Tuesday, February 19, 2008

my first mention of nausea this pregnanacy! score!

me: I bet you ten dollars the first thing I do tomorrow morning is throw up.

him: I'll take that bet. because the first thing you'll do tomorrow morning is wake up.

me: I meant the first thing I do after I wake up. I felt that was implied.

him: well, the first thing you'll do after you wake up is get out of bed.

me: ...

him: and then, you'll walk to the bathroom.

me: ...

him: you owe me ten dollars.


him: ... I just realized I sound like you.

me: yes. and I just realized I'm annoying.

Saturday, February 16, 2008

Happy Valentine's Day, 2 Days Late

me: Happy Valentine's Day, Christofer. Even if it is one day late
him: don't worry; Valentine's isn't really a day--it's a special feeling in our hearts.
me: um, actually, it is a day. On the calendar. February 14.
him: well, fine.
me: St. Valentine's Day, officially designated on that specific day by the catholic church.
him: I was kidding. I get it.
me: I think Valentine was burned at the stake or something, and you can't just go throwing away his rememberance day with words about it being a "feeling" in our "hearts."
him: fine.
me: unless that feeling is the fiery hot agony of being burned alive.
him: I'm not talking to you anymore.

ahhh, Valentine's Day. such a special time. especially around here, where romance is always in the air.

This year for Valentine's, Chris had to work late, so I (romantic fool that I am) took the kids to Wendy's, went to bed around 10, and was sound asleep by the time he finally got home.

so we decided to celebrate on Friday, which we did: the kids went to bed early, I made our traditional fondue dinner, and we ate and talked and watched movies.

(and put Michael back to bed about six hundred times. He kept coming out because he "hurt his nose." or his finger. or his tummy. He couldn't really decide, but ooooh, it hurrrrrrrrrt)

afterwards we came up to bed, turned out the light, and proceeded to have an annoying-song-off : much like a dance-off, but instead it's about who can get the most annoying song stuck in the other person's head.

(in case you're interested: I started strong, with an opening salvo of "why do birds/suddenly appear/everytime/you are near?" but Christofer nearly had me later with a quick "he's leaving/ on that midnight train to Georgia" parry. not normally an annoying song, except it had been the bane of my existence for days. Unfortunately for him, I had been building my tolerance to herculean levels by listening to that song incessantly all week, and I think it's safe to say I pulled out a victory with the massively unpopular "I love mommy/she loves me/ we love daddy/yessiree" refrain.)

and so we both went to sleep singing.

all in all, a perfectly lovely valentine's.

one day late.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

things I wish I'd known

well, it's that time of year again, that special time, when we get talk about how much we love ... me! yes! ME! it's almost my birthday! a day to celebrate! in, like, two weeks! so, to honor that day, and the many years of my life I have already lived, I'd like to send some letters back in time, to myself on past birthdays.
because the internet is full of magic and can time travel.
I hear.

dear 3-year-old self,

aww. you're mostly cute, even though you're kind of spoiled and obsessed with princesses. and, yes, it is a total bummer that Dave and Kat want to play with each other and not you, I'm sure that's very difficult; but you should know even when they stop playing with each other, they still won't want to play with you. Give it up now. but, you look like Michael! or, Michael looks like you! good one! How great is that!


dear 8-year-old-self,

you can't help the fact that you're at kind of an annoying age, but you could be a little less whiny. Also, be nice to your friends. Also, don't ever perm your hair again. also, please stop being in love with Grant, I swear, by highschool you'll feel really stupid about this.


dear thirteen-year-old self,
you are the reason I hope this baby is a boy.
shut up,

dear fifteen-year-old self,
listening to Tori Amos and Violent Femmes and writing their lyrics in your notebook is not going to make you deep, nor is it going to make you look deep, nor is it going to make Gabe fall in love with you and write you the very deep (and angsty!and passionate!) notes that you suspect he is capable of. Also, go to school.

dear seventeen-year-old-self,
eh. you're not so bad, although you do sometimes think you're cooler than you are, and sometimes you're downright strange. but you're also pretty likeable, and at least you can laugh about it, THANK HEAVEN your sense of humour is finally back. I thought teenage us would never end.

dear 19-year-old-self,

dear 20-and-21-year-old-selves,

same for you.

although, you have very nice hair. appreciate that.
and stop wasting time! pick a major!

dear 22-year-old-self,

what is the matter with you? Give Christofer a break.
and graduate already.
and what did I say about perming your hair! gah!

dear 23-year-old-self,

I cannot believe you were smart enough to marry Christofer. I'm serious. Considering the idiocy of the past four years alone, I cannot believe you were smart enough to do this.
I'm stunned.
way to go,

dear 24-year-old-self,

this was a good year for you. you were very delightful. although, just some mild advice, you really should keep up with your writing contacts. you won't, but you should.
i like you,

dear 25-year-old-self,
what can I say? things started out perfectly, then ... you were mostly pregnant. and cranky.
but I understand.
sorry about that,

dear 26-year-old-self,
well, we had some laughs, and you shouldn't let you're whole year be colored by the tail end. that is foolishness! Think of the good times! so, goodbye 26, it's been swell.

dear 27-year-old-self,

okay, so you're going to be pregnant.
and sick.
and fat.
and cranky.
and did I mention sick?
but, so what, right? I mean, you'll still have lots to enjoy. You're kids are really fun, and you won't be sick forever, chances are at some point you'll be able to enjoy them again. and you'll go on trips. and take pictures. and write stuff.
and that's fun.
so let's move on and have a good year, okay? okay.
looking forward to seeing you (especially if there's cheesecake),

Tuesday, February 12, 2008


I wanted these pictures bigger, but I still can't figure out how to resize for the web. anyone?

Monday, February 11, 2008

some advice

if you're a crazy person, and you're also a pregnant person, and if that means that you're a really crazy pregnant person, I think the best thing you can do for yourself and your husband is to not watch the movie "Sophie's Choice."*

friends, I have never been more serious.

*also, if you're pregnant, don't even watch the clip. and also don't watch the clip if you ever intend to see "Sophie's Choice." and also don't watch the clip if you're a person with feelings who hates to cry.