Signed, Sealed, Gender-Assigned

I had my ultrasound today (see back later for a scanned picture). It was the world's longest ultrasound, and to be honest, I grew kind of bored after a while. I know I should have been in awe and had my eyes peeled to the monitor, but that is just not me, I don't get that emotional in front of other people (unless I'm really pissed - see below for example). Then someone else came into the room...it was another technician and she took over, zooming around, correcting some mistakes the first technician made. It was then that I realized the first one was in training and that's why it was taking so long.

Jacob and Zach were with me, of course, and Jacob was through the roof. He was much more excited than I thought he'd be, like I wasn't sure he'd get it but he did just fine. And he patiently sat for a whole hour, taking it all in and squealing with glee.

I told the technicians that we don't want to know the SEX (foreshadowing) but could they please write it on a piece of paper so that I may take it home should I change my mind. It turns out it was one of those ultrasounds where you can't tell for sure and the technician told me so but still wrote her guess on the piece of paper. She took it to another room to get an envelope and then came back and gave me the envelope containing the piece of paper. On the outside of the envelope she wrote: "Gender".

She wrote Gender.

95% of you will not understand what I am saying. One person who reads my blog will hopefully commiserate with me, and anyone else who gets it only will because you know me in person and know what a hot button this is for me.

Let me explain. A description of sex is as follows: XY or XX. Gender is "a socially constructed notion of what is feminine and what is masculine." (taken from the Indiana University website) Gender is not sex. Yes, the two tend to go hand in hand, but not without exception.

This wasn't bothering me as much this afternoon, but I am particularly worked up about it right now because I just got done writing a big long 'academic' blurb about it for my class. Last night I had to read an essay by Paul Theroux, On Being a Man and write a response to it. Tonight my professor responded to it, bringing up all sorts of sex vs gender questions and got me all fired up. So I just had to respond back and I think I'm about to tear my hair out.

Let me explain about my class for a minute: I am the only student in the class. I didn't get around to mentioning that before because it didn't matter. Apparently there are normally 10-15 students in this class, allowing for the back-and-forth discourse on the forums. This time it's just me. I didn't find that out until Day 2 of the class (and by then I was so freaked out about the class that I thought I might be able to use that as leverage to get out of the class and get my money back...but I am sticking it out). Anyway, I actually think it's working to my benefit in that I get to have one-on-one 'computer conversations' with the professor everyday.

So back to pulling my hair out - my professor brought up a few things for discussion, for instance blue vs pink and the genders they are assigned to, boys being given trucks and girls being given dolls, boys being criticized for showing affection. I think she may have broken into my brain. Either that, or it is incredibly ironic that someone I don't even know would bring up three things in the same sentence that could immediately send my blood pressure to an unnatural high.

And so now I am back to the place I was at early last year where I blogged about Jacob getting the Big Bird stamp at gymnastics (this is just one of the many examples). It's still happening and it pisses me off more and more every time. Incase you don't remember, they make a big freaking deal about putting away the princess stamp before giving the boys their stamps. Jacob always walks out of there with a 'boyish' stamp, and the worst part is he has gotten used to it. He no longer wants the princess stamp. Even though I have done my damnedest to make ours a gender-neutral home, the world at-large has gotten to him. And I am deeply saddened.

But let me just say for the record, because I couldn't say it in my 'academic' writing, that when Jacob and his friend *Nick* were parting ways today they (both boys) gave each other a kiss to say goodbye and my heart almost exploded.

Freedom of Speech

So this week my mom and Jamie have been watching Jacob a lot for me so I can get school work done. Zach's been in and out of the house a couple times while Jacob was gone and we got to talk. I think we communicated more in those five minute stints than we usually do in an entire month. We could talk without distraction or interruptions, and I realized the main thing is that we could openly swear. This is a big thing for me...I am a big swearer and I've spent the last 4+ years trying (without always succeeding) to suppress this. Without having to repress every fifth word I want to use, the flow of conversation came so much more naturally. Isn't that awful? Anyway, it gave us some insight into what kind of a couple we would be without children. Much more calm, clear-minded, intelligent people, but not half as good as being Jacob's parents.

A little distraction...

I'm trying to be good here. I'm trying to sit down in the evening and get to work on my class. Concentrate, focus, etc, etc. Zach is being very dutiful and is taking care of Jacob in the evenings so I can be off 'mom' duty. But the problem now is that I can't get off of mom duty in terms of this baby.

It starts around 7 or 8pm and continues mildly until about 11pm when the house is finally quiet and I can really get down to business - the baby starts flipping circles and going crazy. And it's so wild that one simply cannot ignore it. It's absolutely impossible to sit here and focus on work at times like that. And there's nothing I can do about it...I can't say, "Here, take the baby for a while." Cuz for now this is all mine.

This Week

So I started my online grad course. Like I said earlier in the week, I don't know what I was thinking...but I've been thinking on that and I decided that even though this is so freaking hard right now, I'm probably in the right place. I loved college, and I will eventually love this class - when it is over. Plus I feel like it's been a long time since I've accomplished anything real and measurable, that counts for something. I think I just wanted to prove I could do something with my life if I really put my mind to it.

I don't think this class is going to lead to the start of a program in the very near future, but I think in a way I signed up for it because I'm afraid to let 'school' be something to is too far in the past to pick up with again. So in this way I'm keeping education a part of my present life to make it more of a conceivable thing when I am ready to commit to a program. Not to mention this will be earning me credit toward an eventual degree. I already have three credits from a psychology course I took two years ago...so I'm getting there.

Also, I think even though this course work stress is unbelievable, and the work itself is incredibly challenging, it's given me a break from thinking about the usual daily stress of my life. So when the class is over my normal life will feel like a breeze. And it really is a breeze compared to this, but it hasn't felt that way lately and I think it's because I needed a little perspective and a little structure...so either way this is good...I just have to keep telling myself that.

I don't think I left the house all week except to take Jacob to gymnastics on Thursday and to the book club on Wednesday. Jacob's been getting out with other people, having a great time, but I've been holed up here at the computer for like five hours or more a night. I am so tired already I could sleep for a week straight.

Today we did get out because even though I could use an entire weekend of Zach being home so I can focus on all the reading (in preparation for all the writing I have to do during the week), he is still painting full days. Jacob and I went to the bookstore and then to a coffee shop (at his request). I got him a hot chocolate in a real 'for here' mug and we settled into some soft chairs. I did some reading and Jacob just likes to sit there watching people. I had trouble concentrating because I was watching how adorable Jacob was drinking his hot chocolate like a little adult. And when I paid attention I could see that other people were noticing too. One lady was walking away from the counter with her coffee in hand, watching Jacob drink his drink so carefully that she ran into a table.

As we were getting ready to leave an older man came along to the table and told me that Jacob is a fine young man, then he turned his attention to Jacob, introduced himself, shook Jacob's hand and asked him his name. Then they exchanged some pleasantries about the day and the man was on his way. i was so proud I could have cried! I think it's awesome that there are people out there who can really appreciate a child in public like that, and think highly enough of the situation, enough to make them unable to resist coming over to chat with my son. I wish there were more places in public where children were treated with such dignity.

Maybe not as dumb as we think...

When we adopted the dogs I had to upgrade all our trash cans to these ones with tops on them because you-know-who would get into them and eat all the garbage within. As long as they have their tops on, we've been good to go in that department. Unfortunately for those of us in the house who do the picking up (me) it is cold season and there is nothing Mango loves more than to snack on dirty Kleenex's. I'm serious, if there was a juicy bone laying on the floor alongside of the snot-filled Kleenex, Mango will go for the snot rag (I've never actually tested this).

Anyway, I guess the fact that the garbage is filled with all kinds of 'wintry goodies' has made Mango extra motivated to get into the cans. I don't know how she does it, but at least once a day, per garbage can, I walk into the room and the contents are spewed all over the floor. The top to trash can 'exhibit A' will be laying by the side of the can. The one labeled 'exhibit B' of course closes by itself. I have never caught Mango breaking in like this but I'm guessing she probably pokes her head in through the hole, gets it stuck, pulls away from the can and the top goes with her head. She most likely then shakes off the lid and she's all set to go to town on the contents.

With the one whose lid lifts, I'm pretty sure that she uses her damn food to just open the thing like it was intended for a human to do. I'm almost positive about this because while I've never seen her do it, if I am near enough I can hear the lid lifting and I rush into the bathroom to catch the culprit red-pawed and slowly backing away from the garbage.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

"A Person with Kids Lives Here"

That's the headline I feel like I've just declared to the people to whom I'm mailing a very important document. My schoolwork is done for the day and as my last act before I collapse into bed was (because now I am back on the computer) going to be sealing up this envelope with the contents enclosed that I was waiting for a witness to sign. I turned it over to lick the envelope and there was smeared, dried glitter all over the back. The glitter prevented proper 'sealing' to take place so I went to the drawer for the roll of tape. I pulled out a piece, stuck it on, and then examined my handy work. There are at least half a dozen dog hairs plastered under the stuck-on tape.

Some days there is just no hiding the true nature of your life. I expect if it were next year at this time that letter would be going out with some kind of bodily fluid applied to it (and I'm not talking the saliva used to lick it) - baby poo, breast milk, blood of some sort...there's no getting around it. These are the hallmarks of motherhood. And suddenly I can see what the next 15 years of my life look like.

A little birdie...

At the bird feeder:

Working up an appetite

I don't know what I was thinking, but I signed up for this online course...Elements of Scholarship...so vague, and I so did not realize what I was getting into. I'm tired of wasting time. I want to have a Master's someday so I thought I could maybe do this online Master's program, I don't know, in between all the things I do with Jacob, for the house, for the animals, and then there's the homeschooling, and oh yeah, having a baby.

Anyway, I've done this and now I have to deal with it. Or I could just procrastinate. And that's how Jacob got to dancing Flashdance style in the middle of the living room. In an effort to hold off the sinking feeling that I get when I sit down to the computer and realize I have no idea what I'm doing, I decided to clean out some old CD's. I don't know how Shakira got in there, but I pulled it out of the stack and popped it into the CD player to make sure it's ok to get rid of. Apparently Jacob really likes it, enough to dance like crazy and pull off all his clothes layer by layer. I turned around and he was missing his pants; I came back from the kitchen and his underwear had been flung to the floor; a glance up from the keyboard and he was buck-naked.

This is what the kids do

Last week things finally picked up again in the friends department. Jacob suddenly wants to be around other kids all the time now, but for the few weeks surrounding the holidays everyone seemed to disappear for a while. But like I said, last week was full of other kids and things to do with other kids. Beckie and I took our boys skating on Wednesday and then afterwards they all came back to our house for a 'little bit'. And this is what the kids do. They're playing and things are all good, but calm enough that you think a five minute warning will be well-received. They even come over and cooperate while you put their shoes on. But you just want to finish your conversation because it's been so long since you've spoken face-to-face with another adult. And this is suddenly made possible because the kids are finally quiet, behaving, docile.

So the kids take off again playing and you barely notice because you've moved on to new and important topics of conversation like who is still wetting the bed and how many times each night, or why your two year-old has these wicked tantrums...am I screwing him up? Then things get quiet again and you both admit it's time for the naps, and the other has to accompany his mother to the store. So they come willingly again and put their coats on, but again something else comes to mind that you wanted to talk about...and so the kids go off again, without you really realizing what they've done.

You're talking away and suddenly you notice it's too quiet in the house, almost like there are no kids in the house. And as it turns out, there really are none in the house because the children have let themselves out of the house. Just unlocked the door by themselves and went right out to the backyard in their socks (just where did those shoes go that you already put on them?) because when kids are together, they do things that they would never dream of doing on their own. But this time they know that they have something very powerful on their side: Cuteness. And they know they will not get into trouble, because when moms are together, they allow things that they would never allow if they were on their own.

And this is what they do, they lull you into believing that you will get out the door in just a minute. The are calm and quiet just long enough for another wave of conversation to get started and for you to think that maybe five more minutes will be ok. And they keep doing it because they know you will see how much fun they are having (and they can see how much fun you are having) and give in because when one husband is out of town and the other is working at 14 hour day moms tend to do things like that. They are lenient because they don't want to be alone and they know that it will be tomorrow and you will all be off to college and the days for things like this will be too far long gone to even remember what it was like.

Those very same kids will get away with the same thing the very next day too because it will be a different location and their will be one more set of kids added to the mix. So you will be standing there with the coats in your arm because you know you have overstayed your welcome, the kids screaming so loud, running back and forth between the crowd of mothers that you can't even hear yourself giving out instructions for pea soup that the other has been asking for. You might even end up staying long past their bedtime because you can see how much fun they are having.

And they'll get away with it again the next day at the coffee shop, even after you can see that you've become that group of mothers, the ones who take up space and break the picture frame that is balanced on the self that's up against the wall. You complain about the cost of a cup of hot chocolate, but you don't really care because you think of it as renting the space where you're all able to be together, out of the house. The kids keep crossing their pre-determined boundary with race cars that they're zooming around with, but eventually you stop caring because you realize that all the other people are (miraculously) smiling at them. And you push your stay just as long as you can, only leaving because if you go now you'll have just enough time to get to the bus stop to meet your older child (if you don't hit any red lights). You let your eight year old stay in the car (in full view) watching a DVD and when you go to leave you realize it drained your battery and now you must have the car jumped, but you decide it was still worth it for just a little time with the other moms.

On some days this is what it's like with the moms I know, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Perhaps a trade?

I've just been over to Stacey's blog and I see this. It's hard to believe such a staple wouldn't be available in stores anymore, but I do believe it because when we were on our trip out west I found some things in the stores that I haven't been able to find around here. Seems like the place I lucked out at most was Safeway. I can't remember all the things I found, but one was Smuckers Simply Fruit, which I can no longer find anywhere around here.

One that I have never been able to find anywhere around here, but I found in South Dakota is the kind of coffee filter in the exact specifications I have always wanted. I have a small coffee maker, so I need the 4-cup, basket style filters, and I want them unbleached. For some reason they just don't make that size in that style in anything but bleached. Except at the Safeway in SD. I bought a couple of packages and have now used them up. I remember when I first came home from the trip and told Jamie about it, he remarked that I should have gotten more of them (he, too, is mystified by our inability to locate them). So at Christmastime I was thinking I would look them up on the internet and buy a whole box of them for him for Christmas. I must have spent two or three hours cumulative on trying to locate basket-style, 4-cup size unbleached coffee filters. Apparently they don't exist. I even got on the Safeway website to see if I could order them from there but the website would not even let me in without a zip code. I put in the zip code belonging to the town in which I got the original coffee filters and it still wouldn't let me in. I actually started a post about it because I was so frustrated and thought maybe somebody out there in Blogland might have some insight.

Anyway, that's the story behind my hard-to-find item...

Baby Dreams and Ice Cream

In the last week I've started to feel the baby move. It's freaky. This is a little sooner than I felt it with Jacob. I'm also having a lot of baby dreams. I've been dreaming about the sex of the baby a little, but last week was the most vivid of the dreams. In the dream I'd had the technician write down the baby's sex on a piece of paper so that I could look at it later if I wanted to. I did finally look at it one day and it said I was having a boy, and I felt disappointed (in the dream, this is). I feel bad that I was disappointed in the dream, but better in my dream than in real life I guess.

Zach and I hold the stance that we do not find out the sex of our babies. We like to be traditional in that way since it seems like there are so few people who choose to be surprised anymore. Most people just ask me if I know yet what the sex is, rather than asking if I will be finding out. But I am tempted this time.

The scenario with the technician is actually pretty close to what I think will end up happening in reality. I think I might just have her write it down incase I decide I want to find out. A friend told me today that is exactly what she did. Her husband looked at it and she did not. I told her that I was surprised she could manage the temptation and she told me a little trick. She said to put the piece of paper in a baggie, seal it up and then freeze it in a container of water. That way if you decide you want to know you have to at least wait the few hours for it to thaw and perhaps in the meantime your moment of temptation will pass. I think that is hilarious, I mean a perfect idea! Beckie chimed in that she's heard of people doing that with their credit cards to eliminate the possibility of impulse purchases. That's gotta be the best thought-up thing since sliced bread.

Anyway, the ice cream thing has nothing to do with any of the baby stuff, except for the fact that it rhymes. Jacob got one of those ice cream makers that is like a big ball and you roll it around for 30 minutes and then you have ice cream. It was freakin awesome! I mean if you just want ice cream please just go to the store and get it, but if you want the experience of making ice cream and working for your pleasure, the half an hour was definitely worth it. It was like Breyers, that natural taste, you know? Oh, and I cannot WAIT to get the Girl Scout cookies we just ordered (they won't come until the end of February) because I am going to make some Thin Mint ice cream...and I swear that will be the highlight of my month!

A Trial Run

So today I started watching a little baby - just three days a week for the month of January. She's three months old, and it was very short notice but not a big deal. It's actually kind good timing because I still have enough energy for that kind of thing and it will be good practice for what's coming. I think the best part of it is that I'll get to see how Jacob reacts. And boy was he excited. he doted on the baby all day long, getting her toys, pushing her in the little swing, talking to her. He hardly left her side, and infact, when he did he said, "Mommy, I have to go to the batroom. Can you watch the baby for me while I'm gone?" I'm glad I know who's in charge around here...

A Stark Contrast

Sunday:

Tuesday:

There was a fifty degree raise in temperature over the course of two days. We played outside, left the house without coats, started thinking about spring. And now, before I could even get the pictures uploaded, the weather is on its way back to normal January frigidness. What a tease.

Who used to tie my shoes? OR: Things I formerly took for granted.

Zach was finally home at a decent hour today. It was the first time since Christmas day that he hasn't worked 12-14 hours so we left the house to do some errands together. I was struggling to get my shoes on and tied, which is becoming increasingly difficult as I am beginning to have trouble bending over. We were both laughing at me and the senior-citizen sounds I was making, and I started talking about not being able to wait till it's slip-on shoe weather and all that. Then we both wondered how I ever got my shoes on when I was pregnant with Jacob. Who tied them then?

I honestly can't remember. I had forgotten about all those little things that you take for granted before you lose your waistline. Pretty soon I'll be bemoaning the fact that I can no longer sleep on my stomach.

He's been living with me for too long

I had a coupon for some kind of Tyson pre-cooked sirloin tips and since I don't like cooking meat, in the cart it went. Often I cook my vegetarian 'fake meat' and Zach's gotten pretty used to that, but there's still a huge difference between tofu and animal flesh. So last night I made the Tyson stuff for dinner and when Zach got done eating he asked, "That was good. Was it real meat or fake meat?"

What ifs...

"Mommy, will we still have these doggies when the baby comes?"

"Yes."

"But what if they start rough-housing and run over the baby?"

"Well we won't leave the baby on the floor."

"Well what if the baby is in the crib (we don't even have a crib) and Mango comes in and starts growling at the baby?"

"I don't think that will happen."

"Well if it does happen, I'll come in and start blowing my train whistle at Mango to get her out of there. Cuz I take care of things like that."

A Refreshing Conversation

In Target the other day a lady in line behind us asked how old Jacob is. I told her. I waited. She didn't look surprised. Her response was that she has a granddaughter who is almost four. Then she asked if he is in pre-school. I told her no, we are homeschooling. I waited. She looked happy. She exclaimed that that sounded so nice. So many people are doing that these days, better than sending them to school (she said with a wrinkled nose), or some comment to that effect. Then she asked another question about it and wished us a good day as we walked away smiling.

It's nice to have a stranger on my side for once.

And I'm happy to report that someone today asked me when I am due. She started the conversation just like that, as in she didn't already know I am pregnant. So at least some people can tell.

A conversation in the car today...

"Jacob, want some kids' music on?"

"Nah. Just some Bob Dylan."

Dear Jacob: December 2007

Dear Jacob,

I've been procrastinating this monthly post again. Ironically, the thing that has finally brought me to finish it is the fact that I am currently postponing finishing the essay for my grad school application (what's that you say? Yes, I am crazy).

While I've been procras- tinating, you've suddenly become an adult. You let the dogs out at will, the house cleaning has continued, except now you don't even ask us first. Help yourself to stuff in the fridge, open the shades in the moring, turn on the TV without asking, unlock the front door - and if I didn't have a baby lock-knob-thing on it you would be letting yourself out of the house, and probably into the car and down the road to the store!

You love getting dressed and are very into being neat these days. You tuck in your shirt, put on a belt, brush your hair. You've been telling me you need your hair cut, even after you've just been to the barber shop with Papa. That's your thing with him. You guys also play barber shop a lot in between hair cuts.

Although you like getting dressed by yourself in the morning all big-boyish, the putting away of the clothes needs some work. When you undress your clothes either end up in a hidden corner of the house, or if you have a direct target when you're taking them off they get thrown in the face of the person standing nearby.

You won't leave the damn dogs alone. You have to intervene when they are rough- housing with each other. You think Mango is attacking Ginger and you tell her she is bad. I tell you to stop and you just stand there with your fists clenched at your sides, ready to pounce. You groan a little that you can't beat her up and stare with this evil look on your face then run past her, skimming her side and almost knocking her over. Then you scream and tear around the house. What the hell?


I guess I can't blame you for the some of the recent behavior. I don't know what's gotten into your father, but sometimes he'll pull such stupid stunts in front of you that all I can do is stare at him and wonder how he could be so dumb. I'd made a pie recently so Daddy got a can of Reddi-Wip at the store to go with it. Well long after the pie was gone, the can of whipped cream was still in the fridge. You and I were in the kitchen baking or something and in walks Daddy, goes to the fridge, pulls out the can, tips his head back and starts to squirt it in his mouth. I tried to cover up the act, but I could tell it had already made a heavy impression. So what did you do with the new-found material? We had some friends over just a couple hours later, and just as everyone is sitting down to have dinner, you walk into the room and up to the table with the top of the can of Reddi-Wip stuck in your mouth. Or how about the other day when you were getting ready for bed and Daddy retrieved a pull-up (yes, you are still wetting the bed at night) from the bathroom, walked up to Mango and stuck it over her head so she had to walk around with it on like muzzle. Sometimes I feel like a single parent in a two-child household.

Seriously, with the dogs. Stop. Already. If Mango even comes near you and you freak out. You ball up your little fists and get as close to her as you can before I shriek your name at the top of my lungs. You know what this is? It's sibling rivalry. Ginger is like the dear, sweet old aunt that lives in the in-law apartment off to the side of our house, and Mango is like the annoying little sister that won't go away.

It's a good thing you're not going to school because you would be the smelly kid. I used to blame it on your iron supplements and wave away the smell explaining to outsiders that you had your iron that day. Um...since your doctor visit this month and him telling us we could ease up on the supplements, I haven't been giving it to you that much. You stink even on non-iron supplements days and the only excuse I have left is that you are your father's child.

And here are some direct quotes for your future enjoyment:

You: "Why aren't we in a talking mood today?"
Me: "I don't know...maybe because we were at that party and it was so noisy and now we just want a little quiet."
"Yeah...I wasn't in a talking mood at the party. All those people were asking me those (choosing your words carefully) darn-it questions!" Darn and darn-it are your current all-purpose, parent-approved swear words.

When you have to pee, you go to the "batroom". You can't pronounce the 'th' sound yet, but I think it is so cute how those kinds of words come out.

Recently a Bob video got over with, you jumped up, turned off the TV, then just started talking about Bob. "Oh...hm...Bob's gotta pick up some supplies today. Yeah, Pilchard just....hm...well the other day Pilchard came in and the door was all messed up so she went through Bob's supplies so she could fix it." All the while you're pacing back and forth, motioning with your hands, bobbing your head around with this cute little expression on your face. And I cannot describe it well enough!

There's so much to say about you - my heart is full of things to say, as well as things there are no words for. It's as if being pregnant has filled me to the bring with maternal feelings; like my heart is being stretched in expectancy of the new baby on its way. To me, the most fascinating part of having another child is the phenomenon of loving the second child just as much as the first. I've never understood how that can happen. I certainly believe it from knowing mothers of multiple children, but I'm excited to witness the evolution for myself. It seems the process of this heart-growing has already begun, and incidentally, it is you who has most helped me get to this point. I feel the realness of this baby most strongly in your already welcoming love for it.

Love,

Mommy

Setting the Record Straight

Jacob is short. I don't see a problem with this. I am short. I'm 5'1". Zach is 6'2". We assumed with the difference in height between the two of us we would have an 'of average height' child, but he is not and we don't really think that much about it. I don't know any other kids Jacob's age who are shorter than him. My father was 5'4", my brother is 5'9" and I always used to think that was very tall.

Today at gymnastics this new mom and I were pointing out our kids to each other. When I told her how old Jacob is she exclaimed, "He's four?!" I'm used to that response, but then she went on to say, in a pat-me-on-the-back-of-the-hand tone, that she was sure he'll have a rapid growth spurt some day. And she should know because she knew someone once who had a short child and that kid grew up to be nice and tall, like it's a disease to recover from or something.

I'm not mad at that mother or anything, because she meant well, but I could have ripped the throat out of that sales guy in the store at Christmastime. I was across the store and overheard him ask my mom how old Jacob is. When she answered, he screeched, "He's four?! He looks more like he's two!" And he said this right in front of Jacob. How dare you try to give my child a complex!

I've been hearing comments like this from people for most of Jacob's life now. Even family members claim that he won't be short forever, even after I protest that I like him short. Nobody says anything bad about his height, but they all reassure me that one day he will pop up like a weed. By saying that, they're implying that short stature in less-than-desirable. I don't need reassurance, I think Jacob is just perfect the way he is. So why the need for the public at large to imply my child is less than whole because he's a peanut?

I'd like for Jacob to be involved in sports in some capacity, I'd like for him to live with a certain awareness about life, I'd like for him to be a happy adult, and I'd like for him to be a good person who is good to the Earth, but I will never be disappointed if Jacob doesn't surpass 5 1/2 feet.

We're packing our bags!

The RV show is back at the college this weekend! We miss our trip and the RV so much that we've been joking we're going to spend the weekend sleeping in one of the RVs. Zach runs the building and the shows in it, so if we were serious, we'd probably be able to get away with it. Sixth months ago we were just at the beginning of our trip. We seriously talk about the trip, and future trips we might take all the time. We fantasize about selling the house, buying an RV and becoming nomads. Right now, in the dead of winter, suffering from cabin fever, that sounds so nice.

While I'm on the subject of complaining...

Who in their right mind would want to spend the change of years in Time Square watching the ball drop? The TV was on for a while and I overheard the commentators say that there are 1 million people packed in there. Nevermind that it's like a terrorism target, but why would someone want to stand there for up to 24 hours (they also said that the people in the front row had to get there at 2am) just to see a giant ball drop? What about eating, drinking, going to the bathroom, sitting down? What about being cold, body odors, being bored, and...what about being touched and bumped into by all those PEOPLE!!! Ugh. Crowds freak me out. There's not much more that I hate than being squished in with gaggles of people and all the annoying things that come along with that.

Either I am just way too uptight (which is highly likely) or there are 1 million people more crazy than me.

My first complaint of the new year

It's a superficial one: I hate the way I look. This is the phase of pregnancy that I dislike the most (and it's supposed to be the one that is a breeze) because I'm clearly packing on the weight, but I don't quite look pregnant to everyone yet. This is my second, so you're supposed to pop out sooner and I thought that it was becoming obvious but when we went skating the other day and I was super, super self-conscious I asked my sister if I looked pregnant or just fat. "You look normal," she said. Noooo. That's not what I want to hear. Then, the next day I ran into a cousin whom I haven't seen since I was closer to 'skinny' than 'fat. Surely she would be able to tell. But when I told her that I'm pregnant, she exclaimed, "Oh! You don't even look it!" Great. I just look fat. I have a (rational) fear of getting fat, so I am going to have to hide out at home for the next couple months until people can start to tell for sure. It's like a catch 22 though because everyone knows the rule about never ever asking a woman when she is due, or if she's having a boy or girl just because her stomach is round....you have to have clear evidence that she is actually pregnant before you go saying something like that. So no one is just going to ask me, they're going to think poor fat girl. I wish I could just wear a sign.