Announcements

1. Nicole had her baby! Go see! She's a cutie!

2. I have showered two days in a row!

Accomplishing, and sitting

Today I've gotten some minor details taken care of, like calling for dentist appointments that are long overdue for all three of us big people, faxing a form for my work leave of absence, blah blah. Yesterday, Darling Husband cleaned the house, tip -top to bottom -- I can't thank him enough. [I was grumpy with him, unfortunately, and am choosing to blame it on hormones and say I'm really sorry, honey. I miss the fact that while we were in the hospital those 2 days, it was just him, me, and Baby. Kind-of like a retreat. Since we've gotten home it's been less just us and more "let's hurry and get back into our regular (new regular) rhythm." Kinda makes me sad but I guess it's reality. I've joked that eventually I'll have to stop being the invalid and start taking responsibility for things again. Thank goodness my Mom's still here to help me put THAT off.]

KT baby is just the sweetest thing. She's doing an every-other-night routine of good sleeping. Last night was her "off" night. Heh. The night before she gave me two stints of 3-hour sleeping and I felt GREAT yesterday. A friend wisely pointed out that because I'm fairly certain this is the last time I'll be doing this newborn thing, I'm probably less aggravated by being up with her. It's a time that's so fleeting, and I know to cherish it..... Okay, I'll admit being a little aggravated -- mostly because it still hurts to sit for too long, ifyaknowwhatimean -- but man, when the house is all quiet and I just get to sing "Hush, Little Baby..."? That's not such a bad lot in life.

So, what are you people doing? Did we watch the Oscars? (We did.) Did we care? Not really. In fact it probably worked well that KT was up last night, since I wanted to be up, anyway. I've been watching a lot of late-night TV -- keeping it on provides just the right amount of light in our bedroom for nursing and burping. I've watched a whole night's worth of Dirty Jobs, a whole night of FoodTV [go away, Paula Deen], 2 episodes of Married With Children (!?), and even a western -- Shenandoah -- for reasons unknown. Anyway, I thought most of the dresses last night were very pretty, except Tilda Swinton's. Gah. She ought to try makeup, too. I thought most of the awards were probably deserved and I enjoyed all the musical numbers from Enchanted! Go Amy Adams -- it was a little feast for a former musical theater nerd like myself. :)

Ooh, I also accomplished these Mocha Chip scones, and accomplished eating half of them myself. TRY THEM. No butter!

Day 5 Dispatch

The first few days are obviously about surviving -- in our case so far, they are about cold cereal breakfasts and afternoon talk shows. Supply and demand in the feeding department, of course (going okay so far, and I'm proud of myself for powering through some of what I know must be just early pain that WILL go away -- I'm like a marathoner, wooooo! push through that next mile), and keeping things like the spilled sugar on the kitchen countertop out of my mind.

She checked out fine at the first peds appointment. Had to get rechecked for bilirubin levels and ever-so-slight jaundice, but all came back normal.

My husband is a dream come true. He is overcome with love for his Kate.

My parents have been wonderful helping with everything, and AJ -- what can I say about that wonderful boy? HE is also surviving these weird days. I don't get too emotional, post-partum-wise, except when I think about him, and how MUCH I love him and the unfortunate requirement that I neglect him a bit more than I'm used to while I'm utterly and so, so willingly attached, literally and figuratively, to this precious little girl. I can't stand to be away from her. It's overwhelming. :)

Welcome

Katelyn Elise
born February 15, 2008

6 lbs, 15 oz

18.5 inches

~We are a family of four!~

Distraction - My Post Meme

I've been tagged by my friend at LagLiv to do a meme that's, surprise, all about me! And my posts. Past ones, you see, that I like. Here we go. (Hey, one thing first: Did you guys know I'm thisclose to having a baby? Except, not?)

THE RULES:
** Post about the meme and link back to the person that tagged you.
** Go back to your archives and link to your five favorite posts.

Link One: must be about family
Link Two: must be about friends
Link Three: must be about yourself
Link Four: must be about something you love
Link Five: can be anything you choose

** Tag five other people (at least two must be new acquaintances so that you can get to know them better).


1. My post about Family: Well, there are lots of posts about the family that lives inside my house, but since my parents have joined us this week to help with the baby prep, let's read about them and how good they were (are) at parenting.

2. My post about Friends: Looking through all my posts, I realized I don't post very much about my friends. However, I have some wonderful ones! Including, of course, MaryB, whom you should all know and be reading. I met her a few weeks before freshman year of high school, either at Orientation or at the meeting for those interested in cheerleading. We were fast friends and I can only recall one or maybe two fights in all these coughtwentyohmygodcough years. In our adult lives, she has also become my clothing supplier! Love her!

3. My post about Me: This one.

4. My post about something I love: Of course, it's about
music. I love being able to read music, knowing a little something about theory, and having an outlet for performing it.

5. Anything I like: This is one about working out and dieting, which is not always a heartwarming topic, but during this pregnancy as I've watched other people make resolutions and start fitness programs, I've gotten kind-of... jealous. I miss my old body (not that it was ever perfect), and I've been thinking about how I'll tackle the losing weight issue in 6 or 8 months or (18 months) whenever I can muster up the gumption.

Alright, tagging my five people! Gerah, because she's BACK! And maybe she should unearth some of her old stuff for all her new readers. Slynnro, because I'm new to her blog and it appears she has plenty of archives to choose from. Mandy! because she's my 2nd cousin and maybe she has some MySpace archives she could link us to. Arwen, because maybe she needs a writing prompt to thaw her out (and because she writes beautifully), and Skiplovey, because I definitely want to learn more about her funny self.

I feel ... sheepish*

Y'all, I am feeling really stupid for not having had a baby yet. My MIL left yesterday and her "reinforcements," my parents, arrived. Reinforcements for what, I don't know. For sitting on my couch and possibly folding my laundry. I'm glad they're here, of course.

Went to WBlech-Mart yesterday and drove the cart so slowly around the aisles that AJ fell asleep in there. Hee! It was cute. But the trip wore me right out. Afterwards I could do nothing but sit, sit, sit. Oy, the Gravity was painful.

I'm worried my cold has turned into a sinus infection.

Aren't I lovely??

In happier news, I think the nursery looks great:




*no one remembers that line from Aladdin, but it is my favorite. By the inimitable Robin Williams as the Genie.

Building a kid's self-esteem

Ah, self-esteem. The thing all of us probably have, or have had, trouble with during our lives. Whether it's in your pre-teen years when you just realize that other folks are looking at you, or in that most awful of times, high school, or even after you're an adult and have kids of your own. Helping our kids establish a healthy sense of self is so important. This article made me think about it, and had a lot of good points, I thought.

AJ is very small and very shy. He doesn't particularly play with any specific "friends" yet, and sometimes I wonder about how his self-esteem will play out, as he gets older. We're good about most of the things the article mentions. We love him unconditionally, set limits (or try to), let him know mistakes are okay, pay attention to him, etc. I am intrigued by their discussion of the delicate balance between "Praise" versus "Encouragement." I'm very prone to saying "I'm proud of you" when he does well with something. I've also been known to tell him he's pretty smart -- because he is! I do wonder, can that kind of praise really be detrimental? I guess I need to attach a specific task to it, like, "Good job, remembering to throw away your empty juice box." Or, "You are really learning your numbers, do you like to count?"

On the other hand, maybe it's all just over-thinking.

---------

To build MY self-esteem (and distract me from my tummy) my friend Lauren gave me this! We're blog buddies! What fun! I would like to pass it on to black sheeped, because she is so spunky and sweet. :)

Still no news...

Forget waterboarding, this Having No Idea When This THING is Going to Happen is about to be classified as INHUMANE. Went to the doc today and had dilated a slight bit more, but no other significant developments. Except the doctor went in and waved her magic little fingers to maybe start up some action.

Still.... No. Idea.

I'm ready for a little snuggly baby to hold. I'm ready to go productively to the hospital. I'm most of all ready to turn on my 'Out of Office' message on LOTUS NOTES at work, and be done with that stuff. I just can't concentrate on it now but I feel like, if I'm not contracting, I might as well be emailing and finishing things up. I mean, I guess it's still conceivable that I'll be pregnant on Feb 24th, so... just, who knows. That would make me weep, you know.

Mostly I'm irritable when real-life strangers KEEP asking me "When are you due?" like the door-to-door sales-kid did today; or "No news??" like AJ's daycare teachers keep doing. (Not YOU people, of course, or people I love. Moms, best friends, sisters, and blog buddies can ask all you like.)

I've also gotten advice to "go for a walk," so labor will really start. Dudes, if I could walk comfortably around the house, I'd walk down the block. But let me say this: cement shoes.

But no, wait, this is all a MIRACLE and a JOY.

Grateful

I'm so thankful that my mother-in-law has arrived to TAKE CARE OF US. Yeesh, yesterday I was so fuzzy under the blanket of a stupid head-cold, and I felt like such absolute kee-rap that when she appeared at the door at 2:30, I nearly cried with relief and collapsed in her arms. Of course, of course, I wish it were MY own mom -- even my MIL realizes that we all want our OWN mommies, which gives her BIG POINTS in my book. But we determined that I'd rather have my mom here AFTER baby girl joins us, so I can cry in HER arms when everything is WRONG, WRONG, WRONG. So MIL is here now.

And I'm super grateful.

She is, as I type this, folding her third or fourth load of laundry.

She drove on up, because Sunday night was more than a SuperBowl, wasn't it? I mean, the game, yeah, the game was great. Even the commercials were better, I thought, than the last few years. But for us it was REALLY more: I had 3 hours of -- seriously, y'all -- 4-minutes-apart contractions. I thought for sure we'd be heading to the hospital and we considered which kind of homage we should pay the football gods for delivering her safely that night: we could've named her Manning, Brady, or maybe Belly-Check (HAR DEE HAR HAR)! That's what we spent the first 2 quarters doing, anyway. Checking my belly. It was big fun. Sitting down didn't stop 'em. Lying down didn't. Cold water didn't. But I was still able (and willing) to eat my share of our hosts' spinach dip and pizza ring, and I walked around a bit without my "cement shoes," as hubby calls it when I waddle around at a snail's pace... so I couldn't really decide if it was "REAL" labor or what. Called the doctor, who didn't seem concerned. Then everything subsided and we all went about our business.

I fell asleep during the beginning of the 4th quarter (body a little worn out, maybe?) then woke up in time for the best part of the game.

* * * * * * * *

I've gotten a little sad a couple times this week, thinking, "But our family is just perfect like it is." Even though I know it will only get MORE perfect and there will be MORE love. It's a little bittersweet, I guess. And then Beth started taking pictures of her daughter's "last only-child" moments, and... I hadn't even thought of that.

What I've Done Today

-- timed contractions for an hour (5-6 am, ugh). They were about 16 minutes apart. And stopped around 6:30 or 7.

-- got my hair cut. for the last time before Baby. also for the last time with that stylist, she's leaving (sob!).

-- made my husband paint a few items of nursery decor (told ya I couldn't stand it)

-- wondered, "are THESE my THIGHS? (How did they get so... wide?)"

Admittedly

Alright, maaayyyybeeee I got a little overheated about yesterday's doctor's appointment. Maybe. I sat still as much as I could last night (hoooooray for LOST's return to the TV screen! 2 hours of mind-boggling entertainment) and never had any regular contractions, and usually they were at least a half-hour apart. So. But DOODS! Here I was thinking, "Oh, I still have at least 3 weekends to finish all these Major Preparations, la la la..." and the idea that maybe I don't just freeeeeaked me out a bit.

So I made two casseroles last night for dinner instead of one (freezer-time!) made hubby get the infant carseat out of storage, and made that trip to Babies R Us for a few last-minute items. I sort-of hate that Baby's room is just not quite finished yet (bare walls! no toys cleverly placed to appear as "decor!") but I suppose second kids just get the shaft and she may as well get used to it. Fewer photos, half-assed baby book, boring nursery. Not to mention she won't be living in there the first few weeks anyway. Blah. Stop worrying, self. Settle. Down.

But thanks for all your supportive comments. This little adventure is about to begin!

Here's my question to you: for your warehouse membership needs, Costco or Sam's? Both are equidistant from my house and I'm remembering how much I love their ha-yooge boxes of diapers. The land of plenty! C'mon, admit it -- you shop there too. To which should I become a loyal subscriber, do you think?

And seriously, Lost, y'all. Does Matthew Fox look even better this year or is it just me? The flash-forward scenes where he's all dressed in a business suit... SIGH. Very pretty. ;)

Edited to add: Hey, someone started it in comments: Let's have a Guessing Game! Closest to the actual due date WINS! (my love and affection)

HO.LY. ----

Anyone want to hear some numbers?

1.5 cm
50% eff.

If that means anything to you, then please join me as I start to PANIC.

:) ? !

p.s.? My husband remembers getting a doctor's report of "1.5 cm" last time. We went to Labor & Delivery that very night.

panic panic panic panic panic...

Coming back

I'm feeling things again, spiritually. Throughout this pregnancy, and even before then, I guess, I've felt like I had this dark hallway in my heart that nothing was getting through. Not depression, not sadness, just a flatline of emotion, especially concerning faith and matters of spirit. Oh, I've gone to church; I've prayed here and there. But nothing real, nothing genuine seemed to stay at the forefront.

Of course, we were so busy. For so long. And I let that stress really take over my thoughts and push out the clean breath of knowing how small I am, knowing how good God is, and living for that every day. Instead I lived for details and schedules and had nearly forgotten to look up at the sky once in a while, and take that clean breath.

Lately I can feel my heart coming back. I wonder if it's the nearness of new life, the impending birth of a new baby, and my inner self instinctively knowing that it's about to be washed - baptised again - by love and hope for her?

I find things are moving me that haven't, in a year: A song on the radio this morning, one that has been released a long while, and I've heard but never really tuned into, reached me today and got me teary. (It prays that God will "Cover up my heart,/ cover up my soul,/ cover up my life/ and everything I know/... and I felt the words exactly when I heard it today.) Last night in bed my hands and fingers throbbed, and while my first thought was, "Gawd, why me? Why this? It HURTS..." my second thought was, "Wait, be still and grateful -- this pain is a gift. The gift of a life that we get to have and hold and be responsible for. God? I'd rather be thankful for this privilege."

Getting his own juice

My wee baby son, who not so long ago was barely learning to talk
and then stepping down stairs, and learning to do lots of other big-boy things, is now in front of the fridge he opened, pouring his own apple juice and not. even. spilling. it.

Wait, hang on... he remembered to close the fridge door when he was done.

Good thing that as I finished that paragraph he also asked me urgently to help him, "I can't do 'Menu,' Mama! Can't do 'Menu!'" (on the DVD remote). Whew, he still needs me. :)

Little dude had a fever yesterday and was just so pathetic. Laying down on the couch of his own free will? What is that? Covered with a blanket, no less. He did that TWICE. Thank goodness they haven't taken Children's Tylenol off the shelves yet, though I'm sure that's coming. My friend who was born on a farm in the fifties reminds me that his mom gave him a spoonful of turpentine when his stomach hurt. Y'know, to EASE the pain. HA! I am sure we'll have to revert to that in this next uber-regulated, nothing's-safe-to-sell day and age. It'll be like the bomb hit or something and we have to start over from scratch.

But I digress.

So he's home with me today and we're trying to keep it low-key, but he obviously feels
fine now. We were just outside playing -- kicking the soccer ball. He's pretty darn good -- can stop it when it's coming to him, and kick it back in a fairly straight line. He's also being brave: willing to go retrieve the soccer ball when it rolls near the yard with three (fenced-in) big, barky labs. He totally would NOT have done that a year ago. He would have cried 'til I did it for him. We play board games like Parker Brothers is going out of style: Sorry, Disney Candyland (at least twice a day each), and sometimes Leapfrog Bingo and Caribou. He knows that an Eleven in Sorry means he can either move eleven spaces or switch with an opponent. (He doesn't always choose the most strategic of the two, but HEY.) He goes to the bathroom all by himself -- moves the stepstool under the light switch to turn the light on himself, then scoots it back to the potty. He even sometimes washes his hands if I shout at him a little. He tolerates one or two spicier foods. He fork-cuts his own pieces into smaller bites, if they're too big. He'll sit across from me at the table and color with markers for a span of ten or fifteen minutes.

He's still not brushing his own teeth so DH or I do it, which is getting to be a pain. He's still not over making a giant mess at mealtime by smearing something on his vinyl placemat. He's still employing the whine tactic a lot when he thinks he's not going to get his way. He still wants me to lie down with him as he falls asleep.

But as a general rule, the kid is actually growing up, right in front of my very eyes. I'm not going to know what to do when a new infant shows up next to him, and reinforces this fact by her very presence.

My baby.

Productivity

Well! After a particularly good morning on the work-front, wherein I completed Contract Negotiations for one client (sounds impressive but has really been a giant pain in my ass for 4 months -- or is that a pain in my giant ass?), compiled some data and made Pivot Tables for my boss (hear me ROAR! Pivot Tables are HARD for me! Excel-hater here...), and wrote a stunning, "outstanding" email to another client (acc'd to the VP who reviewed it).... I am pretty much mentally pooped. It may be all I can do to read blogs and appear busy the rest of the day.

I also need something chocolate. Oh, vending machine? I fly to thee.

However, my productivity shall continue tonight: I plan to pack the ever-important hospital bag. I think I can get away with a small-ish tote bag this time. All I'm going to take are the following:

-- iPod and ear buds (but they live in my purse)
-- magazines like People and Cosmo: no real books!
-- lip balm
-- gum
-- a present for AJ "from Baby Sister"
-- my camera, OBVIOUSLY
-- a couple of nightgown-type garments for me
-- a couple of going-home-type garments for her
-- a few snacks I like... i.e., NOT Goldfish
-- a small makeup bag with the essentials (toothbrush, paste, comb, shampoo, powder foundation and lipgloss)
-- pads and possibly some good, big underwear (although last time I did get pretty friendly with the fishnet variety the hospital provides)
-- a bottle and some formula just in case
-- a clean pillowcase to put on the pillow I will be bringing from my very own bed

I don't know if hubby wants me to include any items for him since we'll be close to home this time. Probably a toothbrush would be wise. I'm thinking even my going-home outfit can just be retrieved the first time someone is available. I figure there will be much more running in-between hospital and house this time, with AJ to attend to, and no interstate on the paththankGod.

What makes me excited about this packing list is that I probably need to run by our favorite store to get some of these things. (See. Spot.) And AJ requested that his Daddy pick him up from school today, so Hooray! You'll know where to find me at 5:00 p.m.

Happy Friday.

iPod, and adding Injury to Insult

This morning I heard two songs on the radio that I want to download immediately:

Goo Goo Dolls: Better Days (2005)

and

Brandon Heath: I'm Not Who I Was (2007)

I'm also psyched about a few of the songs from this album, by my real-life friend from college. Go listen! Buy! He is very, very talented.

I've been compiling a list of other songs I want, and I'm excited to have a big gift card for iTunes from Christmas. New music is something I haven't wanted in a long time. I think because I so rarely get to listen to my iPod anyway -- or if I do, it's with AJ in the car, and he requests the same songs every time. Good songs! But the same ones. "Particle Man," "No! No! No!," and the Spiderman theme song as sung by the Ramones (I think). :)

All these songs I want are really calm, acoustic-y ones, which complements my theme for early 2008 -- trying to relax myself and chill out before the impending Unrelaxed State due Feb 24th. I hope one of these becomes a real favorite. During AJ's birth, I had a very sweet song stuck in my head (Amy Grant's "My Jesus, I Love Thee"), and I really hope that happens again for this Baby's entrance to the world. I might have to employ the iPod, actually, to make it happen. We'll see.

- - - - - ...and now back to our regularly scheduled complaining... - - - - -

Okay, this third trimester stuff is really just NOT a whole lot of fun, can I tell you? In the past week I've had a couple of very painful nights of crampy bullsh*t, where my lower abdomen just feels like it's on FIRE. They're not regular-interval cramps like contractions, just one loooong contraction I guess. On top of that, the pelvic pain and hip pain is beginning to really hurt during the night. I mean, I do sit most of the day, and commute; there is a lot of weight helping gravity's natural tendency there. And the launch-pad's creaky beams are making room and making ready, so okay, I can deal. I know it's all normal -- the doctor told me so -- and I'm not a first-timer. I'm trying not to get all het up about "normal."

I'm also getting BIGGER as we speak, and last week I had to go buy, 5 weeks before I'm due mind you, 3 pairs of pants in size large because my mediums are just not working anymore. Fine, whatever, I'm Large and in Charge. But on top of the pain already emanating from down there, Monday I wear some of the new pants without washing them first (desperate times), and the seam is so rough on the insides of my (dry, can't-reach-'em-with-lotion) thighs that now I also have to deal with flaming, bumpetty skin.

Gah. It is no wonder pregnant women waddle. (Warm baths every night have been very helpful for the contrax, by the way, although I can't lay down in the bath. I just sit there and pour big cupfuls of water over my shoulders for about 30 minutes. Quite nice. Send more bubble bath.)

What does a girl have to do to get a doc to write "Bed Rest" on a little white slip of paper? Because I'm thinking that would make it allllll better.

This is more like it

Not Snow Much

Well, metro Atlanta survived our fifteen flakes of snow with nary a frostbitten pinky toe, as usual making mountains out of molehills. Me included. I guess we just can't help getting excited to see the white stuff we hear so much about falling out of the actual sky. AJ and I were coming out of the grocery store when it started, and his first-time enthusiasm coupled with my nostalgia made for tongues hanging out to catch it, and positively joyful laughter as we soaked up the wintery-ness of it all. It was so fun to watch him. I may have accidentally mentioned that if it snowed a lot we wouldn't have school. And in my defense, they were predicting a lot of frozen rain and low overnite temps, which might have wrecked the streets and power lines... but it didn't. It all ended with some very uninteresting rain, making things just wet and annoying instead of "fairytale wonderland." Oh well.

Luckily, AJ went off to school this morning without any protesting, which has become pretty rare until this week. I think we're over yet another little tantrum hurdle -- when do these stop, exactly? Sigh. He's doing great in his new classroom, though, bringing home artwork where he has lined up elephant pictures from biggest to smallest, or drawn lines in diagonals across the page from SOCK to SHOE and HAT to HEAD and other things that match. I just love watching him learn.

I went to the OB yesterday and have finally gone all the way through their rotation, so I saw a doc I'd seen before, and decided I really like him. He's got a gentle bedside manner but tells it like it is, and I appreciate both of those things very much. Here's hoping he is on call the day I deliver. We've also got the nursery coming together (slowly but surely) and I washed a big load of itsy bitsy clothes -- none of which really needed washing. My friend who donated girl things to me obviously washed them before she gave them to me -- they even smelled like detergent -- and I had washed my own stuff before binning it three years ago.... but still. [Aside -- I am surprised at how many of AJ's onesies and little sleep gowns I am getting to reuse. He seems so BOY now, I forgot that sometimes 'baby' is just 'baby,' no matter what flavor you get. We had a ton of yellows, oranges, and greens and I'm so excited to cuddle and squeeze see them again. Hee.] You feel like you WANT TO do those Dreft loads. It's a ritual or something, a true PART OF getting ready for a baby. Next up is the casserole-freezing, I guess. And muffins. (Inspiring!)

High Class Trash

I am strangely addicted to yet another BravoTV hit, The Real Housewives of Orange County. Show of hands: Anyone? It's a love-hate thing for me -- these women are portrayed as whiny, bitchy, have-it-alls -- and I do mean ALL, we're talking millions of gadollars here. Exactly the type of person that makes me gag.... yet I can't. stop. watching. (Not meaning to judge, of course, because I certainly have everything I could ever want or need and *I* certainly whine and bitch, but you know what I mean.)

Last night rewarded my enduring XBox Live and hockey all week (love you Honey, and there's nothing else on anyway) with TWO episodes. In the first, they were having a Botox Party at a local plastic surgeon's office, complete with sushi, wine, and free consultations. Now I'm no expert on plastic surgeons, but um.... it seems to me if the invitation said they were going to seduce me with fancy wine in a big glass and THEN conduct my free consultation, I would notice that *something is fishy about this.* Sure enough, once the 39-year-old housewife was drunk enough, she thought everything the doctor said was either hysterical or GOSPEL TRUTH. She "wasn't planning to have anything done, but after the doctor told me I needed this lift and that lift..." she jumped right up onto the table for a Botox injection right then and there.

Brilliant of the doctor, I guess. I should give him credit for being a smart businessman and knowing his customers.

The second episode was the 39-year-old's 40th birthday party in which she MOANED and CRIED and RENT HER GARMENTS about turning 40, on her yacht... until her husband presented her with a BIG FAKE "I spent my last few dollars on this" Diamond encrusted -- no, Diamond Covered Rolex. And oh, ho, ho, by "last few" he meant "forty-thousand." The other women, in their confessional scenes where they speak directly to the camera, were all, "It's a rite of passage to receive your first (diamond) Rolex." BWAHH HAHAHAHAHA! God, they are funny. My first Fossil must be the middle-class equivalent. (I love my Fossil.)

After that, she didn't mind being forty so much, though. Go fig. Time to get drunk again, she said, pass the champagne.

It does sort-of bother me that they're calling all these women "housewives" when a) most of them have housecleaners and gardeners and pool-boys, which I'm not sure but I think means they don't fit the traditional definition of the word housewife. And b) two of them aren't even married, they've been divorced for more than 10 years each. ("You keep using dat word... I do not tink it means what you tink-a it means.") In Season One there was a single girl on the show who happened to be dating a very rich Orange County guy whose money she spent hither and yon. Dear Bravo: NOT A HOUSEWIFE.

To think, this used to be the network that showed intelligent, arthouse movies and James Lipton.

And yet... I'm a bit excited that they're doing a New York City spin-off this spring.

Let it snow, and photos

Ooh, they're predicting some sort of cold and precipitation for Wednesday/Thursday! Yay! Maybe we can get a snow-day out of it. You know, big southern city goes all Chicken Little when there's a potential for white stuff coming out of the sky.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I have been meaning to post a few pictures of the New Year's Eve wedding bash, mostly to show off the world's most adorable three-year-old in a tuxedo:

Practicing our runway walk before the festivities...

Charming the ladies on the dance floor...

Sampling his bartending skills (Sprite, meatballs, pretzels, chocolate-dipped marshmallows, and a strawberry) ... doesn't look like it's much of a hit...hey, I didn't care, it kept him occupied...

and finally...

Causing mom and dad to burst with pride and joy and Happy New Year feelings that will last and last. Awwwwww. Look, all dressed up we're pretty festive!