My Life in (con)TEXT

Me: I have dinner with the girls @ 5:30.

Mr. Clean: I also have dinner with some girls at that same time. Strippers and beer. : D

Me: Figures. I'll have to take BB.

Mr. Clean: The girls love her.

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A close friend had her baby boy last week. I said I was going over for a few minutes. Two hours later...

Mr. Clean: Dinner isn't going to make itself.

Ahhhh, freak out

The other night, as I lay in bed, struggling to get comfortable amongst my umpteen pillows, I started thinking about the impending arrival of Baby. As my thoughts drifted, the realization hit me: I am going to be a mommy.

Now some of you might be thinking, Duh, what were you expecting with that eggplant growing inside you? But there was just something in that moment that brought the feelings and emotions tied to being responsible for a human life right to the forefront of my mind. And then the thoughts were like a flood, a rushing stream of confusion and fright and holy-shit-what-the-hell-did-I-get-myself-into. It went something like this:

Oh my god, I am going to be a mommy. Will I be a good mom? What if I'm not? I have no idea what to do. I don't know anything about having a baby. What if I fail? I'm scared. Is Mr. Clean scared to be a daddy? I should ask him. I don't want to ask him because I'm crying and being all weird and emotional. Oh my god, I am going to be a mommy...

And because I have more hormones running through my system that an entire middle school full of teenagers, I started crying more. Not a big cry with heavy sobs and chokes and all that. But I cried. I was scared. I am scared. EVERYTHING is about to change. Forever. And change is scary for me. Plus it's not like it's going to be a gradual change. No, no. I go into the hospital without a baby (one on the outside anyway) and come home with a screaming, pooping, nursing bundle of joy. Then I have to figure out what to do with her and how to care for her. For the rest of my life. Tell me that's not completely intimidating.

I have been told countless times that this will be the most exciting time in my life; that I will love her more than anything else and that "it will all be worth it once you see her." I believe it--I really do. I'm sure that I will be able to figure things out as I go. I know that everyone and their mother will want to give me advice (needed or not) about how to care for her. And I know that Mr. Clean will do anything and everything to make sure that Baby and I are happy and well cared for.

In approximately 7 weeks, Baby will be coming home with us. As ill-prepared as I feel, I'm certain that we will make it work because we always do. I'll let you know how it works out.

A few scattered thoughts

This blogging thing is going to be harder than I thought. How do people come up with witty/heartfelt/amazing blogs several times a week? I can barely manage one or two and it all depends on the drama of my own life. No drama = nothing to blog. And quite frankly, I prefer things to be drama-free. I get enough of that teaching middle schoolers. Oh god, it's like the stuff radiates from their oily pubescent pores. (Shudder.)

Frankly, my life tends to be on the boring side. I'm a homebody and so is Mr. Clean, which means we don't get out much. I guess the upside to this is that there will be no dramatic shift in our social lives once Baby arrives. We're used to being boring losers. So, we will just be boring losers with a baby. That poor kid has her work cut out for her.

Maybe that's the upside to having a kid. It forces us off our couch potato butts and out into the world. There are trips to the zoo and the aquarium and Disneyland to plan, not to mention the museum, the ocean, and grandma and grandpa's house. Mr. Clean has never been to Disneyland. Poor, sheltered man. His parents weren't really fans of getting out the house either. Note to self: Take Mr. Clean and Baby to Disneyland. Do not end up like Mr. Clean's parents. Ohmygod, please do not end up like them. (These people only leave the house to go to work and of course shopping at WalMart on occasion. Double shudder.)


I think it's time to invest in a good travel agent.

True Test

The other day my wonderful husband (Mr. Clean) and I decided to buy a closet organizer for the baby's room. I was under the very incorrect impression that we would wait a while before installing it. (Can you tell which one of us is the procrastinator?) However, since Mr. Clean cannot possibly sit still and relax for more than five minutes, he decided to install the dang thing that very evening. And since there are several parts of the process that require an extra hand, I got wrangled into helping.

I have decided that there are at least three things that truly test a marriage. These are:

1. Moving
2. Putting up a Christmas tree
3. Installing a closet organizer

For the record, we have now officially passed all three tests.