Conversations With Lex

Tonight it's just my oldest and me... hanging out while Shaun takes the other two on a double-ish date.  It's been a bit of a long day, and well, I'm ginormously pregnant.  So, while eating dinner, I remarked to the 5 year old,

"Man, I'm tired."

She grinned, pushed a chair towards me and said, "Would you like to put your feet up?"

Man, the kid knows me well.  But I continued,

"Nah, I'm just going to sleep here.  I'm going to put my head down and go to sleep. At the table. OK?"

"No, no mama, you can't sleep until Daddy gets home.  You need to watch me."

(Leave it to the first born to feel that way.  Caly would have been like, "OK!" and as soon as my eyes were closed, she'd have beelined for the chocolate).

I lifted my head and said, "Nah, you're a big girl, right?  You can watch yourself."

She gave me a look and flatly said, "Mama. I can't see myself.  Not unless I look in the mirror, mostly.  So... wake up."

Well.  Alrighty then.

(Is she my mini-me, or what!?)

For A VERY Pregnant Woman, This Could Incite a Tantrum

A few weeks ago, Shaun came home from work as usual and went back to change into comfy clothes to be a more effective child wrestler.  I heard him start snickering from the bathroom and raised my eyebrows.

I don't know about you, but generally, my bathroom experiences don't involve giggles.

Then he called me in there.

Um, my friends, in case you're not well-versed... being invited into the bathroom by your husband generally is not because he wants you to open the toothpaste.  And if he's giggling?  It's probably not because he's out of toilet paper, either.

But, I was brave.  So I ambled over and tentatively opened the door.  Nothing seemed amiss.  He was standing by the tub in his jeans and a white t-shirt.  Cracking up.

"Notice anything?"  He pointed at himself.

Nope.  He looked as normal as he does every single day.  "Uh, no?"

"Are you sure?"

I stared harder.  Then I noticed that his white t-shirt had a tiny pocket.  A decidedly feminine pocket.

"Hey... hey!  Is that-- IS THAT MY SHIRT!?"

He cracked up.  Apparently, my maternity shirts work delightfully well as men's undershirts.  He wore it almost all day before he got frustrated that it was a smidge too short and then realized it was mine.  Unfortunately for him, he didn't have a more masculine substitute so he finished out the day wearing Liz Lange Maternity.

And weirdly... it looked good on him.

Now, let's not even talk about how it makes the 5 foot tall, 9 month pregnant woman feel when she realizes her 6 foot tall, broad shouldered hubs shared a shirt with her.  A shirt that fits her well right now.  Let's not mention that at all.

At least when the laundry runs low, he has an adequate substitute.  Right?  RIGHT!?

*Ahem*

Now, someone pass me some cookies.  If I'm going to wear the shirt, I'm going to fill it out, darn it.

The I Am Nots

I find myself saying the weirdest things throughout the day.  Interestingly, most derive from having to explain to my children that while, yes, I am a super hero akin to Inspector Gadget, I am certainly not [insert whatever role they're trying to pin on me at the time] thankyouverymuch.

Heard in the Looney House in the past 24 hours:

• I am not a chew toy. Please stop gnawing on me.
• I am not a trampoline. You're not going to bounce very high.
• I am not made of glue. That paper is not going to stick to my face, I promise.
• I am not magic.  The pretzels are gone.  Like, really gone.  I can't make them come back.
• I am not a mind reader.  Please stop shrieking and tell me what you need.
• I am not a plant.  Pouring water on my head will not make me grow.
• I am not a Sherpa.  Please, please carry your own shoes.  And walk.
• I am not blind.  I totally saw you wack your sister in the head with a spoon.

(And these weird things don't even take into account the "Don't lick the dishwasher," "Please get your hair out of your nostrils," and "No, you may not serve yourself cereal in your shoe" comments that roll out daily, too).

Being a Mom is certainly never boring.

Good Morning To You, Too

This morning, upon seeing me groggily emerge from my nest of blankets and comforters, Bean looked up and me and chirped,

"Mama!  You look like a MONSTER!"

Gee, thanks kid. 

A Preggo Pic - 34 Weeks

For my adoring fans:

 

OK!  Ok, I KNOW that's sort of cheating.  Black is just so delightfully slimming.

Here's the side view.  And no, I did not swallow a 3 year old, though it may look like it.  

 

There, people.  Happy? 

Quirky Quirks

I think this quite possibly is my first meme ever, at least on this blog. 

Anyway, Kate at The Accidental Traveler tagged me on this one and hey, I'm quirky enough to number far more than 7 items, so I figured this would be a good filler until I can get C's update posted.  So here I go!

Seven Quirky Things About Myself
 
1. I chew on the inside seam of the collar of all t-shirts.  This one drives Shaun NUTS.  He hates, hates, HATES this.  Probably because I tend to wear his t-shirts and eventually, they get holes in the collar.  I don't know why I do this. 

2.  I talk to myself.  A lot.  And I always have.  Now I blame it on the kids, saying that I'm talking to them for the benefit of their speech development, but that's one big hairy lie.  I've always done it.  And I've been known to chat it up with myself in the middle of the grocery store SANS kids. 

3. I love medical shows on TV.  The gorier, the better.  I have a latent desire to be a doctor, so that's probably where it comes from.  But it makes me laugh when Shaun has to leave the room because it gets too gross and I'm absolutely entranced. 

4.  Despite totally having the stomach for blood and guts and all sorts of medical gore, I can't even begin to describe how skeeved out I get at the grossness that collects in the sink drain.  Moving to a house that doesn't have a garbage disposal is a serious problem.  I've been known to scrub down the entire kitchen, but leave the nasties in the sink for Shaun to deal with.  Scrub a toilet?  Fine.  Get the goo out of the sink catch?  Find someone else.  

5.   I can generally tell the time within a few minutes without looking at a watch.  I haven't put this to the test since C was born, which is probably a good thing since there are days when I don't even remember my own name. 

6.  I like corn in/on everything.  Salsa, tacos, tuna, pizza, soup, etc.  You name it and as long as it isn't sweet, I like it with corn.  (Ok, cornbread is sweet...  mmmm, cornbread).

7.  I have a really hard time either starting a thought at the beginning or finishing a thought at the end.  But only out loud.  It makes sense to me.  But apparently, starting to speak in the middle of a sentence and ending before it's finished doesn't make a whole lot of sense to most people.  Why ever not?

Ok, that's that!  I tag Jess @ Lily of the Palms,  AmyB @ Remember to Play, and Maya at Springtree Road.