OK, so if you know anything about me, you know that one of my greatest pet peeves is stupid people. I have always said that stupid people just make me mad. The stupid things that stupid people do make me mad. So, can you tell that said stupid person has just really ... yeah.. you know.
My girlfriend Neena, used to have a sign on her desk that said "refuse to be stupid". I loved that sign. It reminded me every day that I have a choice as to whether or not to be stupid at any given time.
So, clearly my hormones are working overtime today, because I know that what has aggravated me really is not that big of a deal. I value my time. I like to think that I use my time wisely and when something is set in place on a regular basis- in a company calendar, then tell me why that should suddenly, one day, be disregarded? It just so happened that I had a scheduled appointment during my scheduled lunch hour, and someone that I work with (we can't both be gone at the same time) just up and decided they'd be going to lunch at that time. Period. Point closed. Without any consideration that the sudden change in the norm might actually affect someone. Hmph. See. I can read this and know that it's not a big deal. I think what really rubbed me the wrong way is that the person just doesn't care. Suddenly I'm the meanie for thinking that there's a problem with it in the first place and asking that in the future, she tell me if she'd like to change my plans for me.
ahhh.... somehow all of this hateful writing isn't helping me any. I smiled and said to keep her plans, that I would change mine, so now, I'm not only a hormonal pregnant woman, but I'm also a hungry woman.
And everyone knows not to mess with a hungry pregnant woman.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Thursday, February 21, 2008
'Belle or Izzy. Izzy or 'Belle
It just occurred to me that I started a list of things that have been going on in my life lately and never made it past the first item. Leave it to me to ramble so much that I never actually get to the point. (See, here I go again.)
OK, so, point 2. I'm pregnant. Of course, most of you who are reading this already know that. I'm in my 7th week and still haven't been for an ultrasound. With Jake, I had them as early as 4 weeks, so not having had one yet is driving me up a wall. All in good time. I've been so, so fortunate that I'm having very few symptoms. I'm not nauseous at all. I'm moderately tired. I am already starting to round in the middle. ( I like to say that my two rolls are just connecting.) I don't mind that so much, except that I've been working so hard over the last few months to try and lose weight that I suddenly feel like I'm the walking marshmallow man from the GhostBuster's movie. I'm hoping that good old Mother Nature decides she's had enough of winter, because my pants are about ready to pop at the waist, so I, being the tight-wad that I am, really don't want to have to buy winter pants just in time for summer to come around.
Oh. and then there are my boobs. (Believe me. I tried 15 different ways to write that without actually coming out and saying it, but there really is no way to say that without just spitting it out.) So- Boobs. Yes, they definitely know that I'm pregnant. If I'd listened to them, they'd have known a month ago. Unfortunately, because I have had a child previously, they know it about 10 inches lower than where they knew it last time. Really!! Oh well... Ahh... to be a mommy.
Now, to the title of the blog. As those who know me already know, we have one son. While I would be delighted with any happy, healthy child, I would love to have a little girl. If we do have a girl, we'd like to name her Isabella Grace. (I wanted Isabella Rose but hubby thinks that sounds too old.) I think my husband is leaning toward Frank Robert if it's a boy. Or James Robert, but I'm not sure. We are going to find out, but are not going to let anyone else know until the baby is born. Fun for us. And I figure it will be fun for you too, trying to bribe it out of me with promises of Mellow Mushroom Pizza (bacon w/xtra-cheese), Chocolate covered cherries and fresh, cold cantaloupe on a bed of cottage cheese. (Now that's not a hint as to my favorite things, with which one might be able to find out the gender of our child, merely a what-if list of things I happen to like!) Hehe.
Really, we're excited about this and can't wait for Jacob to have the opportunity to show what a wonderful brother he'll be. We haven't told him yet- that will be in a week or so after the ultrasound that the assurance that everything's OK so far, but I'll keep you posted!!
In the mean time, do tell. Would you call a child named Isabella "Belle" or "Izzy"?
OK, so, point 2. I'm pregnant. Of course, most of you who are reading this already know that. I'm in my 7th week and still haven't been for an ultrasound. With Jake, I had them as early as 4 weeks, so not having had one yet is driving me up a wall. All in good time. I've been so, so fortunate that I'm having very few symptoms. I'm not nauseous at all. I'm moderately tired. I am already starting to round in the middle. ( I like to say that my two rolls are just connecting.) I don't mind that so much, except that I've been working so hard over the last few months to try and lose weight that I suddenly feel like I'm the walking marshmallow man from the GhostBuster's movie. I'm hoping that good old Mother Nature decides she's had enough of winter, because my pants are about ready to pop at the waist, so I, being the tight-wad that I am, really don't want to have to buy winter pants just in time for summer to come around.
Oh. and then there are my boobs. (Believe me. I tried 15 different ways to write that without actually coming out and saying it, but there really is no way to say that without just spitting it out.) So- Boobs. Yes, they definitely know that I'm pregnant. If I'd listened to them, they'd have known a month ago. Unfortunately, because I have had a child previously, they know it about 10 inches lower than where they knew it last time. Really!! Oh well... Ahh... to be a mommy.
Now, to the title of the blog. As those who know me already know, we have one son. While I would be delighted with any happy, healthy child, I would love to have a little girl. If we do have a girl, we'd like to name her Isabella Grace. (I wanted Isabella Rose but hubby thinks that sounds too old.) I think my husband is leaning toward Frank Robert if it's a boy. Or James Robert, but I'm not sure. We are going to find out, but are not going to let anyone else know until the baby is born. Fun for us. And I figure it will be fun for you too, trying to bribe it out of me with promises of Mellow Mushroom Pizza (bacon w/xtra-cheese), Chocolate covered cherries and fresh, cold cantaloupe on a bed of cottage cheese. (Now that's not a hint as to my favorite things, with which one might be able to find out the gender of our child, merely a what-if list of things I happen to like!) Hehe.
Really, we're excited about this and can't wait for Jacob to have the opportunity to show what a wonderful brother he'll be. We haven't told him yet- that will be in a week or so after the ultrasound that the assurance that everything's OK so far, but I'll keep you posted!!
In the mean time, do tell. Would you call a child named Isabella "Belle" or "Izzy"?
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Scolding from JS
So I opened my email account yesterday to find a gentle but stern reminder from JS that while she enjoys reading about Walker and the sewer fog, it's time to move on. OK, OK, I get it. I'm really, really, really bad at keeping up with my blog. But so much has been going on. HM. Where to start.
OK, first and perhaps most important- my baby (he'll always be my baby) turned 5 years old this weekend. I think I'm in denial. This past week, I turned in an application for him to attend a private school this coming year. It's funny. My child has depended on us, his parents, since the day he was born, to live- to stay alive. And while this has seemed like a somewhat monumental responsibility, it is one that I have managed to comfortably endure. I mean, it really doesn't make me too uncomfortable. But handing over an application to someone I don't know, thinking that what I wrote or didn't write might make the difference.. ugh. Well, let's just say I was holding my breath. And then, as if that weren't enough, the very pleasant lady behind the calendar advised me that the next step was to schedule a time for my child to meet with the principal. Now mind you, this is quite a popular school and I am amazed and pleased that the principal meets with each and every child that applies to go there. Jacob will surely impress her with his mind. I was smiling at the thought of it. That was until she said that we would also need to schedule a time for me and my husband to come in for our interview too. WHAT? Oh my. That's it. My kid doesn't stand a chance now.
Seriously. We're talking about the principal of a private christian school interviewing me. ME. The one who told her niece "you know. Mary. Jesus' wife." Yeash. I said it. In a moment of absolute and utter stupidity I said it. Yes. I know that Mary is not Jesus' wife. Thank God I didn't say it to Jacob, or I'm sure he'd educate her on that experience.
As you can probably tell just by reading this, I'm not coping with the idea of making it or breaking it for my kid. Someone keeps telling me though, that it's all in God's plan and that if that's where Jake's meant to be then it's where he'll be. I believe that too, I do. But I also believe that it still won't stop me from making a complete fool of myself in front of this lady.
Oh well. I'll smile pretty and make nice, hope that my husband doesn't tell the poor woman that he's really a Catholic, and just pray that Jake will save us all!
OK, first and perhaps most important- my baby (he'll always be my baby) turned 5 years old this weekend. I think I'm in denial. This past week, I turned in an application for him to attend a private school this coming year. It's funny. My child has depended on us, his parents, since the day he was born, to live- to stay alive. And while this has seemed like a somewhat monumental responsibility, it is one that I have managed to comfortably endure. I mean, it really doesn't make me too uncomfortable. But handing over an application to someone I don't know, thinking that what I wrote or didn't write might make the difference.. ugh. Well, let's just say I was holding my breath. And then, as if that weren't enough, the very pleasant lady behind the calendar advised me that the next step was to schedule a time for my child to meet with the principal. Now mind you, this is quite a popular school and I am amazed and pleased that the principal meets with each and every child that applies to go there. Jacob will surely impress her with his mind. I was smiling at the thought of it. That was until she said that we would also need to schedule a time for me and my husband to come in for our interview too. WHAT? Oh my. That's it. My kid doesn't stand a chance now.
Seriously. We're talking about the principal of a private christian school interviewing me. ME. The one who told her niece "you know. Mary. Jesus' wife." Yeash. I said it. In a moment of absolute and utter stupidity I said it. Yes. I know that Mary is not Jesus' wife. Thank God I didn't say it to Jacob, or I'm sure he'd educate her on that experience.
As you can probably tell just by reading this, I'm not coping with the idea of making it or breaking it for my kid. Someone keeps telling me though, that it's all in God's plan and that if that's where Jake's meant to be then it's where he'll be. I believe that too, I do. But I also believe that it still won't stop me from making a complete fool of myself in front of this lady.
Oh well. I'll smile pretty and make nice, hope that my husband doesn't tell the poor woman that he's really a Catholic, and just pray that Jake will save us all!
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