Fan Mail - The VanDonkelaars

I have eleven followers (I know, I know, I basically can't even leave the house, lest I am bombarded by paparazzi) who read this blog religiously and are genuinely disappointed when I am absent from my craft. These people give me a huge head and make me feel super cool. Two of those people are my sister, Laura and her husband, Eric (well, technically, Eric isn't an official follower of my blog, but he probably asks me the most about future writings and generally tells Laura that there is a new posting, so I'll let it slide . . . for now). Laura and Eric will always comment on a new blog and also nagged me about writing more when I was on my maternity hiatus. I thought I would reward them by writing a blog all about them and since I am a fan of making lists (as the last two blogs have shown) I thought I would make a list of a few of the things I love about them as a thank you to being devoted followers. Laura and Eric, this one's for you.

1. The VanDonkelaar Language – If you watch Laura and Eric interact, you will probably hear a few words that you are unfamiliar with or thought meant something else. An example conversation may look something like this:

Eric: “Wow, I can’t believe you painted all these rooms while I was gone!”

Laura: “I know, do you like the colors?”

Eric: “I think they are really dank.”

Now, if you heard this conversation, you would probably think that Eric doesn’t like the new colors because to most people the word ‘dank’ means dark and damp, but according to Laura and Eric, this word means awesome. Rule of thumb, if you are every confused by what they are saying, look up the word in question on UrbanDictionary.com. Or you could ask them what it means and then feel really old when you hear the answer because it is apparently what "all the kids are saying."

2. Boom-Boom Chicken – About a week after Zachary was born Laura and Eric came down to visit us and wanted to make a dinner for us. They gave us three options and we chose the Boom-Boom Chicken. It is so delicious. Eric got busy frying up some chicken while Laura concocted the Boom-Boom sauce. If you haven’t had Boom-Boom sauce, it is a delicious combo of sweet and spicy and it is oh-so-good. I ate way too much that night and after that Laura and Eric have had a ton of requests for this meal. It is really time consuming though so they aren’t always thrilled to make it; however, they love to please a crowd. We were recently told that there would be a hold on the Boom-Boom chicken for a while, but I am hoping this little shout out makes them change their mind.

3. Hosts-with-the-Mosts – Troy and I went to visit Laura and Eric at their old apartment last winter and they pulled out all the stops for us. They made the guest room cozy and inviting; they had towels easily accessible and they went shopping to buy treats we would like. When Troy and I got up in the morning, we found a mini breakfast buffet waiting us. The coffee pot was all ready to brew with the touch of a button. There were coffee cups sitting out for us to use. The toaster was on the counter and next to it was a loaf of whole wheat bread, a new container of Nutella and a plate with a butter knife. Troy's favorite cereal was out and displayed and delicious creamers were available to accompany the coffee that was ready to be brewed. They made us a delicious dinner and showed us around town. We had a great time and are looking forward to our next visit.

How cute is this?

4. Height Factor – Ever since we were kids, Laura has pretty much always been taller than me. In fact, everyone thought she was the older one, which I use to hate and now I wouldn’t mind so much. Then she married a man who was even taller than she. When Laura was dating Eric, one of the pros was that she could wear heels with him. I personally love how tall Eric is. When I go to hug him, I think my head comes to his armpits and I feel like a little kid hugging my grandpa. That's a random one, but it's the truth.

5. B.F.F.s – Laura and I are super good friends, so when Troy came into the picture, he knew he had to get in good with Laura in order to stick around.  When Laura and Eric started dating, Eric not only had to get in good with me, but also with Troy. It turned out great and the four of us are really good friends. We love spending time with the VanDonkelaars and wish we lived closer so we could hang out with them more. There are lots of airports around the Cincinnati area . . . (hint, hint.)

There are obviously a ton of things I love about Eric and Laura that this blog simply could not contain. But since they are always giving me a big head, I thought I would return the favor to my number one fans. Thanks for making up 18% of my followers. To Laura and Eric!! Cheers!

Laura and Eric VanDonkelaar - Nonsense Fans

No Butts About It

However inappropriate this comment may be, I am just going to go for it. My husband has a great butt. I was once one of those people who thought it was gross when people would comment on how great a butt was. I thought that butts were strictly for utilitarian purposes – I think we all know what I am talking about here. Then I married the man with a shelf on his lower back side, and it is fantastic. I am pretty sure it’s okay to think about butts as long as they belong to your spouse. I am also pretty sure that my spouse would prefer me to get to my point of this blog rather than continue to divulge in the conversation of his rear end. So, I will move on . . . .

Aren't these two adorable?!

. . . To my son’s butt. He has the cutest little baby tushie and I love it. In my previous blog, I mentioned that Zachary has the same bedtime routine every night to help him get ready for his “long sleep.” Part of that routine is bath time. We take off his clothes and diaper and walk over to the bathtub. This is my favorite time of the day….nakey baby time. We always make a big deal about Zachary’s cute and chubby rump which he clenches en route to the bath. There is even a song that goes with this ritual. That is what happens when a cute baby butt is exposed. We were visiting my family at my parents’ lake house for Labor Day weekend and we even showed off his cute backside to his Uncle Eric and Aunt Laura, who also thought it was adorable – because it is.

That being said, I made a comment to Troy one night about how cute Zachary’s butt is to which he commented that I have – and I quote – “a very healthy butt-addiction.” It’s true, though only when it applies to my men. It’s not like I am thinking about random men’s/babies butts. To be honest, admitting my “healthy butt-addiction” is kind of a weird confession that I was not sure I should even blog about at all. I mean, who commits to writing a whole blog about butts? Well, I suppose I do so if I am going to do this, let’s do this right.  We were all made in different shapes and sizes and the “desired butt of choice” is different for everyone. Let’s talk about a few;

1. The Baby Butt – This butt is at the top because it is probably the cutest. Who can’t resist two tiny cheeks that normally don’t get to see the light of day because you are really flirting with danger by allowing a baby to freestyle.

2. The Significant Other Butt – This category has a large spectrum. This is basically the butt that catches your eye. Hopefully it is attached to your spouse, otherwise you are gonna get into trouble.

3. The Hairy Butt – Yep, I went here. I don’t think I really need to explain this one.

4. The J-Lo Butt – This is the butt I wish I had. This butt can fill out jeans like nobody’s business and looks great on a dance floor.

5. The No Butt – I would fall into this category. For some reason, my sister Laura and I got this gene. We don’t have butts. I like to say my butt is really just the tops of my legs. It seriously hurts if I am sitting too long because of a lack of padding. We get it from our grandpa who also is a No Butt and has to sit on a pillow.

I am sure right now you're thinking, "This blog could use some Sir Mix A Lot." And you would be right, so I found "Baby Got Back" compiled from different movies. You're Welcome.

Mama Said There'd Be Days Like This

Welp, we did it. Troy and I became parents. Zachary Troy was born at 3:33PM on May 30, 2013 and he shares a birthday with his Grandpa Paul who turned 60 that same day. I will be using this post to shamefully share pictures of our handsome little boy. This week, he had his three month birthday and I feel like I have learned so much since pre-parenting days and I thought I would bestow some of that wisdom onto you.

There are so many things that I thought I knew going into this whole child-rearing thing that turned out to be utterly wrong. When my mom came to stay with us to help Troy and me, we laughed about all the things I told my mom while I was pregnant. She said she would get off the phone after hearing how I was going to do things, and tell my dad about how I was just going to have to figure it out the hard way. What a nice mom for doing it that way and not laughing in my face! Seriously, she totally deserves a gold sticker for everything she did for Troy, Zachary and I while she was here. Which brings me to my first lesson learned:

1. I needed my mommy. Before Zachary was born, Troy and I decided that my mom would only come for a week. After all, babies are small. All they do is eat, poop and sleep. We can handle it. My mom thought that we would need her for two weeks, but we knew better. So we made the arrangements with my parents for my mom to stay with us for a week and that was the plan. As that week started to come to an end, my mom called my dad to figure out when he would come to pick her up and I started to get panic attacks. Finally in a fit of tears, I asked - nay, begged - Troy to allow my mom to stay another week, to which of course, he said yes. My mom was very gracious and glad to stay another week. There were still plenty of tears when we had to part though and I continued to call her with questions.

 

This sweet boy loved to sleep during the day, not the night.

2. The first night home is like pulling an all-nighter in college, but the test date never comes. When we were in the hospital, Troy and I took advantage of the nursery. Every three hours, the nurse would wheel in our beautiful baby to eat and then I would ring the call button and the nurse would bring the baby back to the nursery and I would sleep until the next feeding. When we got home, we spent our first night alone. Both of our parents were still in hotels for the weekend and Troy and I figured we could handle things for a night. WRONG. That sweet, adorable, little baby didn't want to have anything to do with sleeping while it was dark. He wanted to cry and fed and be held - all-night-long. We ignorantly thought he was blissfully sleeping while in the nursery at the hospital (HA! HA! HA!). We were such fools.

I am super embarrassed by this photo, but I post it for you.

3. I will still look 8 months pregnant when I leave the hospital. This one was a real downer folks. I spit out an 8 pound, 5 ounce baby, and because I was induced and pumped full of liquid, I was actually MORE swollen when I left the hospital than when I got there - which is saying a lot because my feet resembled that of Fat Bastard's from Austin Powers before I even delivered. I have included a picture just so you get the idea. I look at pictures of myself when we brought home Zachary and it's gross. Now some ladies, leave the hospital gracefully with a mild post-preggo-pooch, like Kate Middleton. Some ladies leave the hospital looking how they did in college, like my friend Krista (Krista, I am sure you'll protest, but you looked smokin' hot after giving birth and you should embrace it.) I however, was not in that small group . . . there was nothing small about me.

4. "Exhausted Mom" jokes have a new meaning and will suddenly become cruelly hilarious. I have never experienced true exhaustion before. Let me tell you, it turns you into a crazy person. Straight up, cra-cra. I would sit on the couch and be fine one minute and start bawling for no reason the next. A lot of that has to do with the insane hormones that are raging through your body and the fact that you just performed something short of a miracle - birth, but a lot of that comes from lack of sleep. I would wake up in the middle of the night for feedings and I would hate everyone I knew who was sleeping. My only friend was my sister who works the night shift at her dispatch job at the airport. When I would hear people without children say they are tired, I wanted to punch them in the face. Not figuratively either, but I would literally clench my fist and get a solid foot stance ready.

5. I will inevitably parent in such a way that makes me look like a monster to "someone" "somewhere." Every Thursday night I have a weekly Skype date with my dear friend Becca. Not only is she one of my closest friends, I consider her an emotional and spiritual mentor. She and I are very similar and so I often ask for her advice because most of the time, what she has done is a great option for me. When Zachary was two months old, he was still feeding and sleeping whenever he wanted to, which made scheduling anything impossible. I was Skyping with Becca then and just broke down in tears due to my #4 lesson. She basically gave me a prescription on what I should do to get Zachary on a sleeping schedule, which was very similar to Baby Wise. You know what, it worked like a charm and Zachary slept all night long! Of course, that first night Troy and I were half asleep all night, just waiting to hear an explosion of cries that never came. Baby Wise is controversial because for some parents, they believe that "crying it out" is cruel, but other parents (like myself and Troy) can see the benefits of babies learning how to soothe themselves back to sleep. Regardless of which camp you're in, you will always get flack from someone on the other side, which is unfortunate because let's be honest, if you're a parent, you need all the support you can get, so why can't we all just get along? :)

Reading Z his Baby Bible before bedtime.

6. I needed the Lord . . . more.  I would be leaving out a HUGE lesson if I didn't mention this. When Zachary was born, I became so much more aware of mortality, which is morbid, I know, but it's true. At every feeding I would pray that the Lord would watch over my sweet, little boy and that he would grow up to be happy and healthy, but more importantly, that he would grow up to love the Lord too. I would also pray for myself that I would have the strength to get through the day with my lack of sleep and that my husband would know how much I loved him even though I wasn't able to give him much attention. Some nights, Zachary and I would cry together, not knowing what was wrong with the other person and I would look to the Lord for comfort. Having a baby has proven to be the most challenging thing Troy and I have ever done and together, we have turned to prayer for guidance and support. It gave us peace that cannot be matched. Here are some of my favorite verses that I recited during this time:

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God." Philippians 4:6

"Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, "Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest."" Mark 6:31

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest in your souls." Matthew 11:28-29

7. My baby is obviously the cutest baby on the planet. When I first saw Zachary for the first time, I loved him immediately and thought he was so cute. Not in the all-babies-are-cute kind of way, but I thought Zachary was so cute that it was obvious to everyone who ever laid eyes on him. People would comment on his cuteness and I wouldn't even be gracious about it, I would just say, "I know!" My mom warned me about this. She said that after I had kids, I would wonder how I ever thought any one else kids were "the cutest." She was right. Zachary is the cutest and I am going to throw down the gauntlet and challenge anyone to show me a cuter baby. I will of course judge Zachary's cuteness with his competitor. I will probably be biased. You will probably lose.

Love this.

Love this, too.

 8. I love my husband more than I thought I could. Here's were it gets a little mushy, friends. I have known Troy forever and if you would have told Little High School Pammy Kohler that she was going to get to marry Troy Carlson, she probably would have done an awkward giggle and started sweating profusely but she definitely wouldn't have believed you. Troy is my very best friend and I am so blessed to be married to him, but after having our son, it has been even more fun to see him in his new role. When I was pregnant, he was very protective of me. I remember getting a lecture on the importance of being careful going up and down our rickety basement steps. After Zachary was born, he would have a glass of water ready for me at every feeding, do all kinds of housework and hug me when I was having a moment of the "baby blues." Since acts of service is my love language, I felt very loved. When I see him with Zachary, it just melts my heart. The other night he read Zachary his bedtime story, and I as I watched my favorite men snuggling close to each other, my eyes started to water. Every night, we take turns praying over Zachary and when it is his turn to pray, my heart gets a little warmer. Basically, what I am trying to say is that Troy was smokin' hot before he was a dad, now he is pretty much exuding a nuclear-like heat. Ow! Ow!

9. What to Expect When You're Expecting should not be used as a syllabus. I read that book like it was the childbirth Bible everyone claims it to be. Each milestone month during my pregnancy, I would bone up on how my baby was growing, what I can expect from my body and doctor's appointments and how to make my husband feel like he is more involved in the process. Then the last chapter was about what I can expect once the baby is born and what the first week will look like. Let me tell you . . . they left A LOT of stuff out. Like how the week after you give birth, you could be one of the lucky ones who is in so much pain that getting in and out of chairs makes tears spring from your eyes. Or how sometimes circumcisions don't "work" and your child will be one of the lucky ones who will have to have his REDONE when he is one. Or how that gross line that runs up your belly will take FOREVER to lose, along with your baby weight. Who am I kidding? When I am pregnant with baby #2, I will read it again.

10. I am still a neat freak, OCD and an A-type personality. This can be seen by the fact that I needed to have an even number of lessons learned in this blog and 10 seemed like a good number. When I was pregnant, people would always tell me that I would change when I became a mother and that I couldn't be as "rigid" as I was before. You could call these people the messy, B-Type personalities who don't understand me anyway. To a certain extent, this is true, however, I am still me and I still like schedules, plans and things in order. Look at it this way, if you were standing at a riverbank and wanted to change the flow of the river, all you would have to do would be to throw a pebble in the river. It would change the flow because where the pebble is now, water once was able to flow freely. The river is still flowing in the same direction, the pebble just made a slight change in the flow. That is how I feel about motherhood. Zachary is my sweet little pebble. He has changed some things, obviously, but the river doesn't suddenly start flowing in the reverse direction, and I haven't changed who I am at my core, which is a neat freak, who has OCD and an A-type personality, I'm just a mom now too.

Even though being a parent is the hardest thing I have ever done. It is the best. That little boy melts my heart multiple times a day, every day. I love how he has truly made us a family. I know there will be many more lessons to learn as we go.

City Slicker

When I was young, and even now, I loved to listen to my grandma's stories about what it was like for her growing up. Besides the decade and current events being much different, the geographic region was much different. I grew up in the south suburbs of Chicago. My grandma grew up and lived all over Missouri and she was a farm kid. I was always intrigued by the kind of chores she had and the animals she saw all the time. I had heard about cow tipping from the kids at school. Apparently, this is when you go out into a field, late at night when the cows are sleeping. Since they sleep standing up, all you have to do is push them over. This is apparently supposed to be great fun. I asked my grandma about it one day and when I did, she just laughed and called me a City Slicker. She must have seen the look of confusion on my face because then she asked me if I knew how much a cow weighed and that it would take quite a few people to tip over a cow and not only that, the cow would wake up once you touched her. I learned two things that day. The first being that you can't tip a cow, well without an army and without the cow knowing. The second thing I learned was that my grandma was right, I was a City Slicker.

I don't think being a City Slicker is necessarily a bad thing. I wear that title like a gold star. I don't want to kill my dinner before I prepare it. I don't want to have to wake up super early to milk cows and feed animals. The only time I get self conscious about it is when I am at a county fair - I swear those 4H kids are laughing at me. I think if I had to, I could maybe blend in with the country folks for a short amount of time anyway. (I can see Troy and my parents laughing at that line and completely disagreeing.) There would be one thing that would give me away though . . . my amusement of wild animals.

Yep, I am one of those people who gets excited to see a cardinal in the backyard. In fact, my whole family is that way. My parents used to take a certain road on the way to church to see if the resident ground hog was out. We would gawk at deer in a field. One time, my sister Rebecca and I saw a fox at a park and we followed it as it trotted down a bike path. Even Troy has been known to pause the TV to point out a woodpecker in the front lawn. But last week, I saw the mother of all wild animals - well, that can be seen outside of a zoo in the mid-west at least.

The stone archway on my route to school.

I was on my way to work and the neighborhood where my school is happens to be surrounded by woods. The drive through the town is charming. There is this adorable stone archway that only one car can pass through at a time. I actually love to drive to work; it is so relaxing. One morning, I was driving a little bit slower than usual. I had just gone under the stone archway when a WOLF darted from the woods, across the street. That's right, straight out of the Twilight books, Jacob flew across the road with pieces of his ripped denim shorts still in the tuffs of his fur. This City Slicker's mouth must have been gaping wide open; I have never seen a wild wolf before! The minute I parked my car at school, I excitedly texted Troy about what I saw and then went in the building to talk to another teacher about it. At this point I was second guessing myself. Maybe that is not what I saw, but she confirmed that there were wolves in those woods. The City Slicker in me was amazed. That night, Troy and I Googled pictures of wolves so I could show him what it looked like.

The wolf sighting made me think more about being a City Slicker. I am sure that country folks would have thought the wolf was at least mildly amusing, but I thought it was awesome! Maybe my 'burbs upbringing has made me appreciate wild life more. 

Just as long as I am seeing it from the inside of my car.

Nutella

This was take post-Nutella experience. Hence my smile.

The year was 2005. I was studying abroad in Europe for the month of January. Part of our grade was to plan a "free weekend" where we got to go anywhere in Europe for the weekend but we had to meet up with the rest of our group in Paris at a certain time. My friends and I decided to go to Rome. It was awesome. When we made our travel plans to get ourselves to Paris, we decided to take the Euro-rail and sleep on the train. We went to a market to buy some snacks and things to make sandwiches to munch on as we rode. We thought we'd make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches because we wouldn't need to refrigerate anything, but when we got to the market, we couldn't find any peanut butter. Our train was about to leave, so we grabbed a nutty protein that I had never heard of before and ran to our platform. Once we found a car that would fit all of us, we settled in and started the operation of putting together the sandwiches. The peanut-butter replacement was good. It was sweet and chocolatey. That was the day that my life was changed. That was the day I first tasted Nutella.

Nutella. I am certain that this delicious treat was found in the garden of Eden, among the fruit trees. Plastic jars of happiness hanging from branches just waiting to be plucked. I am pretty sure the rest of Genesis 2:17 went something like this in the original Hebrew "[the LORD commanded the man] not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, but that Nutella tree, whoo boy! you slap that stuff on everything else!" I think the second part was just lost in translation.

This looks like a good sized serving.

I have been a fan of Nutella ever since that train ride to Paris and can eat it any time of the day. For breakfast, I have whole grain toast with Nutella and a half a banana sliced on top. There have been times when I will spread Nutella on top of apple slices and then sprinkle them with coconut and sliced almonds for a desert. It is delicious in Swedish pancakes and crepes. I have even been known to just dip a spoon in the jar and lick it off . . . alright, so I usually forgo the spoon and use my finger, but I swear I only do that if the jar is almost empty (fine, half full) or I know we won't be having guests anytime soon.

Since being pregnant, my Nutella addiction has become much worse. And yes, I would call it and addiction since I think about it multiple times a day. I eat it all the time. Sometimes, Troy comes home from work and asks me how many toasts with Nutella I have had that day. Today I would answer two, since I had one  for breakfast and one for snack. I am really restraining myself because I would love to have another, but I know I will probably end up making one for a bedtime snack. I should really get a gold star for showing such self control. I am pretty sure Baby Carlson is made up of 50% Troy, 25% me and 25% Nutella. If he comes out smelling like chocolatey hazelnut goodness, I cannot promise that I won't lick his head.

The Nutella Mecca at CostCo.

The other night, I actually had a dream that we were out of Nutella. It was terrible. Troy was playing video games and told me that he would take me to the store to get more when he finished his game. I was so hungry that I had a hissy fit in the dream (which isn't the weird part) and so I ditched Troy and went to Kroger myself to get my Nutella for breakfast. Thankfully, I woke up and realized it was a dream. We had a whole jar of Nutella in the cabinet, just waiting for me to drive into! Troy and I went to Costco this weekend, and just to be on the safe side, we bought two packs, so I have four large containers of Nutella. Better to be safe than sorry.

My Brain Short-Curcuits

I would like to say that the problem I am about to disclose is pregnancy related, but unfortunately, this has been happening long before Baby Carlson was a thought. Alright, here we go. I am about to get real wit-cha-all.

Sometimes I have super random thoughts floating around in my head. I guess they aren't thoughts so much as names and/or phrases. Sometimes I don't even know what it means. I am not crazy; let me explain. 

Thibodeau coaching Rose - or whispering his name for me.

A couple of years ago I was vacuuming and I kept repeating "Tom Thibodeau" (the last name is pronounced "Ti-bi-dough.") I had no idea why this name kept going through my head, but it did. I didn't think about it until a couple of days later when I was doing another mundane task and it happened again. "Tom Thibodeau, Tom Thibodeau, Tom Thibodeau." One night, Troy was watching a Bulls game and I heard the name on the TV. I ran out to the family room and asked Troy who they were talking about and he repeated the name that had been running through my brain. I replied, mostly to myself yet still audible, that I didn't know he was a real person.  Troy looked at me weird and said, "He's the head coach of the Chicago Bulls."

Interesting. I figured that I must have heard that name millions of times and not thought anything of it. My brain must have just soaked up the name, stored it away and pulled it out at random times as though my brain was short-circuiting. Weird. I wish I could say this was the only time it happened.

Oh heaven help us. Nugent and Palin are apparently buds.

A few weeks ago, I was cleaning the bathroom and as I was scrubbing the tub, it happened again. This time, it was a different name. "Ted Nugent, Ted Nugent, Ted Nugent." I didn't recognize the name and asked Troy if he had heard of him. Apparently, he is a guitar player. When I Googled him, I realized that I knew his face. I went to his Wikipedia page and learned that he was born in Detroit so I am figuring that I must have heard of him when my sister was telling me all the famous people who came from Michigan. (She lives in Michigan with her hubs who was born and raised in the mitten state.) Side note: this is the same conversation I had with her where I was chastised after I foolishly announced that I never knew that Tim Allen was the voice of the Pure Michigan commercials. (I am allowing a pause here to let that sink in for any of you who did not yet know that tidbit about Mr. Allen so that you can audibly go, "Oh yeah!") In my defense, anyone who lives outside of the state of Michigan can't place that voice unless it is in distress due to a project gone awry or an insult directed at the one and only Al Borland. But I digress.

My brain has recalled other, random words to repeat, but they are so humdrum that I can't remember what they are. Obviously, names like Tom Thibodeau or Ted Nugent are a little harder to forget. Here's what I would like to know:

1. Why these men? I am not interesting in their hobbies/careers.
2. Why can't I repeat the names of men who are at least a little bit of eye-candy? Let's be honest, these men are not winning People's Hottest Man of the Year award.
3. Why do these names only come up when I am performing a trite task?
4. If I do something more exciting, will a more exciting name pop in my head? For example: should I decide to make a meat dress, will I repeat "Lady Gaga"?
5. Will the people in the white coats be knocking my my door tomorrow to take me away for writing this? Highly possible, yet not probable.


Like I said before, I am pretty sure that my brain is just on the fritz. Some of the hard-wiring just shorts out for a second or two and random information gets recalled. I guess I should be grateful that I only think of weird people's names and don't lose my gross motor functions. I only when I laugh to hard. Crisis averted. Let's just relax to one of Tim Allen's soothing Pure Michigan commercials.

MC Hammer Galoshes

Today, I had a little bit of a fashion faux pas. It was quite rainy this morning; however, for the past two days we have been enjoying temperatures in the mid to upper 60's, so a rainy day in January is pretty nice. As I looked out the window this morning, I thought I should probably wear my rain boots that I finally broke down and bought a couple of years ago. I really hate having wet feet, but then again, unless you're taking a shower, who doesn't? So, I put my cute, ballet flats in my purse and stuffed my toes into their waterproof protectors. 

Then, I thought about how I wouldn't want the bottoms of my dress pants to get all wet either, so I stuffed those into the boots as well. My dress pants didn't fit nicely in my boots, so when I stood up, I looked like MC Hammer in galoshes. I figured it was better than slopping around with wet feet, so I just went with it. When I got to school, I passed stylish mothers dropping their children off, wearing their skinny jeans or leggings tucked tightly into their Hunter boots, while I splashed through the puddles with my Hammer Time maternity pants shoved into my Target brand boots. Though I was dry, I thought that maybe I had made the wrong call this morning. I was only too happy to peel those boots off and replace them with my cute flats. 

As the day went on, I didn't think too much about my frumpy rain boots. I was glad to have dry feet and since the rain stopped in the afternoon, I didn't wear them home. I guess I am an adult for sure since I choose comfort over cuteness. I may have looked like MC Hammer, but at least my feet could say to the rain, 'can't touch this.' (Yeah, I just did that.)

Sewn Up Hugs

If you read my blog, you know I love me some pockets. And who wouldn't? They are conveniently and ergonomically located at a comfortable distance at your waist. You always have a place for your hands when you don't know what to do with them. You can store your small treasures such as chapstick. I mean, even the word "pocket" is nice. It's like a hug you wrap around your hands that happen to be located in your Levi's. You will never hear a woman complain, "Awe man! This dress has pockets! Dang it!" Ever put on a pair of pants without pockets? It's terrible. Your hands freak out for the whole day as they search for their tiny getaway. Oh, is that just me? NOPE, you do it too.

As I have been in the professional world for a few years now, I have donned many-a-dress pant. Have you noticed that some new dress pants have the pockets sewn shut? This irritates me to no end. How in the world will I know if my hands like their pockets? More importantly, why on earth would someone sew up a hug? It's just wrong. I was thinking about this recently due to a shopping trip with my mom.

For Christmas, my parents' gift to me was some new maternity clothes which was great because I really needed dress pants for work. My mom and I went out shopping and she helped me pick out a nice pair of dark grey, lined trousers - I love that word.  I was excited to have a pair of pants that didn't make me look frumpy at work. The first time I put them on to wear to work, the pockets were sewn shut. Grrrr. I was going to need those pockets ready for active duty - Hello! Chapstick? - so I got my trusty seam ripper from my sewing kit and opened those puppies up. When I went to slide my hands inside, the pockets only went as far as my knuckles!!! I still rock those bad boys, but every day that I wear those dress pants I stand a significant risk of losing my Burt's Bees Pomegranate chapstick. I guess, I like to live dangerously, but I seriously question the integrity of the person who designed such small pockets. I am sure this person is utterly unhappy in life. But I digress.

Here's what I don't understand, why even sew the pockets up in the first place? What a waste of thread. The only conclusion that I have come up with is that clothing companies know how amazing pockets are. So, they sew them up, almost like you would wrap a present to be opened on Christmas morning. When you rip open those seems, the clouds part and the angels from heaven shower you with their 'halleluiahs' as you slip your hands inside the pockets.

I did some Googling and found that companies sew pockets shut because it keeps the clothing looking its best in the store. Whatever. I think that's lame so I am going to go with the Christmas morning theory; plus it is much better than thinking that the clothing companies just want to make your mornings that much more difficult by adding another step to your grooming rituals. (Well, maybe the person who creates small pockets does; we know how unhappy that person is.)  

They just want you to open up your sewn up hug.

Pregnancy Brain

I know. It seems like I have abandoned you. I suppose to a certain extent, it is true. My last post was a million years ago; at least that is what it feels like. The truth is, the unthinkable has happened. The hubs and I decided to expand our family. First we got a dog, Bruce . . . . and then a few weeks later, we found out I was pregnant. I think our families and friends were shocked. After all, Troy and I were on the two year plan, which just so happened to get bumped back everyday. But, we were bound to procreate someday and five years later, that day has come. Baby Boy Carlson will make his debut the end of May.

Thus, part of the reason for my absence from the blog world. For the longest time, we were just trying to keep our huge secret. I was really worried we would end up spilling the beans. After all, Troy and I would talk about the baby all the time and then when we were around others, we had to pretend like nothing new was happening. We wanted to wait until I was in my second trimester and things were safe, but mostly we waited because my sister, Laura got married the beginning of November and we didn't want to share the news until after her big day. 

When we did share the news, the reactions were hilarious. We decided to tell our families by pretending to take a picture while the camera was on video. That way, we would always be able to see our family's reactions. Troy told the families to say "Pam's pregnant!" My family in particular was in a small state of denial.  They all put on their nice smiles and repeated his phrase without thinking about what they said! It was so funny! I have personally watched the video about 30 times and each time I still laugh so hard. The best is Laura's reaction when she goes after Troy for an excited hug while he is still filming. Here's the video. It is definitely worth the watch.

Anywho, it's been an easy pregnancy, in fact, my friend Becca called it a "ghost pregnancy" because I haven't really had any symptoms besides about three weeks of nausea and exhaustion. There is one symptom I have that I thought was an old wives tale - that is my Pregnancy Brain also called Momnesia. I thought this was a joke, until I started walking into a room to get something and by the time I got there, I had already forgotten what I needed. Or when I start to tell Troy a story about something that happened that day and I can't remember the rest of the story while I am in the middle of it. I also tend to blurt things out that are completely stupid. Thankfully, that happens mostly around Troy - albeit just about everyday - but there have been a few times when my Pregnancy Brain fly its freak flag for the world to see and the two stories below are the best ones so far.

The Phantom Phone Incident

One afternoon, I was talking on the phone with Laura while on my way home from work. I parked in the garage and started collecting all my things to bring inside, but once inside I realized I had forgotten to bring my phone into the house. The next few minutes are a product of my pregnancy brain, and I suppose I have to take responsibility for my actions; however, this in no way lowers the embarrassment level I encumbered that day.

"Oh, shoot! I think I left my phone in the car." I said.

"What?" Laura replied, confused.

"I think I must have left my phone in the car; it's not in the pocket of my purse where I usually keep it. I better go get it." I explained.

"Do you mean, you left the phone you are using to talk to me with in your car?" Laura said, slowly.

Here's the problem with this scenario is that it repeated itself the very next day. That's right folks. I called Laura again the next day on my way home from work, came into the house, and announced to her that I left my phone in the car . . . again. We had not yet shared our news, so I think Laura was concerned, and with good reason.

Catch Phrase Freak Out Incident

Troy and I were invited to a dinner at the home of one of his colleague's. Afterwards, we played a few games of Catch Phrase. If you haven't played this game, you have to get your team to say a particular word without saying it yourself. Teams can steal points if the buzzer goes off during their turn to guess. **Side Note: I am notoriously loud while playing this game and use large hand gestures. Troy often has to tell me to calm down and lower my voice. I will literally be shouting by the end of the game.

We decided to play girls against guys. The buzzer went off on the guys and us gals had a chance to make a guess as to what the word was and steal a point. My teammate said she thought the word might be "convict." I nodded as I mulled over the clues that the guys had given and knew that I had thought of the perfect answer. I shouted out, "CONVICT!" as though this was a new idea. I found that everyone at the table was laughing at me. "Christine just said that," Troy told me. Oh my word. I am sure my face turned so red. What on earth is wrong with me. I am pretty sure I heard her, but it was like those moments were completely wiped out of my brain.

To make matters worse, I realized as we were about to put our coats on, I had a price tag still attached to the new maternity shirt I was wearing. I had been rocking that tag all day. It was the icing on the cake. Thankfully our hosts thought my Pregnancy Brain was funny. I had warned them about it before we started the game. I think they thought I was just setting myself up to save face should my team lose. After that night, they saw that I have just completely lost my mind.

While I seem to have misplaced my brain for the time being, it does make for some entertaining moments in the Carlson household. So, I write this blog as a warning to all you who happen to be near a pregnant woman. Watch them closely, you may get to see them do something hilarious. Like put their cell phone in the fridge in exchange for a glass of water, and let it stay there all night long. (Yes, my friend actually did that.) 

Let's just be grateful I am not a surgeon. I only work with children. They are resilient.

Cottage Critters

The hubs and I are big fans of the comedian Jim Gaffigan. He came to Cincinnati last weekend and we went to see him. I was laughing so hard, my throat hurt. If you haven't heard him, you simply must. He is hilarious and his jokes are not raunchy or dirty. He does one bit about the outdoors and camping. He is against the whole idea of camping and says that if it is so nice, why are bugs always trying to get inside? It is funny because it's kind of true. 

Now, Troy has helped me realize that I do love to camp and be in the outdoors. I never went camping when I was a kid - (Jim Gaffigan would say that was because my parents loved me.) In fact, my parents were shocked when I told them I liked camping, since I am the girliest girl they have out of us three sisters, but it's true. The trick is to adapt to your surroundings. You have to know that when you wake up in the morning, you will either be scorching hot or freezing cold and there will be at least ten of those tiny bugs flying around the top of your tent who scornfully laughed at the "protection" of your netted windows as they shimmied through the teeny squares. There is a good chance your pillow will be damp and and smell like campfire embers. But you signed up for this. You know what to expect and there are other things about camping that make it great, like s'mores and good conversations with people you care about.

The other nice thing about camping is getting home, to your controlled environment where you can regulate the temperature, go to the bathroom without having to putting on shoes to walk a 1/2 mile to the john, and living in a place free of critters. Or so you think. Last night, you would have thought that coming to our house you were entering one of those creepy-crawly buildings at the zoo that you only go into when you're on a field trip and the kids beg you to go inside.  

I was going down to our creepy basement to get a load of laundry out of the dryer when I saw it. At first I thought one of the girls decided to leave a little gift on the basement floor instead of in their litter box, but then I realized that this poop had eyes and then saw that the poop was moving, thus I deduced that it wasn't poop after all. Genius moment. My initial reaction was first relief because then I didn't have to clean up poop, but then I was slightly panicked because now I needed to figure out what to do with this slimy creature who we learned via the internet was a slug. When I realized what it was, I had a minor freakout, which involved me calling Troy and begging him to remove it, but as he was looking for his flip flops, I came to my senses and realized, this slug was more disgusting than dangerous and the little slimeball was quickly scooped up with a piece of cardboard and flung outside. Of course, we were hopeful that our fearless felines would aide us in our slug removal venture, but all Molly did was poke the slug with her nose until he contracted into a chubby ball. After our unwelcome visitor made his necessary departure, I put on my detective hat and found his trail began at the drain in our basement. Eww. We chalked it up to this being an old house (it was built in the 40's) and old plumbing.

Once that excitement was over, we brushed our teeth and got ready for bed. I went upstairs and found Molly crouched down, looking at something on the carpet. When I got a better look, I didn't like what I saw. It had a hard shell plus six legs and was the size of a half dollar. This sum of this equation is never pleasant. Begin emotional meltdown - I mean, are you kidding me right now? I just got rid of slug that was the size of a fruit roll up and now this?! I ran downstairs to get a glass to cover him with. (It was literally the only solution I had at that point.) Then I hollered for Troy for the second time that night. This time, I wasn't going to be able to take care of it myself. Anything with legs that moves quickly gives me the sweats and the goosebumps all at the same time. Once again, Molly was zero help, as she was just pressing her nose to the upside down glass which where the entrapped beetle was scurrying around. My knight in shining armor - or the hubs in a Chicago Bulls warm up tee - trapped the beetle in the glass and flung him outside as well. 

As I was laying in bed, I was grateful that we are only renting this house and decided that my desire to live in a "historical home" was stupid. I also had a minor panic attack of what other creature will come crawling into our little cape cod cottage over the next two years. Then I thought back to Jim and his comment about if the outdoors are so great, why to the critters keep trying to get in? I decided to look on the positive side of things. After working all summer on this house, it is finally cute, cozy and (despite the critters mentioned) clean. Who wouldn't want to sneak in and freeload. The snail and the beetle probably saw Molly and Olivia laying around all day doing nothing and figured this was a good set up. So, thank you Snail and Beetle for your complements to my house, alas, you are not invited without adoption papers. Olivia and Molly are the only cottage critters we will be taking in, at least until the next furry animal steals our hearts.