I'm very angry about the Giants winning the Super Bowl because our front runner for our boy's name was Eli and now Alan is convinced that everyone here in Giants country will think we named a boy after Mr. Manning. So thanks, Eli Manning, for being too awesome.
Having a mini van is way more awesome than I'd anticipated. Because of our less-than-reliable Saturn, Alan and I would basically trade the Honda, meaning I didn't always have a car. Besides the freedom to not be home bound, though: OMG THE CARGO SPACE.
I threatened Alan with violence via cursing text the other day. Violence may not be the answer but threatened violence from a pregnant woman might get results. The problem? Our recycling is under the kitchen sink. And the cabinet is pain-in-the-ass baby-proofed. And apparently it's a lot to ask of Alan to put his Coke Zero cans under the sink. We had a standoff wherein I refused to do anything with them, so his one-a-day habit grew on the countertop until it looked like we could be on an episode of Hoarders. He finally took care of it when even he started thinking it was a bit ridiculous. We laughed about our stand-off and I was like "Alan, seriously" which, read between the lines: "Don't let that shit pile up again." So this happens:
Enough to drive a pregnant woman running on four hours of sleep to threaten violence, am I right or am I right?
I still haven't accomplished much in the baby's room because for now we still have to use it as a guest room. Also a dresser drawer came broken, so it's on order—pushed to end of March. And speaking of threatening violence, getting the crib was about the most ridiculous fiasco in the world. But third time is a charm. If I can find energy and time, I'll report.
Sweet. You can't see my double chin!Apparently around 33-ish weeks is when I start to become so large people are taken aback by my belly. Going out in public invites people to be either a) visibly appalled or b) start to obviously whisper about me or c) both. People, I'm pregnant, not blind and deaf. I can see you talking about me and sometimes hear you as well.
If your kiddo wakes up sounding like a seal barking: steamy bathroom for 10 minutes, outside in the cold for 10. Repeat if needed. Ahhh.
Toddlers are passionate when they have opinions. Also, irrational.
Ellen's Clumsy Thumbsy segment? Cracks me uppy! (Yep, that's totally an Averyism). We can't even count her words any more—we get exhausted when we hit like 50. We've got a talker on our hands. Some defy logic—uggies are glasses—but we know exactly what she means.
I had a dream that someone left a bunch of baby animals in our backyard and we had to get them to the proper authorities and get them taken care of. One bird's egg fell on the ground and cracked and we were so nervous, but even though it was early it was perfectly healthy. You don't exactly have to have a psych degree to figure out the meaning of that one.
