PLEEEASE, Mommy?

It was one of THOSE mornings…

One of those mornings when I overslept and I’m already running late and everything is going wrong and I keep forgetting things and the Energizer Bunny is doing everything he can to slow down the process and then it happens.

He declares he wants me to stay home. “Alllllll day, forever and ever and ever.”

And I knew, with absolute certainty, that I’d just gone from being really late to might as well have called in sick ‘cause you didn’t have any time to get any work done anyway late.

Commence Energizer Bunny crying. And what kind of a mother would I be if I left the Energizer Bunny crying for his Mommy? And what kind of a wife would I be if I simply left it for the Unsupportive Louse to deal with? And so, of course, like all good mothers and wives would do, I stayed.

Half and hour later, the Energizer Bunny was physically holding me down (I’m sure I could have thrown him off, but this takes us back to the “what kind of a mother would I be if…” question and really, this isn’t a question I want to have to ask myself more than once in a day), all while holding my bike helmet hostage to be certain I won’t be able to leave, even if I do attempt a violent escape.

Having tried everything else, I put on my sternest grown-up voice and say, “Bunny, I AM going to work RIGHT NOW, so you need to let me up and give me a kiss goodbye.” I can’t be ALL mean, geez. And I get up. And he seems to be okay with this. And then he runs off with my helmet. Dammit.

So I track him down and try to convince him it’s really a better idea for me to have my own helmet than his tiny yellow frog-speckled helmet, as, after all, it doesn’t fit me.

And then I did it. I am ashamed to say… I used a tactic my mother would have used. I tried to guilt him. I’m hanging my head. It was a last ditch effort, the only thing left that I hadn’t tried. But you’re right, it was terrible none-the-less. But never fear, in the end, I got what I deserved.

You see, my father used to ride his bike to work, and my father (who wore a helmet every time he rode) was hit by a truck and was killed. On his bike. On his way to work. It’s a terrible story. But the little, sweet, innocent, conniving, manipulative Energizer Bunny who is holding my helmet hostage has heard it before. So I simply reminded him that sometimes, only sometimes, people driving aren’t careful, or if a biker isn’t wearing their helmet – a helmet that fits them well- maybe, just maybe, something terrible could happen. Say…that person could die. So please, pretty please, may I have my helmet to wear to bike today?

The Energizer Bunny screams “NOOOO! I WANT you to DIE!” I told you I got what I deserved.

I closed my eyes to control the milieu of emotions coursing through my head and simply said, “Sweetie, that’s a terrible thing to say.”

He screws up his face in concentration and then, as he’s been so well taught, asks in a calm and rational voice, “Please, Mommy, can I take your helmet so you can die?”

Mexican Mishap #4 - Goggles? Weed?

Ever since last summer when the Energizer Bunny watched the Male Pill swim out into the ocean with his goggles on, he has been obsessed with goggles. (An obvious obsession, really.) And every visit, he asks the Male Pill where his goggles are.

So for this vacation, the Male Pill visited one of his favorite (read: dollar) stores and purchased a pair of goggles for the Energizer Bunny.

Upon arriving in Mexico, the Male Pill related this information to us and brought us to their room, opened the closet in which the goggles were stashed...and out poured the very strong, very clear scent of good ol' marajuana.

The Unsupportive Louse and I crinkled our noses and gave each other funny looks, but waited until we'd left the room to comment, as it seemed the Pills were completely unaffected by the overwhelming smell.

Perhaps, we surmised, the previous tenants of the room had hidden their stash in that closet and the stench simply carried over. Perhaps. But it was awfully strong. It would be HILARIOUS to me if my in-laws had taken up the habit of smoking weed. HILARIOUS. So funny I wish I could say I thought it was true.

(In an aside here, I'd like to add that the goggles were too big for the Energizer Bunny otherwise, this story may have had a very different ending, most likely including Custom officials and drug dogs and jail time...)

But we brought those goggles back to our room, tossed them on the table and headed out for lunch. And when we came back? The ENTIRE condo-type "room" (kitchen, dining room, living room, bedroom, two full bathrooms...) the ENTIRE thing smelled of maryjane. As if the maids had come in and had a full-blown, no holds barred joint smoking party while we were gone, then cleaned up after themselves (as all good maids would), and continued on cleaning other rooms, red-eyed and giggly.

Picking up the goggles by the strap, I held them to my nose. And made what I can only imagine was the most attractive face I made all week. Even in light of the back-flipping beach gymnasts. The damn things SMELLED.

So we decided to put them out on the porch overnight, let them air out a bit. Nothing a little ocean air and hurricane force winds can't fix.

Wrong. TWO days and nights later, those damn 99cent goggles still smelled like they'd been smuggled into the country amongst and entire shipment of cannabis.

So we thought maybe we'd soak them in some hot, soapy water. We put them in the sink, with hot as can be water slowly draining and constantly replenishing with fresh hot water, an entire bottle of the hotel shampoo crap poured in...for 6 hours (environmentalists be damned!) and they STILL smelled like a drug bust waiting to happen.

Run them through the dishwasher? Take them in the pool with the chlorine? In ocean's salt water?

Nope, nope, nope.

We left the damn things on the porch. Hope some maid's kid gets a nice high off of them.

Mexican Mishap #3 - Beach Acrobatics

Energizer Bunny, the Unsupportive Louse and I are busily making a fortress of sand castles when construction on my left abruptly stops. I scan the beach to see the cause of the delay (while the Energizer Bunny takes this interruption in supervision to destroy the entire aforementioned fortress.) My eyes flow past dark tans on toned bodies, string bikinis, silicon boobs - these things are just too commonplace in our beautiful resort town for even the Unsupportive Louse to stop filling a sand bucket.

And then I see them. Three extremely athletic, extremely shapely, extremely beautiful, extremely tanned, extremely young, extremely blond women. In bikinis. On the ocean's wave line. Doing back-flips. No joke. Back flips.

The Unsupportive Louse begins, "If they can do the splits..."

I quickly admonish him - "You have a CHILD on the way, don't even finish that THOUGHT." (as if it would make a difference)

He simply smiles the smile of the Cheshire cat. "If they can do the splits, I might have several children on the way."

Mexican Mishap #2 - Repeat Performance

I loved our Mexican vacation, but we DID spend a week with the Pills...and I can't spend an entire week with my in-laws without complaining about *something.*

Saturday -

Female Pill- "So is Somewhat Unreliable Highschool Friend really coming to visit?" (aimed at either the Unsupportive Louse or I)

Me - some extended version of "Yup, he really is." while it is the Unsupportive Louse's high school friend and not mine that is coming to visit, really, he doesn't know much about his own life any more, it's best I just head things off at the pass and answer for him.

Female Pill, expressing mild disbelief - "Did he already buy tickets and everything?"

Me - some extended version of "Sure did."

Tuesday -

Female Pill- "So is Somewhat Unreliable Highschool Friend really coming to visit?" (aimed at either the Unsupportive Louse or I)

Me - slightly abridged version of "Yup, he really is."

Female Pill, expressing mild disbelief - "Did he already buy tickets and everything?"

Me - slightly abridged version of "Sure did."

Wednesday

Female Pill- "So is Somewhat Unreliable Highschool Friend really coming to visit?" (aimed at either the Unsupportive Louse or I)

Me - pretending to help the Energizer Bunny so my massive eye roll is not quite so obvious, thus leaving the Unsupportive Louse (who HAS BEEN PRESENT for BOTH other conversations, I will remind you) to answer the question

Unsupportive Louse - "Uh, yeah, I think so."

Female Pill, expressing mild disbelief - "Did he already buy tickets and everything?" I AM NOT kidding you that the words were EXACTLY the same. EXACTLY.

Unsupportive Louse - "Um. I don't know, I think so. Do you know, babe?"

The apple truly does not fall far from the tree, does it?

Mexican Mishap #1 - The Best Laid Plans

If you know me at all, you know I'm slightly (ever so very slightly) OCD. I tend to plan my life...my ENTIRE life, down to teeny-tiny minute details, years ahead of time. And write it down so I won't forget. Of course, I must admit, the minute details do not *always* work out quite the way they were planned...but I continue to plan them all the same.

So of course I planned for our 2010 beach vacation while planning for our future child beginning approximately two years ago...I mean really, who wouldn't? We knew (read: I knew I could convince the Unsupportive Louse to agree with me) that we wanted our children to be about 3 years apart. And after considering beach vacation time frame, I decided to start systematically raping the Unsupportive Louse... I mean we decided to start "trying" in October - giving myself a month or two for conception, this brought me to about 6 months pregnant for vacation time.

While this may not be the most comfortable time in the world to travel, there are more important things in life than travelling folks. And besides, it's not as bad as 7 or 8 months, I'd survive. But most importantly, a 6-month pregnant woman looks pregnant. Looking obviously pregnant garners a woman sympathy and favors completely unrequested. Because everyone knows she is pregnant. And everyone feels bad that she has to be pregnant on vacation. On the beach. Or for the poor dude she's with. But whatever, as long as I'm the one that gets the goods, they can feel as bad for him as they want.

Now, a THREE-month pregnant woman, who has gained only 5 lbs (but, in my completely impersonal opinion, looks significantly larger than just 5 extra pounds) really just looks decidedly pudgy and a bit jiggly... just a bit fat. No matter what swimsuits said pregnant woman might have bought to try to cover up the flab while accentuating the PREGNANT look of the belly.

And sure, YOU say it's all fine and good that a 3-month pregnant woman looks a little flabby. Because, after all, YOU'RE not the one who is 3-months pregnant and on the beach. In a swimsuit. In a resort surrounded by liposections and tummy tucks and silicon breasts and fake-bake tans and paid-for-perfection.

Those damn emaciated, tanned, toned, implanted bathing beauties? They can't tell a blubbery chick not really worthy of their attention anyway is pregnant. They just think she's a blubbery chick not really worthy of their attention anyway. Damn sluts.

The Guilt Returns

That's right, my mother is back in town. She was off galavanting across the world as if she's retired (she is) for three weeks. And it was a calm, pleasant, peaceful three weeks.

We told her the day before she left that I was pregnant.

We didn't talk to her at all while she was gone. (She was in Europe, this has nothig to do with me not missing her guilt trips.)

As soon as she returned, she came over to see the Energizer Bunny. She played baseball with the Energizer, she showed us her pictures from her trip, she ate dinner with us. She talked non-stop.

She did not once ask me how I'd been feeling. She did not once ask us how doctor's appointments went or how the Princess took it, or how the mooch took it (after all, he might get even less attention from us if we have another one!), or how the Energizer Bunny was handling it - he was the first to know - or how my boss took the news. Nothing.

Though she did bring home a pair of slippers, sized 12 months, one can only assume are for a new baby as they wouldn't have fit the Energizer Bunny for the past two years.

Still, as she's about to leave, I think to myself, that wasn't SO bad. She may still be slightly self-centered, but at least there was none of that other standard Walking Guilt Trip stuff. Maybe I'm just too hard on her.

And then as she's walking out the door, she gives me a guilt trip. See, we're leaving for vacation just three days after she returns. And going on vacation with the OTHER set of grandparents. What TERRIBLE people we are.

Does it make me an even worse person if I say I don't think I'll miss her while we're gone?

My Biggest Pregnancy Fear

The one thing that TERRIFIED me about this whole getting pregnant thing (besides the gaining of 3 billion pounds, the possibility of permanent stretch marks, the mutilage of my girly parts, the weight of bringing another life onto our overcrowded and dying earth and then of sending that new little life straight into therapy...) was telling my boss.

Don't get me wrong, my boss is kind, understanding, friendly, family-oriented - any good word or phrase you can think of to describe a boss, probably describes mine. (Even "seldom there!")

But I was still terrfied.

So I made the Unsupportive Louse come with me. Because this time if my boss threatened to fire me if I didn't come back after 6 weeks maternity leave, I was going to have a WITNESS damn it! And he is the douche that knocked me up after all!

So he did. He stood by my side and smiled at all the right times and looked all proud of his sperm at all the right times and said all the right things at all the right times. (If anyone ever tells you that man isn't supportive, you shouldn't believe a damn word that comes out of their mouth!)

And my boss congratulated me and didn't bat an eye when I told him I wanted to take four months off.

And now my worst fears are over. Besides the whole mutilation of my girly parts thing... (It's not too late to change my mind, is it??)

Conception Story

Because you all want to know EXACTLY how this baby was conceived, right?

Right.

So, it was decided, by us, on towards a year ago or so, that we would begin “trying” for our #2 soon. Three-ish years separation is a good one, we thought. It was then decided (by me, because, I’m the one that really matters since I’m the one who’s going to be, you know, PREGNANT) that I did not want to miss (or otherwise HATE) our summer vacations because I was 18 months and 9000lbs pregnant. I thus decided to put off the trying until October, which, if we conceived in the first second post-IUD removal would make our children precisely three years apart. As The Energizer Bunny was…shall we say “no problem” to conceive, I assumed #2 would not be either. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t think they’d be precisely 3 years apart. In fact, it would have annoyed me if their birthdays were REALLY close together. But I expected them to be 3 years and 1 month apart…maybe 2…

So 5 ½ months go by with no success, due completely and totally to my body’s lack of any kind of schedule. Apparently my uterus has become just as lackadaisical about her work schedule as I am about mine…don’t worry, she gets the work done, just kinda, you know, whenever she wants to do it.

By this point, of course, I have mastered the time-honored ovulation discerning technique known as the “Cervical Mucus Method.”

Oh, I tried the easier ones, like the Basal Body Temperature, but it turns out I’m constantly living in a half-dead state based on my body temperature, which never rises above 96 degrees based on my home thermometer (despite the fact that the thing works appropriately in both the Unsupportive Louse and the Energizer Bunny…) But even ignoring my near-zombie-ness (which would explain a lot really) and blaming the stupid broken thermometer my temperature never fluctuated the entire 1.4 degrees it was expected to, to show ovulation had occurred or was about to occur or whatever. If I hadn’t managed to conceive previously, I would have at this point, completely freaked out. Instead, I threw the thermometer away. (Nice digital one too. Damn it.)

I want you all to know that I am completely, absolutely, utterly horrified by the mere THOUGHT of the Cervical Mucus Method. Probably not as much as you men reading this, but close enough. Nevertheless, lives were at stake. I rallied my courage and even managed not to puke. And quite confidently figured the grossness out in just two cycles.

So 5 ½ months after the “trying” begins, produces much grossness and no fertilized egg, I count very scientifically on my fingers and realize a baby conceived during whatever week my crazy ass uterus decides to ovulate this cycle would be due right around Christmas. And ugh, what a terrible time of year to be about to pop. Imagine the holiday parties you have to stand on your feet and look happy and talk with people you barely like that you couldn’t even drink at. Imagine the pain of getting gifts ready and wrapped and the house cleaned and the tree trimmed all while 9 months pregnant? Lord, imagine the in-laws being in town when you ACTUALLY deliver??

So we decided to take the month off. Now, remember we’d been trying with no success forever, so taking the month off just meant I didn’t force the Unsupportive Louse into un-consensual sex a few days of the month when it seemed most likely to be good timing. (This included the calendar method based on a 28 day cycle, and the calendar method based on my shortest and longest cycles in the last 5 months and the evil Cervical Mucus Method. Generally none of the 4 lined up which meant there was a whole lot of un-consensual sex going on.) Taking the month off did NOT mean abstinence (who the hell do you think I am?) nor did it mean actually using some sort of contraception, I mean, really, we are TRYING to get pregnant, that would just be dumb.

Only a day or two after my monthly bleeding session (sorry boys) I happened to notice (no, I wasn’t really checking, we weren’t trying, remember??) that my cervical mucus seemed to be telling me I was ovulating. As this is clearly impossible, being that a NORMAL uterus would wait 2 weeks before ovulating, I ignored said cervical mucus.

So of course we got pregnant.

Due date – December 20.

(Or Dec 27 if you use a normal cycle calendar, which the stupid nurse insisted on doing…because she knows more about my body than me.)