Inside my head for 10 minutes
1. Matt’s pretty darn fantastic. He called asking for the grocery list so he can go grocery shopping now and just get home early. Sure, it’s probably because he wants something other than oatmeal for dinner, but it’s the thought that counts.
2. I thought I had left my cellphone in Carly’s purse, but sure enough after a day of e-mail correspondence, found it to be in my coat pocket the whole time. I don’t know what’s sadder: the fact that I completely forgot that I did in fact put it into my own pocket after telling myself to do so or the fact that Carly hadn’t looked in her purse in 2 days.
The only thing she has in her purse of mine is my debit card and work ID. That ID sure gets around. Just a few days ago it was in Harrisburg. Jealous.
3. A conversation with Claire:
C: Is my Crosby shirt in the wet wash or the dry wash?
Me: It’s in your hamper.
C: It’s not even getting cleaned? Then why can’t I wear it?
Me: Because it has yogurt on it. It smells. Plus you wore it yesterday and the day before.
C: That’s not fair. I’m a good girl, I should get to wear my Lets Go Pens shirt.
Me: It’s not based on if you’re a good girl or a bad girl. It’s gross. It’s dirty. Do you want to be the dirty gross girl?
C: Does that mean I get my Crosby shirt?
Clearly, my future with her is getting a little more clear.
4. Now try to (not) imagine me in a compromising position while the baby is being checked with this conversation:
Doctor (speaking directly to my lady parts): Part of the problem is that you are having some severe relaxation of the sacral iliac joint. It’s normal for a woman, like you, whose had several children in a short period of time. Your hips are just more lax than other pregnant women. I suggest you go to Home Depot or Lowes and buy a carpenters belt that you can secure around your hips to sort of glue your hips back together.
Me: Like a maternity belt?
Doctor: Yes, like that, but something thin that you can fit under your belly. You realize you’re carrying low, right?
Me: Painfully aware.
Doctor (still to my crotch and not my face): So when you’re on your sixth child, this pain you’re feeling will happen around 6 weeks pregnant. Something to look forward to, right?
Me: Sixth kid?!?
Doctor (finishing up checking me): Wow you carry low. Here, give me your hand…feel that? That’s the baby’s head. (Note – at this point I was about a millimeter from grabbing the forbidden territory.) It’s head is practically replacing your bladder.
Me: Tell me about it.
Doctor: I’m surprised you’re not more uncomfortable.
Me: Isn’t being pregnant and bearing children supposed to be uncomfortable?
Doctor (to my face): I guess you’re right.
Little did he know I was talking about the whole conversation with my vagina to be uncomfortable, but hey, whatever, right?
(And Home Depot? Really? My step dad thought that was a funny comment. He told me I could borrow his tool belt. Jerk.)
5. There’s a show on Nick Jr that my kids absolutely love called “Dino Dan.” Here are my issues with it:
*It teaches kids it’s OK to imagine that there are dinosaurs roaming the Earth still and that a T Rex isn’t really going to eat you.
*This kid just up and leaves his class and goes outside, by himself. And there’s no one around him. And he’s got to be like 10 or something.
*His Mom doesn’t care that he truly believes that there are dinosaurs in his backyard and that he talks to them. I understand a healthy imagination and all…
*I understand the kid’s got passion for Dinosaurs, but really? Really? I remember as a kid knowing about the T Rex, the Stegosaurus, and the Triceratops. But Pachycephalosaurus? MY KID IS ONLY 3.
6. I think Thor would make an amazing baby name. Right? It goes with my Norwegian heritage, Matt already got his Italian name (regardless that Luca is SO Scandinavian looking,) and it’s like…THOR. You don’t mess with Thor. Or you do. Because the name is so off the wall. But then the poor kid that’d make fun of Thor would probably get their butt handed to them by Claire. If she’s anything like me, she’d take care of business. (Side note – when I was in 4th grade I punched another kid in the face because he made fun of my sister. Bastard.)
Baby, if you can read my thoughts as I type this, you best be praying you’re a girl. We’ve still got nothing.
7. LASTLY: My favorite Happy Birthday Message on Facebook:
(It’s from my oldest friend ever.) Happy Birthday, old friend. May your next 12 months be filled with joy and no more pregnancies.
(To which I responded, here here!)