Ok, I would like to post a warning to anyone who is about to use a depilatory to remove any hair around the bikini line: watch where that stuff goes! nothing bad happend to me, I'm just a little more bare than I used to be. I thought (and still do, I suppose) that using a cream to remove unwanted hair in a region I cannot see (the pregnant belly renders that whole region off-limits to my sight, unless I'm trying really hard in the bathroom by myself, and even then it's difficult) is preferable to just blindly going at it with a razor (a scene in the film La Pianiste has rendered razors even creepier to me). And I guess I can say that this product officially works (Veet, that is) because my bikini line is officially clear.

Hair removal has been somewhat of theme this past week, with D removing all facial hair save his actual goatee (moustache is gone too) and giving himself a thorough haircut, and LPT cutting her own bangs "just a little bit shorter." I fear for the locks of our new addition.

It's for kids, see? The co-founder of Wham-O, (and co-creator of the hula hoop and the frisbee), Richard Knerr died Monday at the age of 82.

And I am officially a pregnant woman. For breakfast this morning, I had toast with butter and jam, and then, filling an inexplicable craving, I ate more toast with gorgonzola spread. Now I am burping blue cheese. Mmmm.

Has anyone seen Juno? D and I saw it on Tuesday and I absolutely loved it. There's been some talk in the blogosphere (can't believe I actually used that word) about the film's glamourization of pregnancy (big fat HA on that one) and its dismissal of the "smushmortion" option. I went into the viewing with these two issues front and center in my mind, along with a slight loathing of Diablo Cody, the writer of the film. (she changed her name to Diablo. It reeks of...I don't know what. It's annoying, case closed.) First, the smushmortion as a non-viable option: well, the movie is about a pregnant teen. Ending that pregnancy in the first 20 minutes of the movie kind of kills the plot. And there's no part where Juno decries abortion - she even goes to the clinic, confident in her decision to procure a "hasty abortion." But when she arrives, she exercises her choice and leaves. And really, isn't that what the debate is about? A woman's choice? Anyway, as far as the glamourization goes, I personally don't find being pregnant glamourous in any way shape or form, so I have a bit of trouble with this one. One does have to admire Juno for making the best out of a sticky situation; she continues to go to school and toughs it out for the duration of her pregnancy. She endures ridicule, getting the hairy eyeball from all of her classmates, but the character is very strong emotionally. She is confident in her ability to get through this, and she has the support of family and two good friends to help her. So I suppose that if glamourization = not letting your life fall apart, then yes, the film does glamourize teen pregnancy. One could also see it as a form of grinnng and bearing it, and making do with what you have.

That's my two cents. Go see the movie.

Being sick + being preggers = unhappy mama. But I called the doctor and I can (safely) take any Tylenol product. w00t! So now I have medicine head, but I'll take that any day over coughing my head off (and most likely scaring the bejesus out of the midget hibernating in my belly) and wiping my nose every 30 seconds).

Next week (23 January, to be exact) we can celebrate National Pie Day! All of my cooking friends (and you know who you are, dahlings) need to get hopping so that we can indulge in this most holy of days. (p.s. I like cherry. Just sayin'.)

I'm always a little bit wistful on 17 January. I have no idea how I remember year after year, but today is the birthday of one of the strongest (and longest-lasting) grandfather figures I had during my youth. While my (only) biological grandfather died when I was six, Vernon was around until I was 10. Now, this is not at all to discount other grandfathers I have had (Sweet David, Bobby) but I saw Vernon on a daily basis from the time I was six weeks old until just before he died. He was awesome. He was an adult who would actually play with me, and I recall idyllic days spent exploring his (seemingly) vast yard, helping him in the garden, tinkering in the garage, or just watching the clouds. (I was also allowed to sneak a rose petal or two from the garden if Nell wasn't looking) He was the one who started the yearly ritual of looking for cicaida shells attached to trees, and I took great pleasure in passing this on to LPT this past summer.

I have no idea how old he would be today (probably up there) but I miss him all the time (even if I really only reminisce on one day in January) and I wish that LPT could have had the wonderful priviledge of knowing him as I did. I miss you, buddy.

Lil' Puddin' Tater has a new word for the week. DAMN. And each time she says it, D and I have to stifle laughter because it's so funny to hear it emerging from her mouth in her little high-pitched voice. Example:

D was in the shower and LPT decided that she needed to get into the bathroom. So while I was putting laundry away in the bedroom, I hear "Daddy! I need to get in there! DADDY! Open this damn door!" Then after that, much later in the afternoon, she was trying to get into the refrigerator for some yogurt. Unfortunately, we keep a child lock on the refrigerator since she has a habit of just leaving it open. So the refrigerator was locked. This caused her to yell, "Somebody needs to open this damn refrigerator. I'm hungry."

And though she's cursing, I can't help but take some pride in the fact that she's using this word correctly, in terms of syntax.

Since right before Christmas, life has been hectic. And it hasn't all been bad, but there was lots of family stuff (unexpected death, somewhat-expected illness, etc.) and then, of course, the customary craziness that accompanies the holiday season in general, especially when you have [a] midget[s] and everyone wants to see you guys. It kind of doubly sucked this year since D was sick and/or working for at least half of the family gatherings, and I had to go BY MYSELF, knocked up, with a disgruntled LPT in tow.

But all that is over, right? RIGHT?

Not quite. The somewhat-expected illness I mentioned is in reference to my grandmother, who had to be hospitalized on our anniversary (4 years and no murders yet! Woo hoo!) with a raging kidney/urinary tract infection that rendered her completely immobile and everyone thought she had suffered a stroke. (she went from kind of feeble to not being able to feed herself, walk unassisted, or go to the bathroom alone.) Since she was in such a state, my mother was reluctant to leave her at the hospital alone. So, she and her siblings traded shifts day and night while she looked at rehab facilities/nursing homes. The woman never stops.

I tell you all this as an introduction to the main point of this post: I am not a stay-at-home mom. I know, OBVIOUSLY, since I work full-time, but I mean that I have zero desire to be a stay-at-home mom. Basically, since my mother was indisposed this week and part of last week, she hasn't been able to keep LPT. Which means I don't work. And all that is completely fine. My mother does quite a bit for us in the realm of child care, and one of the perks of being employed by your stepfather is that if there's a family emergency, her knows the gravity of the situation and usually won't give any trouble if I need to take off. So I got a taste of the life of a SAHM, and I must say, it was yuck. The last time I stayed at home was when I was in the throes of PPD, so I can't recall much except wishing I could just go back to bed. But this time around, I'm not nearly so bad off! So I thought that maybe this would be fun, a week of me and LPT by ourselves, quality time and all that jazz.

I was wrong. Staying at home with a toddler (who is high-maintenance on a really good day) can make one certifiably crazy. LPT is not happy about having new addition to the family, and she has begun to act out regularly to communicate her feelings. Combine all this with her typical toddler behavior of ignoring me all the time and her incessant questions (Why do we have to have a baby? Why is it a boy? Why do people have babies? Can I have a popsicle for dinner?) And as a little added bonus, we can throw in a few (unintentional) kicks to my abdomen. By the end of the day, I wanted to scream and curl up (as best I could, what with the belly and all) in the fetal position and just be alone for a few days. I wanted nothing more than to get away and have a few moments of peace BY MYSELF. But that was not to be. Knowing there was an end in sight made it bearable, but I have renewed respect for women and men who stay at home (out of choice or necessity) with their kids. I cannot do it.

Since it's been almost two months, and since a brand-New Mama has asked me to, I suppose I will begin with the posting again.

And since it's a new year, and time to begin anew, I would like to start by listing some things for which I am thankful.

1. Coffee.

2. Amazing friends (the New Mama & SweetBoobs!, each and every person I saw on the 29th, J&N, R&N, D&S and if I left anyone out, it was unintentional and I apologize.). It's a wonderful comfort to know that these are the people who are there for me no matter the circumstance, and who know (hopefully) that the feeling is reciprocal. These are the people who give me the warm fuzzies whenever we are together, and who know me (perhaps a little too) well.

3. My (ever-expanding) family. It's a mixed bag of feelings right now, with excitement topping the list. But also apprehension (how in the hell am I going to manage with TWO midgets? Especially when Lil' Puddin' Tater has made it abundantly clear that she wants no part of any baby. And she wanted a sister, not a brother, thank you very much.)

4. My extended family. (Parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, etc.) I come from good people. And they make me smile, even during the stress of the holidays. This is priceless. I feel very fortunate that though I am related to these people, I would count them among my most dear friends any day of the week.

5. Coffee. (deserves two entries)