Conversations Overheard

*This conversation took place between a 5 year-old boy and myself, directly following said boys attendance at a "Sexual Health Education" talk held at his school.*

Boy: "You're going to have a baby."

(What I heard: "I've been out to lunch for the last 30 weeks, but now I'm riding shotgun on the State The Obvious train.")

What I Said: "I sure am."

(Pointing to belly) "And it's in there."

(What I heard: "Look at me! I paid attention during our school assembly. Gold star for me!")

"Yes, that's right"

"And the baby is going to come out of your vagina."

(What I Heard: "VAGINA.")

"Um, yup. Sure. Ok."

(Pointing to my Lady Business) "And your vagina is right there!"

(What I Heard: "I'm gonna go home and tell my parents that I know where your VAGINA is.")

"Excuse me, little boy. Don't you have a Bionicle to build?"


Gosh darn those cute little boys. Bless his little pea-pickin' heart.

Last Thursday, I was officially 19 weeks along the Baby Bandwagon which means that I was due for a detailed ultrasound. Thus, I loaded up on water and Peppermint tea and dragged my full little bladder to Women's Hospital and waited eagerly for a glimpse at the Mexican jumping bean that has been kicking the crap out of me the last 3 weeks.

Now, I know that some have very strong opinions about whether or not expectant parents should to privy to the baby's gender before its grand entrance. You people can just stop right there because we are ALL ABOUT IT. Seriously, when I walk into a Baby GAP I want to know which side I should be headed to. Distressed jeans and sweaters with elbow patches or corduroy jumpers and pink leggings. It's all about priorities, people.

At any rate, the hospital has a strict policy about divulging a baby's gender before 20 weeks. No way, no how. However, and I find this amusing, if they see anything (or lack thereof, so to speak) then my OB will be able to tell me next week. Because, really? The picture that you send with my file is magically going to change during the next 7 days and you can't tell me now? Is it like a Polaroid that needs a little time and TLC before anything appears? Really??

So, being the huge expert that I am, I watched that screen for any, any, ANY clue. The technician was very chatty and pointed everything out. "Here's the spine, the two hemispheres of the brain, the four chambers of the heart, arm bone, leg bone, blah, blah, blah bone..." And then she stopped chatting and switched to a new angle and, voila! It was like the clouds parted and a little beam of light was shining down on the screen. Angels singing quietly from above. There was that good ol' spread eagle view that I would know anywhere. (It was the first picture we had of The Boy. It spent months on the fridge and is now is pasted in his baby book, waiting oh so patiently for his wedding day slide show.) And guess what! No boy bits. Which was relieving, seeing as I have been making The Boy kiss my belly button and "Say hello to your little sister" for the last 5 months.

As we got into the car after the appointment, I reveled in my superior intuition and ultrasound deciphering skills, until Hubby piped up and said, "Um, no. I am preeeeeety sure there was something there".

Instead of immediately dismissing his silly boy notions, like I am apt to do (especially lately. Hormones!), I took a moment to give this careful consideration.

"Honey? Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I am totally sure. It was huge! How could you miss that??"

Pause.

Pause.

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahaha..."

"Wait, what?! What is so funny?"

"You are SUCH a guy."

"Whaaa?"

"Dude. That was the UMBILICAL CORD."

"Oh. Ooooooooooooooooohhh. Ok, that makes more sense."

So, gentlemen, trust me on this. No matter how much you want to believe it, your baby's penis does not extend past it's head. Though, it is sweet that you have that much faith in your genetics. Really. So cute. I could just pinch your little cheeks, but I am too busy patting you on the head.

Never have I ever...

Things I swore I would NEVER do when I entered Mommydom:



Let The Boy watch TV before the age of 36... until I realised I gave birth to a couch potato.


Use the word "bubba" (humanspeak= bottle)... until my brain turned to mush from lack of sleep and that is the word that felt the most comfortable falling out of my lazy ass mouth.


Let myself leave the house looking anything less than fabulous... until I learned about the speed at which yam can leave a spoon and hit your lap... and bangs.



Leak booby juice through my bra...until I realised that those puppies have their own agenda.



Hover over Hubby's shoulder and dictate parenting techniques...until I realised that we have very different parenting styles. His style is a little something I like to call...wrong.



Throw things at hubby's head ...until an empty baby wipe box slipped from my fingers. Accidentally on purpose.



Want to say, "Thanks for the advice. Now shove it."...until people with ridiculously obnoxious children of their own decided that their parenting tips were something I would love and hug and hold close to my heart.



Allow The Boy to terrorize the cats, like his daddy does...until I realised how freakin' hilarious those cats are when they run.



Think to myself, "Oh, I can't wait for you to have children"...until one of my girlfriends said, "Ewwwww. That's so disgusting!"



******



I wonder what wonderful life lessons #2 will bring out of the womb to share with Mommy. I swear, there is a little school in there that holds class every day for 40 weeks. The daily lesson plan? How To Get The Lady With The Boob Food To LIGHTEN THE HELL UP Or Die Trying. Something along those lines.

Second star to the right; straight on 'till morning.

April 17, 2007.

Early morning. The house is quiet. Except for Daddy's slow, slumbering breathes on the pillow next to me, and the heavy pounding of my heart in my throat.

Ka-thump. Ka-thump. Ka-thump.

My hand moves trepidly, sliding it's way through the tangle of bedsheets until it reaches my belly. Hard. Unmoving. Foreign.

The doctor said you would be awake by now, I whisper and silently decide that a shower will be good for us both.

Tedious minutes pass and no change. Wait another half hour, I tell myself. Call the doctor when her office opens.

Ka-thump. Ka-thump. Ka-thump.

I crawl back into the soft folds of the bed and within moments the pain arrives. Tight, cutting, squeezing pain right between my hipbones. All of the air in my lungs somehow forces its way through my pursed lips and I know that it has begun.

It is finally time.

*****

Hello, Boy the Wendy Lady says to Peter. Are you ready for an awfully big adventure?

Some time after you come home, we are in the big, yellow chair- you are in my lap, sleeping. You make a movement, very small. Small enough not to be noticed by anyone else in the room, but i feel you. Just you and me. Our little secret language that we have been sharing for the last two seasons. This time, it is a fluid, gliding of your little arm, your elbow slides up and rests near your head.

Oh, I think. I know you.

In that moment I realise that somewhere deep in my soul, I have always known you. We have traveled together before and I have always loved you. My bond with you is eternal and everlasting.

The sweet, sweet sound...

...of hormones.



Hubby: "Oh hey. I thought you said this was broken?"



Moi: "I did."



"But it's not. Did you fix it?"



Glare.



"Oh, haha. I guess so. How did you do it?"



"How? How did I fix it?? I'm f'ing McGyver, that's how!

They Never Told Me Files #103

...that I would find Hotwheels in my sock drawer, my eyeshadow in the laundry hamper, Little People in the vegetable crisper, Cheerios in the toilet...

...that the dining room table is, apparently, not high enough for the cat food to be left.

...that toddlers digest Meow Mix with suprising ease.

...that pillows need to be left on the floor behind the couch. You know, for whenever a toddler decides to take a flying jump off the top of said furniture.

...that a previously normal house cat can be hugged straight into neurosis, thus causing patches of hair to fall willy-nilly in every crook and cranny of the house.

...that toddlers do not digest kitty hair.

Car 54, Where Are You?

So...

The Boy has finally made it over the I'm- Teething-and-Waking-the-Entire-Household-Up-at-Consistent-Ungodly-Hours hump.

Which, I really shouldn't even be announcing because if the last 8 months have taught us anything, it is this: The moment either Hubby or I even think about praising The Boy for good behaviour, within 24 hours he proceeds to preform the complete, polar opposite. The local head Deity of Bad Juju is putting in some serious overtime these days, at our expense. Jerk.

At any rate, since we have had a tiny bit more shut eye lately, someone (Hubby) decided it would be ok to check out Facebook until 3:00am....when he had signed on for the early shift. Suffice to say, 5:30am came pretty damn quick. So, when Sleeping Beauty (moi) rose at a much more decent hour, Knucklehead crawled into the still warm bed and disappeared.

Imagine my shock when I tiptoed into the boudoir a few hours later and came upon this sight:

For at least 3 seconds I was simultaneously frightened and perplexed by the fact the Uni Bomber had snuck into my room, unawares, and swallowed my husband. Which is completely unacceptable. Not only does his presence sully my good name, but also my high thread count sheets. Whatever happened to common courtesy?

Once I had gathered my wits about me, I immediately:

1. Giggled/speed tiptoed down the hall to grab my camera and 2. Began a serious reconnaissance mission to gather information that might explain what the hell hubby was thinking.

Now, upon closer inspection.....

You will see that he chose to adorn his tired little peepers with my snazzy, Air Canada issued sleepy-sleep blinders. Which, as it was the middle of the day, I will give him.

However, the hood??

The best conclusion I can come to is that he was too tired to get up and close the window that I insist upon keeping open, come hell or high water, and needed to keep his brain from freezing.

Though, may I just point out Hubby, in case you are reading this.... somewhere, somewhere close by, in a very special, top secret place... you might, just maybe, find blankets to keep the harsh January winds at bay. But you'll have to figure that out on your own. I'll never tell.

All in all, a major crisis was averted. And eventhough since said major crisis wasn't actually a crisis as much as it was an active imagination... it still begs the question:

Where the hell is Homeland Security when you actually need them??

Granted, this is Canada and they generally shouldn't worry their pretty little heads with anything north of the 49th parallel......but still. Those are really nice sheets.

Note to Self:

Put some bottled water and maybe a toenail clipper in his hands. That would get them up here in a heart beat, I'll bet.

Note to Homeland Security:

My sincerest apologizes. Don't arrest me.