The Not-Uncomfortable Baby Shower

I know. The title of this post is a double negative. I know what this means in writing terms. I am aware of what I am doing. At least-I am aware of what I am doing right here, right now. Ask me again in five minutes and my mind may have wandered to some far-off place that is filled with baby anxiety, onesies and tiny socks.

Anywho-I want to address the title as both a double negative in writing terms but a title that is a positive point to my weekend. Let’s add up these positive points:

(1) There were no tiny sandwiches and I bought huge paper plates. (3 points, plus 10 bonus points). This allowed me to eat A LOT.
(2) There were both men and women involved, allowing for easy conversations and a party atmosphere. (5 points)
(3) There was a lot of leftover food-which I am still munching on. (4 points)
(4) It was at my house where I feel most comfortable using the bathroom ten gazillion times. (7 points).
(5) My parents, friends and family all chipped in and helped to pull off this large event. (17 points)

(6) People either lied to me or they did really have a good time. Even the ones that were hoodwinked by their female spouses to attend a “19th century lecture on Russian politics”, only to find out it was a baby shower. (3 points for hoodwink creativity, 5 points for the husband not holding a grudge to the hoodwinker).
(7) The food “made up” for being hoodwinked by aforementioned person. (2 points)
(8) There were no awkward baby shower games. (100 points)

(9) I got to see so many people I care about in one blow, opening up my calendar for the next month.
(18 points plus 2 points for not feeling guilty about this fact).
(10) I didn’t wear shoes-the whole night. (60 points).

That comes up to a grand total of….anyone have a calculator and a non-prego brain? Please answer below.

Time to start the Garden Plan

The snow is slowly melting and the seed catalogues are coming in piles. There’s a gnawing at the back of my brain that I’m already behind. It’s time to start planning the spring and fall veggie garden, but I’m not sure I’m ready for all of that.

I tend to be overwhelmed looking at the catalogues from Baker’s Creek, Gurney’s, Michigan Bulb and more. And, while Biceps’ nose is stuck in a book as he continues his college studies, mine is stuck in every book relating to natural child birth.

He suggested I take a year off from gardening.

The thought rolls around in my tiny brain as I picture a spring and summer with no weeding, no sliced up hands from me hastily picking okra without gloves on, no fisticuffs with tiny rabbits.

It’s tempting. But, then I look at this….

…and this…

…and this…

…and the smell of this heavenly dirt right in my own backyard.

I remember the fresh salads, the baked zucchini and the cherry tomatoes I ate like candy all summer long. I long for the peppers to grill, the carrots to roast and the okra to slice up and devour in one sitting.

I throw all of the oldest catalogues in the recycling bin and retrieve the sticky notes, pens and highlighters that will soon be flying as I plan the 2014 garden.

It’s time to get down to business. It’s time to put on my big girl underwear. How do you plan your garden?

I loathe baby showers…

I have been subjected to (tortured at) many a shower. Whether it’s a bridal or baby, it’s all the same to me. You are cornered in a room full of people you don’t know, eating on tiny plates and talking about the only thing you have in common-the host.

 

Men don’t realize this, but as a woman, you are subjected to all sorts of horrors–disguised in pink and yellow decor, along with mandated group responses of “oohs and ahhs” for the 10th time over a pair of tiny socks. AND-you must play games like “sniff the diaper”, and pretend you are having a great time.

All I want to do is pile my plate really high with more food, take off my high heels and laugh (snort) with someone that thinks Nacho Libre is one of the best cinematic presentations ever.

However, I’m usually wedged in between Aunt Ethel and Grandma Betty and the last movie they viewed at the “movie house” involved Robert Redford’s first starring role. So, I sit back and relax and carefully dip my celery stick into the unnamed dip. And I try to go unnoticed as I pick that horrible celery stringy thing from my teeth.

So, that’s why I did this.

This is our baby shower invitation. And it has received mixed reviews. (As do most things that I put out there for the world to see.)

I will promise you this-there will be no games at our baby shower. There will be no sniffing of diapers. No clothes pins. No pacifier exchange. No frou-frou decor.

But, there will be food-and lots of it-on giant plates. There will also be men present at our Co-Ed shower. There will be no belly measuring, no guessing of the baby names, and no forced oohing and ahhing.

Is that wrong?

My Lil’ Helpers-Cute Overload.

Often, when I’m in the middle of a project, I have two great helpers right by my side. They don’t offer tools, advice or lend a hand. And I realize that I have a problem.

They mesmerize me with their cuteness. Take this pose by Maxwell. I call it the “Supercat”.

He excels at this pose. With dangling feet mid-air, he encompasses both the regality of a superhero along with the fuzzy laissez-faire attitude one expects from a cat.

As if to further solidify his laissez-faire attitude, when caught photographing my Supercat subject, I am greeted with this obviously smug face. “What? Are you adoring me again? Oh, go on.”

Then, there is this white beauty who quietly watches me from the other side of the room. She knows she’s pretty, she expects treats for any good deed she performs and she will deceptively steal twine as you are trying to wrap a present.

However, she gets away with it because of these. I’m not kidding. These adorable little mittens get her out of all sorts of trouble. I think I’ve spanked her a total of 5 times in her life-and felt guilty every time.

If I can’t even discipline these lil’ helpers, I think I have no hope for disciplining my pre-destined “Supercute” children. I hope Biceps is stronger than I am.