Sean’s first ultrasound

When I was pregnant with Evan, I got one ultrasound.  The twenty week one; the one that I told the nurse we didn’t want to know what he was.

With Sean, I had three.  During Sean, I realized my doctor wasn’t one to schedule unwarranted tests, which included ultrasounds.  But I didn’t figure that out when I went to get the first ultrasound.

I was about twelve weeks or so pregnant.  It’s hard to tell for sure with Sean because he came 11 days early and was 8lbs and 11 ozs.  He was fully cooked.  Someone (me) missed counted.  But since they couldn’t catch Sean’s heartbeat, my doctor sent me to get an ultrasound.  No big deal, right?

I had a friend who was waiting for her green card to get a job (A Canadian married to an American and it took over a year.  Go fig), so she had nothing to do during the days.  I asked her to come with me to help with Evan.  She actually took part of more pregnancy stuff than The Husband.

So she came with me and Evan.  We went into the little room.  And we watched in amazement to see them pick up that little bean on the screen.  Wow.

The lab technician assured me everything looked great, and that she would pass on the results.

It took two more visits to the doctor’s to learn what he feared.

He measured my stomach and smiled.

The Doc: Oh, good.  The little one finally grew enough.  I was getting worried about how small the baby was.  Everything is perfect now.

Um, was I supposed to worry?

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Are you happy?: A book review

I just finished reading a book that I just HAD to tell you about.  I was browsing the library shelves when I saw Happy Housewives by Darla Shine.  The front of the book says “I was a whining, miserable. desperate Housewife- But I Finally Snapped Out of It . . . You Can, Too!”  See, why I had to get it?  I would read it, report back, and then we would all have fun making fun of it.  Brilliant.

Except half way though I realized, except for one of two things, she actually made some sense.  Well, that went that post.

You know me.  I’m not miserable.  Usually.  Unless I’m puking and peeing at the same time because I’ve been poisoned by proestrogen.  Unless I’m sick.  Unless the boys decide to try to cage fight; while I’m too tired to care and busy trying to get dinner on.  But on the whole, I’m a happy . . . homemaker?  Really, I don’t know if there’s a title I like. 

As I read Shine, I realized she wasn’t really talking to me at first.  She started talking to the upper-class moms who stay at home with the kids but have a nanny and/or cleaning lady.  We’ve all heard about them, and we’ve all heard about their complaining.  Really, Shine tells them to fire the help and do it themselves.  My grandma would say these women were just too bored and needed to work to stop whining.

But as the book went on, I realized she was talking to all moms.  She talked about enjoying your house because that’s where you stay all day, making it a place you want to be.  Shine wrote about how moms need to take care of themselves, feel good about themselves, encouraging our kids through our example of being healthy adults.  She encouraged moms to have a social life, to have hobbies, to have some me time.  Really, that’s what so many stay-at-home moms need, a balance between mom, wife and woman.  And I agreed with her and stopped making fun of when she wrote about fixing your lipstick before your husband comes home.

While at first, I couldn’t stand her writing style of breaking out of “character” to tell me she needed to do something for one of the kids.  I’m a trained writer, so I saw it as poor writing skills, but I then realized she was just being a mom, showing her street cred, if you will.  How many times are we talking to someone on the phone and have to ask for a minute to deal with a kid issue?  My only problem became that she dropped this style three-fourths into the book.  She should have taken it through to the end.

Since I can’t leave it all rainbows and sunshine, I will criticize some of her suggestions.  Like throwing out all your clothes that are older than a year, so that you always have a fresh wardrobe.  That must be nice when you’re rich, but most of us can’t do that.  Or the fact that she says that all houses should have a playroom with a door, so you can shut the door on the mess.  At one point, I could I hide the toys in a kiddie corner, hidden by the couch, but now in my itty, bitty house, the toys are taking over.  (Send reinforcements if I ever miss three days in a row because it means a regime change of the toys.)

But the best part, that I actually tossed the book down so I could call my BFF and howl with laughter with someone, is when Shine talked about her healthy eating.  Talking about Susan Powter’s books, Shine writes, “She gives oatmeal as one example.  She says everyone thinks oatmeal is a healthy food, but have you ever heard of an oat tree?”  Well, no, I haven’t, but that’s because oats grow on grasses like wheat.

So if you’re browsing and in the mood for some light reading to encourage you through your path of stay-at-home motherhood, I suggest you pick up Darla Shine’s Happy Housewives.  Just take some of it with a grain of salt.

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Career Decision

The Husband: So, Evan, what do you want to be when you grow up?

Evan: A police officer!

The Husband: Why?

Evan: Because that’s what Papi did, and I want to be just like Papi!

The Husband: Do you know what Daddy does?

Really, you think working on the computer and talking on the phone all day is going to interest a four-year-old who has been in a police car and looked at the uniform?  Yeah.  Me neither.

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