Levedy

Awkwardness with Strangers - my specialty

Sometimes I forget that strangers don’t know that I’m being sarcastic.

Yesterday, I spent the afternoon racing after Bean at a nearby park. Once she goes, man, she goes. I started chatting up a mother and father who were there with their daughter who was roughly the same age as Bean. They told me that they, too, were first time parents, and what an adjustment it was, lifestyle-wise.

I replied with my standard “Yeah. Up until now, all I had was a cat. It’s a bit different. I keep trying to teach Sophie to poop in a sandbox, but so far, no success.”

Silence.

Yeeahhh. I was kidding, people.

The conversation moved on to how nice it is to get outside to a park, rather than be shut up in the house watching Baby Einstein DVDs. I agreed, and said “Yeah. I can only watch those things so many times before I start hearing voices.”

Silence. Feet shuffling, throat clearing.

Yarrrrggh! KIDDING, PEOPLE. Seriously.

Why I'm Nervous About Having a Boy

-I'm unclear as to what a pollywog is
-I'm ignorant of most of the rules of baseball, football, soccer, and, hell, badminton
-I throw like a girl
-My husband throws like a girl
-I haven't the first clue how to play GI Joe
-I don't want anything called a "Megazord" in my house
-Power Rangers make me throw up in my mouth a little
-I'm very unsure about proper little boy hygeine
-I don't care to learn to fish
-I am markedly unenthusiastic about finding worms and other bugs in my son's pockets while standing in front of the washer

But, on the other hand, I am still nervous about these things with Bean:
-I had better make peace with Barbie, because those little Bratz whores aren't stepping one plastic foot into this house.
-My ability to compete against the Disney Princess brand
-Are you really supposed to stick your pinky out at a tea party? And seriously, would Miss Manners approve of wearing a tiara before sunset?
-If she plays soccer, does that make me a soccer mom by default?
-Junior high queen bees, and what to do if she is one
-When she turns twelve and EVIL
-When she turns twelve and I move to Mexico
-Oh my God, what if she becomes a CHEERLEADER? Fuuuuuuck.
-Dating (oh, ack.)

This parenting thing isn't for wimps.

Fleece Jammies

Bean's room is situated directly above the garage - a position which affords her the unfortunate ownership of the hottest room in summer and the coldest room in winter. While Dim and I can still enjoy that last of summer, we-can-sleep-in-our-birthday-suits joy (sorry you had to read that, Dad) - Bean can enjoy (or be creeped out by) no such pleasure.

I shipped out to the Carter's outlet today to buy fleece jammies for her. I found her some zip-up footie jammies and THESE (click) awesome two-piece fleece jammies. Seriously, if you don't think that these are cute, then you might as well go back to baking your toddler-pot-pie, because you clearly have no soul to speak of:

Oh, and I checked out the little boy jammies - SUCKED. Seriously. Camo? Football? Baseball? Come on. Show me some bulldozer- or T-Rex action.

At the Ultrasound

Me: You're really sure it's a boy?

Doctor: Jen, I've seen it 16 times already. At this point, something would have to fall off in order for me to change my mind.

Dim still hasn't stopped grinning.

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Wangdoodle

From the files of Amusing Only to Me:

Her versus Our
Me: I think I’m going to throw out this saucepan. It’s getting a little worn out.
Him: Where’d we get it from?
Me: My Nana gave it to me. It’s from her wedding.
Him: That’s not old! What could possibly be wrong with it?
Me: Honey, she was married in, like, ’46!
Him: Oh, I thought you meant she gave it to us for our wedding.

Sometimes, yes
Me: What does a kitty say?
Her: MEOW!
Me: Good, sweetie. What does a fish say?
Her: BLUB BLUB!
Me: Good. What does a tiger say?
Her: ROOOOWWWWWRRR!
Me: Good. What does Mama say?
Her: WOOF WOOF!

Weekend

Spent the weekend manning the Souvlaki booth at our church’s yearly Greek Food Festival. I still smell like steak and chicken. Dimitri is strangely aroused.

Bean has been in a funk lately. Just like the nursery rhyme: When she is good, she is very, very good/ but when she is bad she is horrid.

Two years old, here we come.

Nicole: I’m TOTALLY not ignoring you. Yes, I changed my cell phone. I’ll call you this week to arrange delivery. And gab, of course.