Lumpyhead and I Ate Them All Anyway

This afternoon I came across a forgotten can of Pringles. I tasted one and noted, to no one in particular, "These are stale."

Then I added my favorite Electricyoak expletive: "Fucksticks."

Lumpyhead saw me with potato chips and and piped up. "I want fucksticks too!"

"Nice," Bump muttered.

First day home and I'm already teaching them shit they're not going to learn from their father.

I'll Do Better From Now On

So, that bedrest thing. Here's the deal: we still went to that wedding in South Carolina last weekend. I didn't defy my doctor, necessarily, but it wasn't high on her list of Recommended Things To Do on Bedrest. In fact, I don't think it made the list at all. She didn't outright forbid me to go, but pointed out there was no medical benefit to going to the wedding. There was probably some medical benefit to staying home. (Now that I think about it, she mentioned maybe going to the wedding but not the reception, so she might not have realized we were traveling for this event. Let's just keep that between us, shall we?)

So, equating "eight hours in the car" with "day at the office" - which my doctor expressly told me I could do - we departed. Fifteen minutes into the trip, I started to panic. Not about going into premature labor, but about a SIXTEEN HOUR ROAD TRIP with the tormentors. What the hell was I thinking? I thought this was a good idea? Christ, I'm dumb.

But the trip was wonderful. Really, the drive wasn't that bad, and I say that with the trip fresh in my memory. I'm not even blocking the trauma. Not that I'm jonesing to hop in the car again with my two small children and two large ankles, but it was certainly bearable.

The wedding itself was fantastic. The couple was adorable and the bride's family was joyous and the groom's family blended in with them so well it was impossible to tell who was who without asking. Childhood friend of the bride from Columbia? College friend of the couple from Dallas? Nope, groom's cousin from Iowa and his fiancee from Charlotte. It was lovely to see such a diverse group of people with so much in common come together. Truly a tribute to an amazing couple.

I'm rocking the bedrest today - work is slow so I'm not going into the office this week - making up for my rather loose interpretation of doctor's orders this weekend. I'm doing very little in the way of child care, but whenever I start contracting I drink lots of water and lie down.

I'll tell you more later about traveling with two kids and surviving, the dress I wore to the wedding, palmetto bugs, and the best babysitting karma ever (which confirmed that I was totally supposed to go on this trip). Bump may even write a post on an awesome museum for kids in Columbia.

In the meantime, I'm on Twitter (but I think I'm doing it wrong since I don't have text messaging on my phone or blackberry, so am checking Twitter via the web). Entertain me.

Balls

Despite the fact that this pregnancy seems to be progressing exactly as the other two have, I have been put on "strict preterm labor precautions."

Bedrest.

It seems I am old. Those seventeen months that have elapsed since pregnancy #2 are apparently a Big Deal because I am now over 35. Symptoms that previously warranted a "take it easy and call us if you go into labor for real" now mean modified bedrest.

Because I feel fine – well, exactly as I did with the other two pregnancies anyway – I'm not that concerned, more annoyed than anything else. I've been cleared for work, so long as it's "desk only," but at home am supposed to lie down constantly. I think my doctor realizes I am more likely to be physically inactive at work than at home with two kids.

Ugh.

Smash

Scored a free babysitter and saw the Incredible Hulk last night.

Bump and I narrowed our choices to either the extraordinarily likable Steve Carell in Get Smart or the extraordinarily lickable Edward Norton in Hulk. When we got to the theater, Hulk was starting right then, but Get Smart started in 30 minutes, so Hulk won.

It wasn't bad actually. Very adequate summer blockbuster. Lots of CGI, some funny moments, definitely worth the effort if you've got a free babysitter.

Also: Lou Ferrigno. Much to my surprise, he's not dead. He looks a lot better than I would have guessed (not a high hurdle, I suppose, since I thought he was dead).

What Happens in Vegan -- Wait, Nobody Wants to Know What Happens in Vegans

I was chatting with Electricyoak yesterday about a possible trip he's taking later in the summer. I meant to type "Vegas, baby" but typed "Vegan" instead.

What a horrible, horrible mistake that would be. Can you imagine, planning to go to the Strip but ending up in a land without cheese?

That would really suck.

So You Acknowledge That Your Dancing Skills Are Pitiful, Coming Soon to ABC

Lumpyhead orders us around a lot, and like suckers, we often obey his commands.

This morning he was playing with Bump's Fathers Day card (are your kids as sucked in by the musical greeting cards as mine are? Damn) when he commanded "Papa sing the words."

Lumpyhead and Lula usually dance to this card - an awesome blend of jumping and writhing - so Bump and I started wriggling as Bump sang.

This apparently displeased His Majesty - he had ordered singing, after all, not dancing - so Lumpyhead yelled "No! Mama and Papa you can NOT dance."

"You're tellin' me, Buddy," Bump responded, as we both continued to flop around like fish gasping for oxygen.

I don't think Lumpyhead got the joke.

Triumph Has Nothing on Lumpyhead

When the tormentors have the misfortune of riding in my car (as opposed to the Nirvana on Wheels that is Papa's Car), Lumpyhead spends most of the drive asking for things that Bump stocks as car standards but I don't carry.

"I want animal crackers." Sorry Bud. No crackers. I might have a breath mint, though.

"I want to listen to ABCs music." Um, don't have that, either. How about some All Things Considered? I bet Robert Siegel could take They Might be Giants in a knife fight.

Last night, though, I was able to whip out a tiny box of animal crackers that I had stashed in my glove box. (Yay! Gold star for Plan Ahead Mama!) While they were a different brand than Lumpyhead is used to, he took great delight in pulling out animals and announcing what they were.

"It's a hippopotamus!" Okay. Hi hippopotamus.

"It's an otter!" Really? They make otters?

While I totally rocked the animal cracker test, I still don't have any CDs in my car. When the demand for MUSIC descended from on high, Plan Ahead Mama choked. My usual default is the classical station, but "No LIKE violin music" and "No LIKE piano music" left me surfing the horrible easy listening options on over-the-air radio.

"It's guitar music." Yep, we found some James Taylor.

Following James Taylor? Kokomo by the Beach Boys.

"It's Papa music!"

HA! Your father is going to be so pissed when I tell him. Which I am going to do the very minute I see him, because: HA!

Bump was indeed horrifically insulted when I relayed the story.

And he should be insulted. Bump's taste in music is very cool.* (Mine is not. I knew all the words to Kokomo.)

*For Lumpyhead to POOP ON

Oh, and lest you think my children are still sitting in my car from Saturday: I totally nailed the Double-Nap Transfer. I left the car running and took Lula in, put her in bed, then went back out for Lumpyhead. I realize a car thief could have jumped in and driven off with my son (and his camel), but I took the risk. I went with Lula first, thinking that Lumpyhead was less likely to be traumatized if he woke up in the car by himself.

Now if I can just remember to put a CD in my car. Also, I need to get another box of animal crackers. Do they make an All Otter version? Because apparently otters are the tastiest. Except I don't think that was really an otter.

Help a Mother Out, Part III

While Bump was out buying the van, I took the tormentors to Linda's pool. We wore them out so successfully that during the 10-minute drive home, they both fell asleep.

Yeah, Lumpyhead's holding a camel. Just, um, yeah.

Ordinarily, this is a cause for great celebration, (Both! Asleep! At the same time! Woo hoo!) but I was completely stumped about how to get them into the house and into their beds.

Bump has attempted the fabled Double-Nap Transfer in the past, rarely with complete success. I am a fumbling rookie at this.

For those of you with more than one child: how do you get them both out of the car? Actually, I don't care if you have any children. To anyone who is good at logistics: how would you go about getting two sleeping kids from the parking lot to their cribs?

This is going to be even worse when we have three.

While I'm on the subject - especially for those of you with twins - what do you do when both of your kids are crying at the same time? I can't believe it hasn't come up before, but the other night I was stuck with two wailing children, neither of whom could be adequately comforted with one arm. They both yowled until Bump returned home - which took only ten minutes but felt like hours - and I should probably have a better solution at the ready when it happens again.

Sorry If This Is TMI

I've heard that pregnancy is supposed to give you vivid and erotic dreams. That hasn't really happened for me.

I guess all that blogging about body shots must have done the trick, because last night I finally had a sex dream.

The Star? Bump.

I think I did it wrong.


No offense, Honey. I think you're hott - and so does my subconscious, obviously - but having a sex dream about your husband is like using a vacation day to go to the office.

Not that you're "work." Um, quick! Somebody give me a better analogy.

I Blew Through $50,000 On Saturday. You?

Bump bought a minivan on Saturday. We planned to wait until we settled into the new house, but
1) who knows when that great event will happen;
2) we will definitely need the van by the time Baby 3 arrives, and that event is somewhat date-certain;
3) we are taking a trip to SC at the end of the month. Bump didn't think his jeep would make it, and we certainly couldn't fit everything into my Civic.

So, we pulled the trigger. Bump employed Esther the Daytime Babysitter last Thursday and went shopping. He found a 2004 Odyssey with low mileage, no funny smells, and a DVD player. He went back and bought it on Saturday.

The van is nearly the same color Bump's jeep was. The interior is exactly the same color. Bump kept his old tags, so it's like his jeep simply morphed into a van.

Lumpyhead is very entertained by the automatic sliding doors. "Whooaa! They open and close and everything! Whoa!" He's gonna lose his shit when we show him the DVD player.

--

Our condo is now under contract. WOOT! (We didn't spend $50k on just a minivan.) We sold it for 10% less than the original listing price, but got to spend Sunday without worrying about last-minute showings.

Bump's not sure what to do with himself today, now that he doesn't have to keep the house clean. I'm just happy to have trash cans again. (Can anyone tell me why trash cans are so offensive to potential house-buyers? Why must a staged house have no trash cans? Wait, don't tell me. I don't care. I don't HAVE to care anymore. Whoo hoo!)

--

So. We have a van. We have a buyer. Now we just need a house.

--

Oh! Also. In the middle of blowing through $50,000 we went to a children's concert. It was about 1000 times less hideous than I thought it was going to be. Lula was wiggly the whole time and Lumpyhead just stood there staring like a drunk at a strip joint, but I think they had fun. Most importantly, I did not spend the entire time wanting to shove a pen in my eyeball, which is how I expected to spend the concert.

Probably because the performer was kinda hot.

Because I'm completely inappropriate, let me say that this cherubic children's entertainer can get right up there on the body shot table after Edward Norton hops off. Just saying.