Guess

Guess who we're going to meet today?

I am mostly excited, but a little terrified, too. I argue with myself.

-I can do this. I can do anything.

But don't I have enough on my plate?

-She sounds like the perfect little dog. Not too big, not yappy, a good breed for families, lives with kids...

You always said the youngest child had to be at least 4 before you got a dog.

-But then Brother will be a teenager. I don't want him to miss out on a childhood because I refused to do anything until there were no babies in the house.

But what if someone is allergic?? (Insert panic attack)

This last one is why we are going to meet the dog, to roll around and play with the dog and make sure everyone gets licked at least once...and then go home and monitor. Should we do this more than once before we agree to take the dog? Well, yes. But I am not sure there will be a timeline for that. Sometimes you have to roll with the punches and I am already consulting Dr. Google about how to keep allergens down. (Although currently, we don't have environmental allergy issues in our family. Just food. For Now. Don't strike me for hubris, Allergy Gods...) Stuff like keeping the dog out of bedrooms and HEPA filters and regular baths. Allergies are the terror of my life. (Did I tell you New Baby had a lovely reaction to blueberry yogurt? I know. I am stupid. WHY DID I GIVE HIM THAT? There is conflicting information. That's all I'm going to say.)

So, is the picture of the cutie dog ruined by my allergy-phobias? I think it might be.

Today

Today, I love my CSA membership. Brother and I went to go pick it up yesterday and, frankly, next time we are bringing a laundry basket because the large grocery tote we were given just wasn't cutting it. We walked out with the full bag and both of our arms overflowing with chard, onions, and broccoli. Now, they gave me a lot of stuff I have never prepared before. Artichokes, beets. But I think it is going to be so fun to learn to cook all these new and different vegetables. Really challenging and adventurous. I know, I am making it sound like an athletic event instead of dinner. Really it is going to be the Summer Challenge to Make Sure My Fridge is Not An Experiment in Rotting Produce.

~~~

Today, I can't wait to go home. It is overcast and breezy, which makes it pleasant to be outside. I have a hedge on the side of my house that I cut back practically down to the ground because it was really leggy and sparse in hopes of forcing it to fill out. Now the new growth is to a point where I want to cut back the growing tips so it will bush out. I am hoping to do that. I am also hoping Honey will cut this 12 ft board we have in half. I am going to paint it white and make nice long shelves in my laundry room.

~~~

Today a friend of mine posted about a dog someone was wanting to find a new home. I am cautiously asking questions and am liking the answers. Housebroken, good with kids, crate trained. She sounds dreamy. She's a pug and lives with little kids. I've always wanted a smaller dog. I am pretty scared though. A dog is like a kid and requires a lot of attention and care. Brother is getting to be old enough to help out...maybe even Jelly Bean too. I wonder if Jelly is mature enough though. He is really energetic. Ok, he's wild. Honey is working and so I can't call him and ask him what he thinks, but it wouldn't hurt to meet the dog, right? I feel bad because I don't want to get the owner's hopes up if I back out. But I would like to consider it. I think SaLy is starting a trend.

~~~

Today is Friday! Happy Weekend, everyone. I hope the breeze is breezy and the sun is shiny in your neck of the woods.

Think Positive

So thanks to all the good vibes on Twitter regarding that job Honey was up for? He started today. Never let it be said again that the Internet is good for nothing! (Ok, no one ever said that.)

There are lots of changes happening due to the new job. The new job is not Far Away. This is the first time since he was in college that he doesn't have an hour+ commute. So, definitely in the positive category. And the money is good for around here. Not great for the cities with the hour commute, but pretty good for here. The leave policies and benefits are kind of sucky. So much so that we refer to it as "That 70's Institution" which has, apparently, never heard of things like dental insurance or more than 6 sick days a year. (Dude. Really? No one gets the flu there?)

But I am trying to be positive. I am actually looking forward to getting back into the groove of things. Paying bills. Contributing to my 401 again. Dropping my kids off at the sitter. See, Honey was dropping the kids off and he just doesn't ask the questions I would ask. Did the baby like the yogurt? Did he eat the green beans? (Do you know how difficult it is to make green bean baby food? Oh, really hard. They didn't mash up right and shoving them through a mesh strainer only helped marginally.) How did Jelly Bean nap today? Etc.

Another good thing is that I am going to get a Big Girl phone. *Ahem* Confession time. I don't know how to text. I don't have a texting plan. I...er...only ever use my phone to make bona fide phone calls because that is all it does. Now I would gladly stay on the steamboat of technological oblivion forever. I get really pissed off when people ignore the real live humans in their presence for the minicomputer in their hand. Case in point, we were at the park and this adorable little girl, probably 2, fell down. Her daddy bent down to comfort her while she was sobbing into his shoulder...and he was not paying attention at all, but rather playing Angry Birds behind her back. Douche. Anyway, but when my professional colleagues say, "Oh, I will text you the date and time of that important meeting" and...I don't have a texting plan, it is kind of awkward to address. So, it is time to get off the Mawmaw train and move into the current century.

So, Honey, who is a total geek about stuff like this tells me about this Awesome! Phone! With something like a two core processor and blah blah blah blah blah. I squint at him. He just bought a new phone and then this fancier phone came out just a month later. I have already heard this song and dance. The man is trying to give me a bowling ball. But that's alright. I am a nice wife and if buying him gadgets keeps him from realizing my bad qualities, I will happily let him. I told him I would just take his phone and he could get the new fancy phone. He practically mowed me over and ordered the phone in less than 30 seconds.

Boys.

Boobage

I would like to talk about my boobs. How they have somehow ended up right up under my throat and are attempting to murder me here at my desk. I bump into them and think Jesus Christ, how did those get there?

See, it all has to do with Weight Watchers, babies, and insanity.

I had gone on Weight Watchers. It was lovely. I lost maybe 15 lbs and felt like a brand new woman. All these clothes of mine! They fit! It was like a whole new wardrobe and I didn't even have to go shopping. Awesomeness. Except...the bras. I had lost weight...everywhere. And I could have shoplifted Mars bars out of the Circle K in the amount of room that was afforded. Then! All of a sudden! There was a wee babe in my tum and Weight Watchers gave me the old heave-ho. And I started gaining weight. And miraculously, the brassieres that were quite spacious now fit.

This is intrinsic to the Attack of the Killer Boobs story in that: usually during pregnancy, I have to buy new bras to accommodate growth, so I just buy nursing bras. It's a two-fer! But this last pregnancy, I did not buy nursing bras because all my other lovely bras still fit. And frankly, non-nursing bras make your clothes look so much nicer and my pregnant self needed all the help I could get.

So, right before a wee baby is to be born I look online, I pound the pavement, I try desperately to find a nursing bra that I maybe could wear. No one has my size or anything close to it and I am not about to lay down $30+ for something I can't try on. So, I ask a busty gal pal of mine what she did about nursing bras and she refers me to The Shop.

The Shop is in Fancyville. It is pricey. For your hard earned cash, they shut you in a little room with some lady you've never met and she picks bras out for you, adjusts them as necessary. Well, I got this really evil twiggy saleslady who hates fat chicks or something of that ilk. Because when she asked how old New Baby was and I told her 5 days, she was all, "Oh! I simply can't give you bigger than this size! You are going to lose all this weight in two weeks and then it won't fit!" I told her she was being a bit optimistic. When I also told her that her choices were really tight and uncomfortable, she said, "Well, you really have been lounging around a lot, haven't you?" Like, what is that supposed to mean? Just because I don't want be Chinese-Boob-Bound doesn't mean I spend my life in yoga pants eating bon bons. Anyway, I kept insisting on a bigger size and she kept upping the CUP size, but not the band. She even offered me a band extender because I was just going to drop 20 lbs in the next week! (Right...)

Anyway, I bought a bra that wasn't killing me that very second. Handed over $100 and went on my way. Needless to say, she forgot to give me an extender, I actually GAINED weight, and now have this medieval torture device full of pinching hooks and prongs that I simply hate. So, after enduring 7+ months of it, I noticed there were size appropriate nursing bras from the WalMart for $13.00. I bought two.

Now, I will admit. They are a bit snug in the cup. And while support is a great thing, I feel like it is a cross between the push-ups of my 20s and the torpedo bras of the 1950's. I feel like I could simply look down and face-plant into the girls. But these bras are better than the monstrosity I was wearing. Not perfect, but better.