A Baby Is Born

Baby is officially here! She was born yesterday in the evening after many hours of contractions, not too much pushing and a whole lotta stitches. (Someone decided to come out Superman style, causing mommy to tear. Minus points for you, Baby.)

I feel like I ran a marathon that I was NOT trained for. Everything is sore, from my legs to my shoulders and everything in between.

She looks just like her daddy when he was born. Lots of strawberry blond peach fuzz on her head, blue eyes, and that dreaded  nose. I thinks she got my lips. Not sure about those ears yet...we'll have to see how they turn out.

I'll post more later. The endless stream of visitors, nurses, and other interrupters never ends...

Scattered Thoughts

Since I won't be around much, here are some scattered thoughts (a little like an early RTT if you will) to tide you over...

1. Mr. Clean likes to do the following to my pregnant belly:

• Rub it and ask if I'm smuggling watermelons.
• Rub it and say, "There's a cantaloupe in there."
• Put his hand on it in the middle of the night and feel for baby kicks. Sometimes this becomes rather uncomfortable, but I pretend I don't mind because it's so dang cute.
• Kiss my belly and talk to the baby. He usually asks her questions like, "Whatcha doin' in there?"
• Feels my belly button (which is still an inny, thank god) and asks if my "turkey timer" has popped out yet.
• Pretend to press my belly button and that, in doing so, my vagina essentially explodes and the baby comes out too. Sound effects and all.

2. I will be buying stock in Mederma. I didn't have any stretch marks up until this last month. And now that she's overdue, they've basically doubled. Thank you so much, Baby, for my newfound sexiness. Argh.

3. I keep seeing the commercial for the new Lysol soap dispenser that you don't have to touch. Their ad is all about how incredibly germy a regular soap dispenser is so why on earth would you want to touch it? Oh my god--germs!!!

Here's my line of thinking: Once you get the soap on your hands (and possibly some germs from that doggone regular soap pump), YOU WASH YOUR FUCKING HANDS. And if you do it right, the germs are gone. I think people are just too fucking dumb to put the sequencing together--or incredibly germophobic.

4. If I have to see that "potty dance" commercial one more time, I may scream. Why is there some random old guy playing guitar and teaching your kids how to do the potty dance? isn't that a bit creepy? And by the way, I have DONE the potty dance and it does NOT look like that. It looks like jumping up and down with my legs crossed while I pray that I don't pee my pants. He's leaving vital parts of the dance out. That just ain't right.

5. Avert your eyes if you're allergic to TMI... Okay, you were warned. I lost my mucous plus in the wee hours of the morning (which I discovered when I went wee wee at my typical 2:30 AM time). Then I started having some mild contractions through the next couple hours but I managed to kind of sleep through them. I woke up ravenous at about 5:30 AM, had some cereal, went back to bed, tossed and turned for a bit, and finally fell back asleep. Then I woke up at 9:30 AM completely ravenous once again and also with a few mild contractions. Perhaps having contractions makes a pregnant woman hungry? Anyway, I am hoping this (the contractions part of it) means that Baby plans to come today and that I won't have to be induced after all. (Probably wishful thinking, but I'm used to the disappointment by now.)

New Header

Alright, I got bored today (can't say that for much longer, so I'm totally taking advantage here) and decided to try my hand at making a new header. I'm not super creative and Photoshop Elements is somewhat limiting, so this is what I came up with.

Thoughts?

Come out already!!!

Baby is still holed up inside my uterus. She had decided she really likes it in there.

Fuck.

She was due Saturday. Now she's 4 days overdue. And there is NO sign that she's planning to make an arrival anytime soon. Things are closed up tight. No contractions. Nada.

Fuckity Fuck.

So the doctor has scheduled me for an induction on Monday. We would have been inducing on Friday, but Mr. Clean had to go and screw it up with a job interview. Damn him and his desire to make more money and further his career. So Monday it is.

Fucking A.

Hopefully she will suddenly decide, Hey, I'd like to be born! and she'll come before that. PLEASE DEAR GOD. Because a week and two days overdue seems like a lot. That seems like an eternity. And it seems like she'll be about 20 lbs by then.

I'll keep ya posted.

Spin Cycle: Behind the Scenes @ Bano Bits

Behind the scenes, huh? Like there's something special or amazing going on that people are dying to discover? Sorry folks, it's like Oz here--just little old me behind a curtain with a big booming microphone known as the blogosphere.

My blog started out as a few different things. At one point it was going to be a way to let family and friends know what was happening in my life. However, since no one really read it (and since I very rarely updated it), that fell to the wayside. Later I picked it back up as a way to share my art and photography, but again, if no one knows you exist, there's really no point.

Baby is what really got things moving for me blog-wise. I had been reading some "mommy blogs" out there and just loved how they expressed their trials, tribulations, joys and celebrations on their sites. The humor and wit kept me coming back. I wondered, Hey, could I do that? Well, maybe I wasn't going to make anyone laugh as hard as some of you guys have made me laugh, but I figured it would be a fun experiment. Plus, it was a great way to express what I've been going through with the pregnancy. I hoped for feedback from others and, much to my surprise, I got some.

I like blogging but sometimes I wish I could say more, especially about work. There are some days I just need to VENT about that place! Buuuuut, VodkaMom has been put through the ringer due to sharing too much about work and had some great advice about how to avoid letting it happen to you. I took the advice and also decided that having pseudonyms would help ensure that I don't become "discovered," although I'm sure someday it's bound to happen anyway. Fortunately I'm not Dooce or anything, so I doubt anyone I know is going to find this place, put two and two together, and out me to the world. I mean, they'd actually have to FIND it first!

That's pretty much it. I intend to keep blogging now that I have a little community that I enjoy sharing with. Baby will probably make it difficult to keep up with (if she ever comes...) but I know you all understand. That's part of what makes the community so awesome. Support from strangers--who would have thought it would be so important to me?!

You'll be the first to know

No, I am not having a baby yet. And the next person who calls or Facebooks or texts me to ask is going to get punched in the face. Because guess what, people? This is the 21st Century and I will LET YOU KNOW, I promise. I have a cell phone, the hospital has wireless for my laptop, and I am pretty sure that they also have those ancient things called phones (you know, the ones that rely on a land line?). So again, I WILL LET YOU KNOW. The reason I haven't called to let you know? BECAUSE NOTHING IS HAPPENING.

And why is everyone trying to tell me how to get Baby out of the womb? I'm not all that earnest to evict her. She'll come when she's ready. I swear ten people today had advice for me on the various ways to get her to make her debut. I DIDN'T ASK. Shit, my due date isn't even until tomorrow. I know they mean well, I really do, but (once again...seems like a recurring complaint) it's just freaking annoying.

I am not-so-eagerly anticipating all the unsolicited advice I'll start getting once she finally does arrive. If you think I'm bitchy now, just wait. Start looking for people with black eyes in my neighborhood.

I didn't get an Oscar, but...

...I DID get an award based on monkey balls. Okay, well not quite. But holy fucking monkey balls, I got an award for blogging. Hells yeah! Thanks to Vandy over at The Testosterone Three & Me, I am an award-winning blogger! Take that, Dooce! I am hot on your tail. I'll have my own HGTV show in no time.

Now if I can just figure out how to post it...

RTT: It's been a while

Dude, I'm exhausted and I haven't even DONE anything. Baby is due Saturday and I can tell we're getting close. Not because I'm dilated or anything though. (Oh no, things are closed up tight. She's patiently waiting for her eviction notice. It'll probably take an act of congress to get her out.)

So me being tired is really why I haven't blogged. Plus, there's not much going on. Life is surprisingly boring right now. (I know, I know. Just wait a few days or so. I'll be eating those words with a side of crow. And hopefully washing it down with a glass of wine.)

Anyone notice I use parenthesis a lot? I love them. My mind wanders a lot and I have all these little "asides" that I feel I must add. Parenthesis are helpful little containers for my randomness. (Anyone remember that song that was like "I love you period/do you love me questions mark/please, please exclamation point/I wanna hold you in parenthesis"? My parenthesis comment made me remember that song. Hmmm.)

There is one parapro where I work that pops into my room every morning and exclaims, "You're still here?!" Um, yeah. I am. If I wasn't, you wouldn't see me. DUH. I know she's just checking in and all, and she really is a nice person, but GOD IT'S ANNOYING AS HELL. Last time I just said, "Yep, I'm here until I'm not here." Because, well, DUH.

A friend is in labor at the hospital and is updating her Facebook every once in a while which I think is AWESOME. Seriously. I can't be there but I can stalk her via Facebook. Plus, now I know that we get free wireless at the hospital. I'm totally bringing my laptop and you'd better believe I will be updating my Facebook status with every contraction. Shit, maybe I'll even blog about how painful it is and WHERE ARE MY FUCKING DRUGS?!? The world needs to know.

Three whole paragraphs without parenthesis. Go me! (What are the odds? Oops. Shit.)

Is it pathetic that I am VERY excited that the dresser we want to get for Baby's room is on sale at Target this week? We were going to get it the week before but decided to wait until Mr. Clean gets paid tomorrow since we were already blowing $125 there that day. (Target and Costco are IMPOSSIBLE to get out of for less than $100. It's a scientific fact. Look it up.) The dresser is like $40 off this week and I am super stoked we waited. It must be a sign...that I need to go spend more money at Target.

Okay, that's all I've got today. Pretty much nothing. Do yourself a favor and go visit someone from my list on the right because they are MUCH more interesting and funny than I am.

Um...what?

My mother-in-law just called to see how the baby is doing. When I told her there was no dilation, she decided to inform me that I could jump start the process by jumping Mr. Clean's bones.

I HAVE NO WORDS.

RTT: All the weewee home

Went to the doctor yesterday for an OB appointment. I am 50% effaced! I'm glad things are moving along but hopefully there won't be too much progress until late next week. I need to keep working until then, although I wish I didn't have to. I REALLY don't want to be at work lately. I'm so uncomfortable all the time! It's also making me super grouchy, which has its benefits when dealing with middle schoolers. They certainly didn't fuck with me today.

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I feel like I have to pee ALL THE TIME. And I also feel like I'm leaking pee, even if I'm not. (Sometimes I am. Just a teeny bit. I know--eeewwww!) I think I went to the bathroom about a hundred times today even though there really wasn't anything much in my bladder. Deep breath...10 more days.

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Yesterday I finally had this feeling of I want to hold her. I haven't felt that yet--I've been to petrified of all the crazy changes that she will bring. But I was thinking about her arrival and I just finally was ready for it; for her. I guess I'm in the acceptance stage.

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I really dislike the feeling of not being in control (just ask Mr. Clean--oh the stories he could tell you). This is making me think really long and hard about whether or not I'll want the narcotic medications during labor. I had my wisdom teeth out a couple years ago and I HATED the feeling of the drugs, especially when they tried using the gas. I'm sure that in the heat of the moment, when I'm in a whole LOTTA pain, I may just yell GIVE ME THE DRUGS NOW!!! but right now it skeeves me out.

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Mr. Clean is quite convinced I will either punch him in the face or pull a complete Exorcist-style bag of bat-shit crazy on him while I'm in labor.

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What's your best advice with regard to labor? I wanna hear it.

Spin Cycle: Confessions

I must confess, first of all, that the Usher song "Confessions" started running through my head as soon as I read the title for this week's Spin Cycle.

Oh, but that's not my REAL confession. It's just, like, an extra. A bonus. (You're welcome!)

I could confess my absolute TERROR about becoming a mom in just a few short weeks, but I've already done that. It's still there though. It's like a teeny little monster that lives inside of me, surfacing occasionally just to drive the PANIC deeper into my soul. I really hate that monster.

So, I am going to confess how EXCITED I am that I won't have to go back to work this year. (Unless Baby makes an early appearance. She'd better not. If she tries to make an escape, I'm going to cross my legs until she gets the picture.) I hate to brag about it, and I'm really not trying to, but I am just so happy that I don't have to worry about arranging two or three weeks of daycare or try to juggle my schedule against Mr. Clean's in order to make it work out. It was an enormous relief to find out that I could just barely eek by with the amount of leave I have saved up (for this very purpose, I might add) since I became a teacher four years ago.

In the same realm, I must also confess that I have started the downhill, I-don't-give-a-rat's-ass slide that I believe many teachers fall into in the weeks before they are due. There's just this aura of "Who cares?" that seems to surround me. My students are talking? Eh. They're middle schoolers. They talk. Grading papers? I'll get to it...eventually. Meetings? Perfect time to zone out. After all, I won't be here for X, Y or Z that they're discussing anyway. But the thing is, this is totally UNLIKE me. I'm usually way into work--staying late, always caught up on grading so I can hound students about missing work, and busy being the meanest teacher in the entire school. (Okay, well I may not be the meanest, but I try.)

GLEE!

OMG, Glee is coming back soon! Joy! Rapture!

I just saw the commercial. I almost peed a little!!! (Good thing I'm packin' protection downstairs these days in case, you know, I sneeze or laugh or cough.)

I'm a total Gleek. Not crazy, stalkerish Gleeky. But I have both of the CD's. And it's set for a season pass on my TiVo. That's going to come in handy because there's a good chance Baby won't always agree that watching Glee is at the top of her to-do-right-now list.

Any other Gleeks out there?

Random Tuesday Thoughts: Pullin' the Plug

Mr. Clean and I attended a prepared childbirth class this weekend. Since I procrastinated and waited until the last possible moment to sign up for a class, our best option was the two Sunday classes that are FOUR HOURS EACH. At least it's not a waste of our time. It was a great experience for Mr. Clean because I've been reading the books but I don't share all of the information with him, so there's a lot he didn't know about. He's becoming well educated in the area of pregnancy and birth. (And he's getting really good at back rubs. We practiced in class but I'm thinking we need to practice at home, too. Just in case.)

Anyway, we've had a joke since around Thanksgiving that Baby might "reach for the plug" and try to come early. Now, I knew about the mucous plug because I'd read the books, but Mr. Clean wasn't aware that there was an ACTUAL plug--until yesterday. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when they mentioned the loss of the mucous plug during the movie. He leaned over and whispered (grinning like the Cheshire Cat), "I didn't know there was REALLY a plug!" He's still talking about it today. You'd think he'd discovered there really IS a Santa Claus.

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I think I might actually watch "American Idol" this year. I got hooked on the auditions somehow and noticed there is some real talent this year. Any AI fans out there? Who do you think is a front runner? I don't know their names, but I sure like the guy that did Paul Abdul's "Straight Up" and that chick with the horrible teeth dreadlocks.

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I was reading Heather's blog today and am VERY excited at the prospect of breastfeeding because she lost 20 lbs in like TWO WEEKS. Um, sign me up for that!!!  My goal is to lose all of the 40ish lbs weight that I've gained before the end of the summer. That gives me some wiggle room since I'm pretty sure it won't be as easy to get the gym as it was pre-Baby.

Mr. Clean goes practically every evening. He looks good. None of that sympathy weight that lots of dads gain. Nope. He left it to me to gain all the weight. And then some. Definitely enough for both of us--and maybe for the dog, too.

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I really, REALLY hope Baby gets Mr. Clean's eyes. He has these beautiful blue eyes (mine are just poopy brown) and really long lashes. My lashes are blonde and short and if I'm not wearing mascara, I look like I don't even HAVE lashes. I really hope she doesn't get his nose though. Please, dear God, no. It works for him, but I think I would have to put funds aside for a nose job if she got his nose. For her sixteenth birthday she can get a car or a nose job. (Okay, I'm totally joking. Mostly.)

Spin Cycle: I can't live without...

I'm having a hard time with this one because there are several things I can't live without. I mean, I probably could if I was forced to, but let's not go there if it's not necessary. I'm already living without wine and brie. I may have to do serious harm if you took any of these away from me:

Coffee/Caffeine
I looove coffee. I could drink it all the time, many times a day if (A) I wouldn't have a heart attack as a result and (B) it didn't cost an arm and a leg to buy one. (Starbucks, you are killing my bank account!) During this pregnancy, I have learned to live without the delightfully upbeat effect that caffeine gives me. I still have my morning Starbucks (my to the financial dismay of Mr. Clean, who continues to tout that we should own stock because I am probably keeping their Western Division in business...or whatever) but I get decaf. Decaf is BORING. I still get the taste I love but I don't get the cracked-out high buzz. That AM buzz is what gets me going in the mornings--or at least it used to.

Last year my students could tell when I hadn't had my morning cup 'o joe. They also knew it was no time to fuck with me. Those were quiet mornings.

Mr. Clean
Oh. My. God. Can I just say how fucked up my shit would be without that man? (That's technical terminology, just so you know.) He keeps me organized, on time, and happy. He keeps the house clean, pays the bills, and does all the yardwork. If I listed everything he does around here, you would start to wonder what I actually do. (Admittedly, it's close to nothing. Yesterday I emptied AND loaded the dishwasher. That hasn't happened in YEARS. He was ready to get the camera out and document it.)

Mr. Clean is probably one of the hardest working people I know. He deserves to be on Oprah or something. You know those episodes where you surprise your spouse and then Oprah gives them all sorts of cool stuff for being an amazing person? Yeah, he should be on one of those episodes. (Preferably the one where she gives him a vacation. For two.)

Facebook
In an earlier post, I mentioned my addiction to Facebook. It's similar in strength to my addiction to coffee. I love "communicating" with people in this simplistic format. You can see what they're up to without having to call and have an actual conversation. I don't mind talking on the phone, but Suzie Q from high school that I haven't talked to since graduation isn't really on my list of people to call and have a gab session with. Much easier to see her status update and click "Like" or leave a short 'n sweet comment.

I also can't go a day without playing enjoy some of the games on there. Yes, I'm one of those lame people that play things like Farmville and Restaurant City. It's fun! (Who wouldn't want to run a farm without ever having to get dirty? Plus there are green alien cows. Um, awesome.) Oh, and they have SCRABBLE! Who doesn't love a good game of Scrabble? (Okay, I am a total word nerd and have no problem admitting that. I just have problems spelling now that I'm thinking for two.)

Random Tuesday Thoughts

A couple of days ago, I was leaving a Facebook message on a friend's wall. (By the way, I am ADDICTED to Facebook. It's bad. Baaaaad.) I was going to say something was "right up his alley" but I could NOT remember how to spell alley all of a sudden. At first I typed "ally" but I knew that wasn't right. So of course, I went to dictionary.com and checked and I was right--about being wrong. So typical.

So then I started thinking that, surely, alley was a word because I've been using it for decades and, for god's sake, used to even have one behind my house when I was little. How the shit do you spell it? I tried other spellings that I KNEW were wrong (allie, for example) and finally just gave up. Defeated. Okay, I am a TEACHER people. A language arts teacher. And, typically, a pretty good speller. So the fact that the spelling of this stupid little word eluded me for something like 30 minutes was ridiculous/humbling/humiliating/irritating as hell.

Finally, instead of saying that whatever it was that I was writing about was "up his alley" I had to think of something else to say. Bah! Then like, oh, 30 minutes after this whole debacle, it just POPPED INTO MY HEAD. A-l-l-E-y. Duh. Of course! Why didn't I think of that?! Oh. My. God.

I think the string of expletives that escaped my mouth at this realization would rival the length of the Great Wall. Okay, I'm exaggerating. But not really.

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Speaking of expletives and realizations, Mr. Clean and I have come to the conclusion that, at some point, Baby will arrive (SOON!) and we will have to stop cursing like sailors. Dirty, potty mouthed sailors that love to use cuss words for every part of the English language. (Need a verb? Fuck/Fucked/Fucking! Need an adjective? Fucking/Fuckable/Fuckalicious! You get my point. We love the F-bomb in this house. Fuck yeah!)

My parents are starting to figure out they, too, will have to stop cursing so much. (I get the F-bomb usage from them. I was the playground Cuss Queen in the third grade. No joke. I wish I had a crown and a sash to prove it.) I'm not sure how we will all communicate. It's going to make conversation difficult. We will actually have to THINK before speaking. The horror!

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My dog is an addict. She's addicted to dog bones. You think I'm joking, but if you try to take away her crack--er, I mean bone--she will tear your ass apart. Like good parents, we keep giving her more, feeding her addiction. I believe this is known as enabling. Yup, we're enablers. She's going to end up on "Intervention." You just wait.

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I just erased three paragraphs because they sucked and really, there was no point to what I was saying. You're welcome.

To Do List

This weekend my parents visited and we managed to get Baby's room about 99% ready. I feel an extreme sense of relief. (That room was a DISASTER. She would have been sleeping in her bouncer instead of her crib.) However, that relief is going to be short-lived because the to do list is still long...and keeps getting longer.

To Do (preferably BEFORE Baby gets here):
1. Finish and send thank you cards. (To my credit, they are half way done. I have the family cards finished, just not the work ones. At least I won't have to stamp those.)

2. Get the hospital paperwork finished and turned in. (Apparently it makes your arrival easier so you aren't screaming bloody murder, ready to have a baby, trying to remember your address and phone number. Sounds like a good idea to me.)

3. Wash all of her new clothes (and there are LOTS). At least they're sorted by size. Man, she sure got a lot of clothes.

4. Get necessities such as diapers (I have enough for like one week, tops), wipes, and "personal items" (mommies, you know what I mean so I'll leave it at that).

5. Pack the hospital bag. (Hey, what do I need to pack? You people have done this before. Surely you have some amazing insight into this.)

6. About a bazillion other things. Seriously, if told you everything on the list, you would be here forever. (Or, more likely, become seriously bored and leave. Probably the latter. Yeah.)

I only have like 3.5 weeks to do everything. That may seem like forever, but it IS NOT. Plus, I am quite a procrastinator so that's not going to help anything. Hopefully Baby is a procrastinator like me and will stay put until she's due.

Just Swell

My feet are swelling like balloons. I went from no swelling to WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH MY FEET?! overnight. I don't even have ankles anymore, I have cankles. At the end of the day yesterday, they were practically the size of tennis balls. I know it's normal to experience swelling, but this is ridiculous.

Four weeks to go. Four puffy, swollen weeks.

Warning: TMI

Here it goes. If you are unwilling to read about peeing, pooping, and heartburn, RUN NOW.

Okay, you had your chance. It's go time.

I am so glad I am in my last month of this pregnancy. It's really been pretty mild and hasn't given me too many problems...UNTIL NOW.  Here are the fun things I am dealing with:

1. Every morning at 2 a.m., I wake up with the worst heartburn EVER. The thing that wakes me up is the acid reflux--everything "refluxes" right into my mouth so I basically ALMOST THROW UP but manage to wake up the split second before anything escapes.  Then I have to sit up, belch LOUDLY (I could probably compete with some beer guzzling frat boys at this point), and take a half-dozen Tums.

Oh, Tums are my best friend lately. I love them. I never leave home without them. There's a bottle by the bed and one in my purse. (And I make Mr. Clean buy the Smoothies because the other kinds are just gross.)

Next time I have a doctor's visit, I am asking for a prescription for some sort of antacid or whatever will prevent me from throwing up in the mouth every night and suffering the inferno that constantly brews in my esophagus.

2. Around the time I am done downing my Tums, I realize I have to pee. So I prop myself up, roll over, sit up, and get out of bed. It's a fucking PROCESS to get out of bed. I long for the days I could just jump out of bed like there was nothing to it. I feel like the giant blueberry girl on Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory when the oompa loompas roll her away.

3. At about 4 a.m. my body decides it now needs to poop, and no it will not wait, you need to poop NOW. So I have to wake up and take a poo or I feel sick. Ain't that grand?

The benefit to this new schedule of bodily functions is that I'm up every 2 hours, so when Baby arrives I'll already be prepared for her feeding schedule. I still have a month of this crap left though. Hopefully I can maintain my sanity (and not throw up all over Mr. Clean in the middle of the night due to the acid reflux).

I'm being followed!

I have a follower! Um...WOW! And thanks!

Guess that means I really have to keep up with this thing. Luckily it hasn't been too difficult so far. (Although Mr. Clean keeps looking over suspiciously to see why I am typing so much. He doesn't know about the blog yet. I should probably clue him in, but then he'd be all WHY ARE YOU TELLING PEOPLE THAT? Sigh.)

RTT: Random Tuesday Thoughts

So even though I have never officially joined the RTT linkup, I am going to participate. Hope that's okay. If not, I guess it's too late anyway!

I had both of my baby showers (family and work) this weekend. Someone told me not to register for or buy clothes because I would receive so many. They were dead on. The grandparents were the worst.  They literally gave me STACKS of clothes. I think I got enough outfits to last a lifetime...if she stayed in the 0-6 month range for her whole life. I'm not really complaining though. I am incredibly lucky to have the amazing support of my family and my coworkers.

I am tired of seeing Facebook status updates with spelling and grammar errors. I'm not perfect in this area, but I'd like to think I'm close. Besides, these are grown ass adults. They ought to know better by now. A friend posted something about attending a "bad suite convention - AKA career fair." Uh, unless you are at a convention about crappy Vegas hotel rooms, you are spelling that WRONG. This guy has been looking for a job for a looong time now. I hope there aren't more errors like this on his resume, although that would explain why he can't seem to find gainful employment. I had another friend that posted about his arms being "soar" after riding quads all weekend. I replied that I hoped he didn't fly away anytime soon. He didn't seem to get it and said he wasn't going anywhere. Riiiight.

I am really looking forward to this weekend. My mother is going to come over and help me get Baby's room finished. This includes painting. I have no idea what color or colors we'll be painting the walls, but I'll let you know when I figure it out. My mom is just about the best interior painter EVER. She's remodeled and painted the interiors of every home she's lived in and has got the whole process down to a science. I think I should hire her out and take a cut of the profit. I could make some good money that way. I'd be like a paint pimp. (Insert joke here. Pregnancy brain won't allow me to come up with anything clever.)