Possibilities

Sunday will be Mike's and my seventh anniversary. SEVEN!!! We'll celebrate the occassion by taking two probably grumpy babies to my work picnic and carting them around in crowds and heat.

Ha ha, just kidding. Well, we WILL do that. But first we'll celebrate for real. Because Libby is a saint on earth, she agreed to babysit Saturday night so we could go out. WITHOUT KIDS. WITHOUT PREGNANT BELLY. And, so help me, WITHOUT GUILT.

Erin and Tim had done this for us just before Rachel was born, and that was great. But there's one thing this date night will have that was missing before. Just one little detail...ALCOHOL.

So, internet friends, what should we DOOOO??

Because we don't go out and because if we do it involves the worlds "sports" and "bar", I don't know where we should eat or what cute little place we should go for drinks after?

Or, if we go the more high brow route, what good movies are out now? You know, that you would go see, if you could, if you weren't at home caring for one or two babies (my readership is as housebound as I am, I fear).

Or if you don't have comments, at least vote in my poll. Need all the help I can get after seven years.

I Thought I Grew Up When I Stopped Watching the Real World

But I realize I have not because I am still addicted to bad reality TV. As evidenced by the fact that I just got up, left the room where my husband's watching TV, so I could come into the bedroom to watch the second episode of the night of Tori and Dean: Home Sweet Hollywood.

It's odd how simple demographics can make you feel like this (crossing my two fingers together, ala we are tight) with B list celebs you have never met. They have a toddler son and are expecting (well, now have, as of June I guess) a new daughter just like us. Also they were moving in the middle of her third trimester.

Thought interspersed with discussions about Tori's jewelry sales on QVC and what color to choose for their real silk tailored curtains and how many millions they can afford for the new house...well, the rest of the discussions could be right out of house.

When you're pregnant no matter who you are or what hot sh*t life you lead, there's a lot of boring and leveling talk about contractions, doctor visits, eating too much, gaining too much weight, and, if you're pregnant with #2, how are you gonna manage it all. Former 90210 mogul daughters are no exception apparently and I find some odd comfort in that.

Though I do know, oh yes, that it's so wrong to watch it and especially to justify it and philosophize about it.

This Can't Be a Real Letter

This column and the response really cracked me up and had me nodding. And I don't care if you're a stay at home mom, a part-time working mom or full time outta the house late for work downtown every damn morning mom. If you're in charge of some little person, this applies to YOU.

My favorite part is about needing 45 minutes for something that takes 15. Explains why it took me 30 minutes to get myself and one 2 foot person ready for a 50 minute visit for the pool the other day.

Matthew's Irish Twin

I can't help it, when I see my friend Kate's baby John, who was born just short of 11 months after Matthew, I can't help thinking of Matthew in his first few months.


I took the almost exact same picture when Matthew was a little guy. (Granted this post would be a lot more charming if I had that picture anywhere handy to post it.) It just made me laugh to see, us moms all think alike. Erin's done the same thing with Bridget. "I've got this pile of stuffed animals and he doesn't even care about it so (UGH - loading up stuff animals on baby noise) here you go, kid. Kodak moment time."

Then I saw THIS picture of the little man pushing himself up and I completely had another nostalgia moment for my own son when he was just a tiny little guy.


I remember taking a zillion photos of Matthew on his playmat, and it being so exciting when he was pushing himself up. They finally start to take on their Kid format vs. their Baby format and it's just SO much fun to watch.

Then I saw this, which just about put me over the edge.


Because in our house, as well as Tim and Erin's, and now Kate's, dogs are integral. Everything is baby and dogs and paws and bottles and dog hair and dogs stepping on babies and babies sticking hands into dogs mouths and it's just ONE BIG DOGGY BABY MESSY love fest. Having dogs and babies makes for twice the mess but ten times the fun. Well, not that I'd know the difference. But that's my position as a dog owner, twice over, and if I let my mind wander to how life could be better/different/CLEEEEANNNERRRRRRR without said dogs, I'd have to question our thinking and possibly sanity to have so many live bodies jammed into 1200 square feet.

Anyway - Kate is my best friend from high school and it's been thrilling to see all the photos of her little man John growing up these past few months. We have kept in touch since high school, and we've known each other since junior high. When THOSE friends are having babies, well, you're not just old, you're OLD and grown-up and officially into the next life phase.

It's not like when your co-worker has kids, or even your college or post-college friends. This is border line babies having babies (and I'm sure Kate felt the same way about me) to see your friend that you discovered curling irons and boys and sneaking beers and crying because you didn't get invited to the slumber party and hating high school and counting the days until graduation ... those friends ... having kids. It's the end of the line, we're here, college days ain't coming back, we have mortgages and spend the weekend "working on the yard" and running super fun errands like buying dog food and going to Sam's. We aren't kids anymore, and we ain't never gonna be again.

I wouldn't have it any other way. It's exciting and joyful and just all around, makes for a wonderful life. But (before anyone accuse moi of being cheesy) it's a huge huge huge change. And it was great talking to Kate for about TWO HOURS about this the other night. On the one hand, it was totally normal to talk about breastfeeding and birth stories and crazy (read: incredibly obnoxious) nurses bossing us around in the hospital. On the other hand, the whole time I'm thinking, is she holding her baby? Is my 13 year old friend KATE holding her CHILD while I'm talking to her? And is my ONE YEAR OLD still asleep in his BABY crib in his room? You see what I'm getting at. Just when you accept this complete life change as normal ... someone goes and pops out another kid and you're talking to them about "getting the kids together."

And you realize Kate's no longer just Kate, she's John's mommy, just like you're MATTHEW'S MOMMY and you will be in charge of that honor for the rest of your life.

But no pressure or anything ...