, I don’t know, I feel sort of immune and don’t get super scared by them.

The only movie from the monster genre that has stayed with me and truly scared me to the core was the TV mini-series of Stephen King’s Silver Bullet. This probably has less to do with how frightening it actually is {I really don’t know how it holds up, I will never watch that sucker again} and more to do with the fact that I watched it when I was 7 years old. I was across the street at the 12 year old neighbor girl’s house. I think she was probably charged with “watching me” in a Mother’s Helper sort of way that afternoon and she took her job very seriously by making me Spaghettio’s and setting me up in her family room with a movie! Sounds nice, huh? Until she picked out Silver Bullet. I don’t know how strongly I can emphasize that this is NOT an appropriate movie for an 7 year old, especially one that has had a recurring nightmare from 4 years old on about a werewolf that terrorizes her neighborhood. I was completely warped from watching it, and more than 25 years later I can still picture the fog overlaying the ground and the people of the town being dragged under it and {presumably} ripped limb from limb off camera and ohmygod let’s not talk about this anymore.

Overall though, my fear is definitely more strongly rooted in the haunted house, possession type story lines so The Conjuring was probably the absolute dumbest movie I ever could have watched because not only is it based on a true story, it contains a haunted house and a demonic witch who possesses mothers who are then forced to do horrible things to their children. My fascination/fear of these movies started at 14 when I watched Amityville: The Possession. I’m sure I watched the original Amityville movie at some point but it didn’t terrify me as much as the sequel did and for years after I would wake up paralyzed with the fear that one of my possessed family members would enter my room with a shotgun and take us all out. Lovely thought, I know. To be clear none of my un-possessed family members would most likely ever do this but 3:15am doesn’t always lend itself to rational thinking.

My imagination obviously tends to be on the more active side but as I’ve grown into a real-live adult, my fearful reaction to most scary movies has definitely dulled. After all, a sugared-up toddler who won’t nap or a colicky baby that wakes up 10 times a night are WAY WAY WAY more frightening than any ghost or demon could ever be. I’ve also gotten pretty good at being able to turn off my imagination and/or thoughts before they spiral out of control and go from “wow, that was a pretty messed up FICTIONAL movie” to waking up in the middle of the night paralyzed with terror, absolutely SURE there is a possessed witch hovering six inches above my face as I’m completely paralyzed in my bed in the black room. Until last night that is!

The whole movie I was a mess. Bill kept saying “how bout we turn it off, dummy” when for the 6th time I balled myself in the corner of the couch with my hands literally covering my eyes like a 3 year old. “No! Then I won’t know how they got rid of her! It will be worse!” After I made him pause it 2-3 times so I could remind myself to blink and breath, he had lost pretty much all patience with me but we made it to the end. And *spoiler alert* at least it didn’t pull one of those dick moves that the horror genre is so fond of that let you believe they resolved whatever horrible occurence had happened and then the final scene is all HA! Just kidding! EVERYONE’S STILL SCREWED. It was a relatively happy ending, if you don’t account for all the hundreds of thousands of dollars in therapy those characters will have to pay to get over that awfulness.

I really should just not be allowed to watch this crap. And for years I stayed away from it because I knew I couldn’t handle it. I think it was after The Ring came out and I didn’t sleep barely at all for a week straight that I quit horror all together for a few years but after a while I dipped back in and then October rolls around and I get caught up in Jezebel’s annual true scary story post which inevitably leads me to scroll through Rotten Tomatoes to see what the year had to offer in scary movies. I think this one cured me of any need to watch something this horrifying… at least until next year.

These are my more recent I Am Never Watching This Shit Again movies: Silent Hill, Evil Dead {remake, I’ve never seen the original} and Sinister. But honestly, The Conjuring takes the flippin’ cake. A big part of this might be because I’m a little OCD about time, so much so, that I can’t wear a watch because I check it obsessively so movies where something bad happens at a specific time each night, really mess with me on a whole different level. I spent all night so tense, barely sleeping and afraid to look at my clock. When I did nod off Bill said I kept jerking and gasping in my sleep. I am a total mess today and am already scared to go to bed tonight and it’s only 1pm. So yeah. Dumb. So, so dumb.

{When I’m ready to jump back in to scary movies, because let’s face it, I just don’t learn, I’ll watch my go-to pallet cleanser, Cabin in the Woods, which is pretty much the best horror/anti-horror/comedy movie ever made, God Bless you, Joss Whedon.}

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Hello, Internet! Happy 2013! I have a holiday re-cap in the works but I know how much you like to see embarrassing pictures of my family so I just could NOT put you through the agony of waiting any longer. So!…

We were back at the Mallinger’s for their annual New Year’s Gala {this year it was a gala because three of us were in a dress, shut up, it works}. Bill and I really didn’t know how the night would go with the baby, and it was definitely a little different from our usual care-free night of debauchery, but it really went surprisingly well thanks to a very cooperative Ezra. After almost a year of a stone sober wife, it was Bill’s turn to stay sober {normally we spend the night but we weren’t THAT adventurous with a two month old} so I packed a ton of expressed milk for later, breastfed the baby at 9 o’clock, pumped and was ready to join in the fun {read: drinking} by 10pm. I had a few drinks and champagne at midnight and around 1am, knowing Ezra would be due to wake up soon, Bill asked me where the bottle was. Uh. Yeah. So I had packed approximately one thousandy ounces of breastmilk but nothing to actually get that milk into the baby. SHIT. {And this is why exhausted parents of very small babies cannot be trusted}. Thankfully Ezra slept peacefully through the transfer to his car seat and the ride home, so it was really a non-issue in the end, but ugh. Christy – sleep + packing = DUMBASS.

Anyway! Sometimes we do a theme for these nights, sometimes we don’t. This year Bill’s brother bought Ezra a tiny tuxedo onesie for Christmas so when my sister asked if we wanted to do a theme I told her Ezra would be dressing up for the occasion so maybe we should too. Everyone was on board! We thought it would be fun to hit up Goodwill/Savers for terrible promwear and Jen and Jay came across some great finds but Bill was looking for a bow-tie get-up which we had no luck with. I really didn’t want to go out and spend money on a dress, even a goodwill one, so I was planning to just wear my bridesmaid’s dress from Snoreface’s wedding but then I had an even better idea! What if I didn’t have to wear a dress at all! All I had to do was talk Bill into a dress… It was a super tough sell that went something like this:

Me: I know! YOU should wear the dress.

Bill: DONE.

And so commenced Fancy New Year’s!

The Fancy baby that started it all.

The Fancy baby that started it all. So handsome.

And here it is, Ladies and Gentlemen, my husband in a very pink dress.

And here it is, Ladies and Gentlemen, my husband in my very pink dress. It definitely helped that I was 7 months pregnant when I wore it but we still had to buy a similarly very pink shirt to bridge the gap in the back so it would fit him. And it did. Like a very manly pink glove. {I’ll have you know that the headband/bow combo was his idea.} {The eyeshadow and blush were decidedly all me though.}

Jen's dress looked fabulous and set her back a whole 8 bucks. I'd tell you all about the terrible green jacket complete with FAKE BROWN SILK OMGGROSS shirt but I still can't get past that awful facial hair he's been sporting since Movember. So wrong.

Jen’s dress looked fabulous and set her back a whole 8 bucks. I’d tell you all about the DCFI’s terrible green jacket complete with BROWN FAKE SILK-I-touched-it-and-died-a-little-bit-inside shirt but I still can’t get past that awful facial hair he’s been sporting since Movember. So wrong.

We jumped right in to Just Dance 4. My neice Ellie decided her dad and uncles needed to preform One Direction together,

We jumped right in to Just Dance 4. My niece Ellie decided her dad and uncles needed to perform a One Direction song together…

So they did, and it was magical.

So they did, and it was magical.

Snoreface with the night's youngest revelers.

Snoreface with the night’s youngest revelers.

Jorie wore her mom's Junior prom dress. That is straight up, unadulterated 1989 right there, people.

Jorie wore her mom’s Junior prom dress. You are staring at straight-up, unadulterated 1989 right there, people.

The boys were very serious about their Final Countdown performance. {Bill soon realized that strapless dresses and vigorous booty-shakin just don't mix, but he kept the headband on like a good sport.

The boys were very serious about their Final Countdown performance. Bill soon realized that strapless dresses and vigorous booty-shakin’ just don’t mix {so much man-nip-slip} but he kept the headband on like a good sport.

Even grandma got in on the fun!

Even grandma got in on the fun!

If you don't know what dance this is, I'm sorry, you're not allowed in 2013 because you clearly failed 2012.

If you don’t know what dance this is, I’m sorry, you’re not allowed in 2013 because you clearly failed 2012.

Jen and the Deps rounded out the night with a so bad it's really just awesome dance to "I've had the time of my life". Yes the lift at the end was attempted and No, no one was thrown directly into the fireplace {although it may have beeb a close call}.

Jen and the Deps rounded out the night with a so-bad-it’s-really-just-awesome dance to “I’ve had the time of my life”. Yes, the lift at the end was attempted and no, no one was thrown directly into the fireplace {although it may have been a close call and the headline would have been epic : Deputy Chief Fire Idiot Throws Fancy Wife into Fire in Romantic Dance Gone Horribly Awry}.

Needless to say we had too much fun for our own good, as it should be on this night. Happy 2013, Internet.

Needless to say we had too much fun for our own good, as it should be on this night. Happy 2013, Internet.

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It’s done. NaBloPoMo has reached the end and I’m not going to lie, I’m glad. This was both the easiest and hardest of the four National Blog Posting Months I’ve participated in. Easy because, with a newborn, I almost always had something to write about. I never had that panicked feeling of Shit! Maybe I can dress the cat up in people clothes and post pictures to buy me an extra day. Hard because, uhhh, we had a newborn, and I don’t know if you know this or not but they’re kind of a lot of work.

Coordinating writing time went great when I could sit up to the computer, lay Ezra on the boppy to feed him and then hunt and peck with my free hand to cobble together a post or edit and upload pictures. Unfortunately it didn’t always work out so smooth and much of the time when I was writing I felt guilty because there are always just so.many.things. I know every mom says it and I will again freely admit how bad I am at math, but how one little baby can add up to so much extra laundry is just not mathematically possible. DOES NOT COMPUTE.

Having the completely imaginary pressure of the internet waiting for me to post will not be missed but it has been nice to have a focus. When one minute you’re holding a sweet, peaceful cherub, plump and happily slumbering in your arms, and the next minute the dog barks and said cherub turns on you and is all of a sudden simultaneously shooting spit-up down your back while having a massive poop and when you go to change that massive poop he starts peeing all over you and himself at the same time he is spitting up again HOW IS THERE EVEN ANYTHING LEFT IN YOU BABY and you have no idea which end to wipe first and how did things go so wrong so quickly so…yeah. To have some control amidst the chaos was a welcome break.

Another plus? Having this record of Ezra’s first days. One of the first things people ask you right after you’ve had a baby is So… are you done? For the record I think it’s totally unfair to ask someone who’s just had a baby if they’re “done” because more babies are really the last thing on your mind in the days after giving birth. And my go to answer is, well, Bill is done, so unless things fall through with Brad and Angelina, I’m probably done too.

In truth, I want four. The reality is though, that kids are expensive and holyhell a lot of work {also: THE PUKE} so I really understand why three is more than enough for Bill. Still, I think we’re both in the never-say-never camp as who knows? I might win big playing Bingo someday… you know! If I start playing Bingo! Point is, circumstances do change so we’re not closing any doors permanently but Ezra will more than likely be our last so having this record of his first weeks is pretty invaluable to me.

And now? I’m going to ride off into the sunset to revel in my family and enjoy the peace of the impending holiday season. HA HA JUST KIDDING! Did I mention we are throwing a pool party for many small preschoolers in honor of Keaton turning the big OH- FIVE? Because I am throwing a motherfucking pool party for many small preschoolers. And it is in two days and I don’t know what the hell I was thinking because DUMB and STUPID and I think I should probably buy some cake plates or a balloon bouquet or something oh god what is wrong with me. At least we don’t have another birthday to attend tonight, a full day at the dance studio tomorrow and our own packed evening of getting our tree and decorations up in the evening. OH SHIT WAIT. Of course we do.

With that? Thanks for once again for sticking out NaBloPoMo with me. I’m so grateful that people take time out to read about our adventures, even if it is only to laugh and be thankful you’re not as ridiculous as we are. Pray for my stupidity, Internet! I will need all the help I can get.


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I know. I’m a terrible pregnancy blogger. But the shit? All of the shit? The GIGANTIC list of shit? I have got it almost all done. Exactly 10 days ago I had NONE of the shit done so this is incredibly impressive.

The great part about spacing SDjrjr almost five years after Keaton is that we have two very independent kids that will allow me to focus on the baby’s needs a lot easier than, say, having a 1, 2 or 3-year-old would. The bad part about the spacing is that we pretty much had to start over as far as what we need to actually care for this baby, making getting ready a pretty daunting experience of “what?! don’t we still have that?” and “why didn’t you look into your crystal ball and just KNOW that would come in handy five years later?”

Fortunately we were pretty organized and made a list and created a budget for what we would have to do and get. Unfortunately that list kept getting bigger and bigger and we could not purchase or do any of it until we switched back rooms with the kids. And did we want to do this? No we did not.

In May of 2009, Bill and I were fairly sick of sharing a room with a toddler who woke us up by blowing raspberries in our general direction at 7am every morning so we made the decision to give the kids the big master bedroom which is upstairs, and we took the small downstairs bedroom. I was sad to leave the big room but, wow, it ended up working out incredibly well for us. The kids and their toys were contained upstairs and after bedtime we had the run of the downstairs, not having to worry about waking the kids up during a heated game of Lord of the Ring’s Trivial Pursuit {GEEK ALERT LEVEL: EXTREMELY HIGH}. It really, really was a fabulous set-up for us but unfortunately the downstairs bedroom is so tiny that there is just no way we could conceivably fit all the stuff that a baby requires in there so we knew the kids would need to migrate south.

So do you remember the bunk beds? Yeah. They’re huge. This is mostly why we put this off for so long. We did not want to move them, but having Bill take the top bunk would have allowed him to get out of way too many night feedings, so the switch was on and with some help we somehow managed to fit the bunk beds, two dressers, a book-case, and the American Girl dolls and their paraphernalia all in the downstairs room without it looking too comical and we now have ample space for our queen bed, a long dresser that will double as a changing table, the crib, bassinet and rocker up with us. It was a huge project that took our entire Sunday for just the room swap and accompanied organization. Monday I focused on switching the closets, which was…not fun, and Tuesday I focused on switching the bathrooms which was… also not fun. But! It is done now and it cleared the way for us to start plowing through our giant list of baby items that we needed to either take out of storage or purchase.

Our major purchases were:

A new infant car seat. We used the same graco snugride for Rowan and Keaton but we got rid of it after Keaton outgrew it because we knew it would be a LONG time before we got back on the baby train and those things have an expiration date. I bought an adorable Combi seat from Baby on Grand but when we got it home the manufacturer’s date was from 2007. And I was very “Uh, what?” because I explicitly asked if it was a 2012 model and was told yes. Turns out the model I chose hadn’t been manufactured since early 2010 so we swiftly returned it and kept looking. My first instinct was to go Britax but Bill hates Britax with the fiery heat of a thousand suns because they are so incredibly hard to install and the straps twist easily and are near impossible to keep straight. Then I really wanted a Peg-perego seat but they were a hundred dollars more than any other infant seat and when I compared it to other seats the handle was way harder to move up and down, it was bumpier when you rocked it and it was two pounds heavier than our next choice, which was the Chicco keyfit. This is a pretty big deal because with all the activities and running around I have with Rowan and Keaton, I needed to really have the most comfortable choice both for the baby and myself. So I kissed the trendier seat goodbye and went with the Chicco which is supposed to be super safe, ridiculously easy to install and I got the snap in stroller frame to go with it as we’ll be in and out of dance 4-6 days a week {GAH!}. Does anyone else expend this much thought and brainpower over a flippin’ car seat? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

Next we needed a crib. I waxed pretty sentimental about our crib when it was time to take it down, but in truth it was a {now illegal!} drop-sided death trap which collapsed with Keaton in it when he was 13 months old {He was unharmed, THANK JEBUS, and even actually fell asleep while pinned, but yeah, that sucker got tossed}. We wanted something pretty small and simple because it has to go in our room and our kids have transitioned easily from crib to toddler bed right at 24 months so it’s not a super long-term thing for us but we needed a standard size crib for our mattress so it ended up costing us more than we really wanted to spend which was sort of par for the course.

Then we were onto clothes, as I mentioned here, we needed a ton of crap and I will be the first to admit that I’m an incredible, insufferable snob when it comes to boy’s clothes so that pretty much crosses much of the cheap stuff off as those manufacturers seem to think “boy”only equals monkeys, sports, bears or trucks and eh, I’m not a fan. I’m more of a stars, stripes and solids type of gal, with maybe a sweet, simple elephant or bird thrown in for good measure. Luckily, baby gap had a pretty good sale the last couple of weeks so I scored some cuteness for a reasonable price and was able to supplement with some some simple, everyday stuff from Target, Carter’s and some hand-me-downs from Bill’s co-worker, so big yay.

I want this baby fully cooked, but laying these out makes me VERY impatient for them to be all filled out with a squishy baby.

The other tough part about clothes is not knowing what size baby you’re going to get. Both Bill and I were in the mid-seven pound range when we were born and he was around 20 inches and I was over 21 so my doc told me to expect something similar when I was pregnant with Rowan. My belly consistently measured between one and two weeks behind but we were still told to expect something around seven so we skipped the newborn stuff and just got 0-3 month clothes for her, aaaaand out she comes, barely six pounds and only 18 inches. By the time we left the hospital she was under six pounds so we ended up having to go out and get a few preemie outfits because she was drowning in everything we had. So with Keaton I made sure to have plenty of newborn and a few preemie options washed and ready for him. Again I was consistently measuring about a week behind and I had an ultrasound at 35 weeks where the doctor guessed he was on the small side. Less than three weeks later he was born at 7 lbs, 6 oz and over 21 inches long so the newborn stuff just fit him and due to his height I couldn’t get any of the preemie stuff on him at all.

This time, again, I have been measuring a week and a half behind and my weight gain has not been as impressive as it should be in these last weeks but when my midwife felt my stomach to try to determine the baby’s positioning, she proclaimed he was head down {good, Baby, now STAY} and that he felt very long. Going off of that and the fact that we’re going to try to cloth diaper him a majority of the time which will add some bootie bulk, we opted for mostly 0-3 months stuff.

Other than these big purchases, we made a lot of little purchases that add up, such as a tub, car seat bundler, head support, sheets, lotions, soaps, creams, medicine, pacifiers etc. etc. The bad news is KERCHING, the good news is, I think we’re pretty much set for this little guy to make his appearance.

Another stressor off my plate this week was that we for sure settled on Sammy Davis Jr Jr’s name, which we mostly knew all along but wanted to be sure. Five years ago, Bill and I had a TERRIBLE time coming up with a name for Keaton but finally landed on one we not only agreed on but really loved. We then made the mistake of telling a few family members who were extremely vocal about not liking the name. I was nine months pregnant at the time and so incredibly emotional and hormonal which caused me to completely lose it and decide we couldn’t name the baby something that family members wouldn’t like. So after many hormone induced sobbing fits, we finally landed on Keaton and I really like his name but after the pregnancy hormones vacated my body and the rational part of my brain was once again restored, I was very WTF, Christy? This is YOUR baby. YOU get to pick the name YOU like. I then decided if we ever had another boy that I wouldn’t let it phase me if others didn’t like it. I happen to love it and the fact that Bill and I have vastly different taste in names and that we both love this one is a small miracle in and of itself.

That being said, we did want to be sure-sure so we perused the baby books which resulted in Bill only reading the funny sounding names and giggling to himself. He liked basically NOTHING else, while I made small stops at Preston, Holden and Cullen because they “go” better with Rowan and Keaton but ultimately we decided it was either Cullen or our original name and when I asked the kids they were both adamant that they liked the original name much better {as did Bill}.

“Why don’t you like Cullen?”

Rowan: It sounds too close to Colin and I’d get mixed up. ****’s way more better.

Keaton: It sounds too close to Gollum. {To my midsection:} HELLOOOOO BABY GOLLUM!!! ARE YOU CREEPY IN THERE? DO YOU WANT MY RING?

So Keaton sort of ruined Cullen for me which, fine, Twilight already sort of did that. So that really sealed it and I just ordered a personalized “little brother” onesie with his name on it so that is THAT.

And? I now have to start preparing to actually birth this baby, which, I’ve uh, sort of been in denial of these last few weeks. So wish me luck with THAT whole thing and I promise to try to fit in one or two more similarly scintillating updates before we meet our little guy.

PS~ Updated pregnancy photos…

Slightly less ghetto bedroom mirror picture at 34.5 weeks and…

Back to the ghetto bathroom pics for 36 weeks, what can I say, I’m nothing if not incredibly lazy with my pregnancy documentation. Also, me = GIGANTORINATOR.

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This is where I tell you I’m going to dutifully write weekly pregnancy updates from now until Sammy Davis Junior Junior makes his grand debut on the sunny side of my uterus and I stand by writing this as long as you all know that in all actuality it has about a 4% chance of happening. Did that make sense? No? Eh. The point is, is that I’m going to try to document the third trimester of this pregnancy in the hopes that I will one day re-read this and remember what a special magical time this is, or maybe more probable, to NOT EVER DO THIS AGAIN.

So let’s sum up the first 26 weeks of the pregnancy so we’re all on the same page…

Week 1: This is {TMI!} actually the first day of the last period I had. It was a pretty shitty day, considering we’d been trying to conceive and now I knew for certain that not only was I not pregnant but another grueling month of terrible, awful sex would now be on the docket. {Anyone who has ever had trouble conceiving knows that sex is all fine and good until you have to do it on a schedule and ohmygod ALL of the nights in a row, and you’re tired and it’s just sooooo muuuuch woooooooorrrrrk}. Anyway to make matters worse I was signed up for centers that morning in Rowan’s class and it also just so happened to be the day that one of the kid’s parents brought in their teeny tiny 6 day old baby for show and tell. I may or may not have had to excuse myself to the hall so I could hide from the adorable newborn lest I start sobbing and freaking out 29 Kindergartners.

Week 2-3: Aforementioned grueling schedule of terrible, awful sex {uh, Bill if you’re reading this, it’s not you…it’s me. Except it’s still kind of you.

Week 4: Am I? Yes, I totally am. Oh of course I’m not, it’s never going to happen. But maybe yes? NO DUMMY, NEVER. But possibly?

Week5: Is that a line? Um, it’s pretty faint. They say if it’s there at all it means yes but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t count if you have to stand on your head and cross your eyes to see it. BILL!! Am I imagining this? What do you mean there’s nothing there?! Quick! Stand on your head and cross your eyes…see, I TOLD you.

?!?!?!?!?!?! With my other pregnancies, both lines where immediately, unmistakably dark blue. After many tests, this is the darkest line I ever got this time around which completely confused me.

78 dollars worth of pregnancy tests later? Totally pregnant! Now I have to wait to see if the puking starts to know if I have a viable pregnancy.

5 weeks, 6 days: PUKE! YAY … sort of. Hormone check at OB confirms I have enough HCG to support a litter of gunterlings so yup, there’s a real, live baby in there.

6-14 weeks: Complete. Utter. Misery. Only time I leave my bed is to dry heave/throw up. Try desperately to keep small amounts of food down for an hour or two so I can avoid the hospital where they will fill me with fluids and high doses of zofran so I feel human for roughly 6 hours before crashing back down into terribleness. Do not want.

15 Weeks: manageable days start to invade the awfulness. I get out of the house a few times, with varying degrees of success. I can sit upright on the couch for portions of most days instead of being bed-ridden.

16 weeks: had a pretty good week! Starting to feel human again!

16 weeks.

Weeks 17-19: Worst sinus infection known to man, a side effect of which is throwing up from all the goo dripping down into my delicate flower of a stomach. Remember that whole fucking ONE week I went without puking?! THAT WAS NICE.

Week 20: Slowly recovering. Starting to take over with the kids full time again. Starting to look like a real live pregnant person. Sort of.

21 weeks.

Week 21 Sammy Davis Junior Junior is a Boy!! WOOT.

23 weeks!

Weeks 22-24: Finally feeling relatively good. Like so good I’m invincible! Do invincible people let babies push them around and make them throw up? Do invincible people need Zofran, a powerful anti-emesis drug? UM, I DON’T THINK SO.

25 weeks: Quit taking zofran.

25 weeks, 1 day: God, I feel awesome. Probably because I AM super awesome.

25 weeks, 2 days: Yep. Still rocking the awesome.

25 weeks 3 days: Hmm..I feel a little less awesome today. I’m probably just tired from being so awesome all those other days. Even awesome people need a-

25 weeks 4 days: PUKE. NAUSEA. FIRE. BRIMSTONE. ET CETERA. I had maybe not told Bill the first 2 days because I knew he wouldn’t agree with my decision to go off the pills but by the third day I confessed and boy was I right, which is all I thought while I  listened to him lecture me about how I tried to go off zofran with Rowan and Keaton later in my pregnancies and how it didn’t go so well either time and GOD he talks a lot, blah de blah blah. Well on day four, even though I wasn’t feeling great, I had a point to prove {which, if you’ve forgotten, was that I was awesome} so I smugly told him I’d have a nice big breakfast which he skeptically made and when I sat down and looked at the eggs, hash browns and toast I promptly ran to the bathroom and huuuuuuuuurrrrrrllllleeeeddd. When I opened the door, there he stood with a glass of water in one hand, my pill in the other and a rather stern look on his face that clearly said QUIT BEING DUMB, DUMMY. After three days of awful nausea as I let the drug work its way back into my system…

week 26: I was right as rain, which brings us to…


27 weeks and apologies for the crappy camera phone/ghetto bathroom mirror pics but after having exactly 7 photos combined of my pregnancies with Rowan and Keaton, I thought it would be nice to document this one a little better but I’m not actually committed enough to pull my nice camera out or have someone else shoot me for the occasion; Lazy, etc.

Other things I’ve learned in the last 27 weeks…

After a slow start, this baby is extremely active. I’m 90% positive the child is training for the Olympics in there and I just don’t have the heart to tell him that he’s going to be a couple of months late for his event which must be something in the gymnastics category for all the flipping going on. The boy kicks me wide awake at three in the morning, like, “sorry mom, this is when I like doing my jumping jacks and squats and some nights a few high kicks because that’s how I roll”.

Got his first case of hiccups on July 12, which would have been precious had I not been trying to drift off to sleep at 11pm.

Hates it when I cross my legs, and will kickKickKICK me in the cervix until I uncross them.That’s not nice, Baby.

I’ve also learned that while symptom-wise my pregnancies are largely the same, each one comes with its own unique properties. This time, it’s GIGANTIC knockers. Since I was about 15 years old I’ve been a 34B. Over the years I might fluctuate between Barely B or a B and a Half, minus those first couple of months of nursing when, holy hell, your boobs are giant triple D’s no matter what. This pregnancy, for whatever reason, I got the giants right away and they are ridiculous. And obnoxious. What do you even DO with boobs this big besides strap them down the best you can and try not to get hypnotized by your own incredibly impressive cleavage? Also I’m sort of scared shitless at how much bigger they’ll get when they actually have a job to do when the baby comes.

I think that’s it for this week! Tune in next week when I discus how much I’ve fallen in love with, not my baby {although he’s pretty great, too} but ALL OF THE ADORABLE BABY ETSYNESS because oh Lord, there is so much cute.

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And this should surprise all of 2.7 whole people who haven’t already figured out why I a.) dropped off the face of the earth and b.) have been violently ill for the last 4+ weeks. It’s been…extremely rough. After I found out I was knocked up but before the nausea/vomiting kicked into high gear at just before 6 weeks, I had almost decided to blog through the sickness. Humor helps everything! I’ll make my puke funny and charming! Vomit with a heart of gold. Yeah, NO. There has been zero funny/charming moments the last month, only crippling nausea and so. much. dry heaving.

Since I’m NOT a fan of PICC lines and/or intravenous nutrition in general, I spend every day, all day trying to hold down small amounts of food long enough for it to move on from stomach to intestines, where it’s 50% more likely to stay in when I start puking/dry heaving. There is no relief from the nausea, it is there, it is constant, it feels eternal. Sometimes the medication slows the throwing up down to 1-3 times a day, and I’ve even gone a handful of days with no puking at all which would be comforting if I still wasn’t dying of nausea. Then for no known reason the next day the throwing up intensifies ten-fold, even though there is no change to my meager diet or medication. It makes no sense, it’s just the MAGICAL trickery of hyperemesis. Though I had to be medicated the entire nine months with both my previous FT pregnancies, with Rowan the worst tapered off  between 18-20 weeks, and with Keaton between 12-14 weeks, so best case scenario I have roughly 2-4 weeks left of this shit.

The kids have been doing okay, I think. To be honest I’m more worried about when I am well enough to take care of them again and they go into shock from lack of being spoiled by their grandmas, who have been a HUGE help as I’ve been completely bed or bathroom ridden. They come in to tell me about their days in the evenings and when I’m feeling well enough they climb up on my bed for bedtime songs. Because of our history of loss I didn’t really want to tell the kids about the pregnancy too early, but after a week of listening to me retch in the bathroom all day, I decided it was maybe better that they know what is wrong with mama instead of letting their imaginations run wild, or think they are somehow responsible. When we told them they both said “YAYYYyyyyy…!(?)” in a tone that started off excited but sort of faded out when the enormous reality of another sibling crashed down upon them. It was quite precious/amusing really, but after they asked if it was a boy or a girl and we told them it would be a long time before we found out, they changed the subject to something much more important like that one part in Despicable Me where one of the little green guys says ‘poop’.

{Sidenote: You know who sucks at keeping secrets? SIX-YEAR-OLDS. Keaton forgot about the whole thing 30 seconds after we told him but later that night we sat Rowan down and impressed upon her the importance of keeping our special news a secret for just a little while, explaining that we need to wait until the baby grows bigger and stronger. She was 100% listening and reflected her understanding both in words and body language. Naturally, by the end of the week her school and dance teachers plus 30 of her closest friends and acquaintances “accidentally” found out. Because she told them. Because she lies. Because secrets are “hard” and these things “just sort of happen”.}

You can’t tell it from this post, and honestly it’s hard to see the big picture through the puke and the medication haze, but we are insanely happy to be expecting Sammy Davis Junior Junior. This Ultrasound was ordered in part because of my history of miscarriage, in part because I’ve been so sick and in part because the little bugger was too stubborn to let us hear his/her heartbeat via doppler at my last appointment. But mostly I think my midwife could see how hopeless and terrible the last 4 weeks have been and she knew I needed to see some proof that there is a point to all this suffering. Seeing the little mite moving around in there, kicking feet, waving hands, beating heart and flipity flopping all over the screen was exactly it. Exactly what we needed and proof of exactly why I’m such a giant sucker to actively put myself through this for the third time. Now? Only 30ish weeks to go…

* I’ve been holding this title for quite some time, as evidenced by the comments on this post. Thanks, Heather!

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