Then, I had a wonderful dinner out [...]]]> Last weekend started out wonderfully.  I met Junkyard Jennifer for the first time, and she was just as fabulous in real life as she is on her blog.  And her kids are just as adorable as they appear in her pictures!  (It was so nice to meet you, Jennifer!!)

Then, I had a wonderful dinner out with Mr. Punky and Bub.  It was all going so well;  it felt like a golden day.

Then I ran to the grocery store for a few things.  I walked by the Nutella and decided I needed to have it.  It was on the top shelf, but that didn’t matter.  I maneuvered my ever-growing belly and stood on my tiptoes to reach that delicious, chocolate goo.

I saw two young guys coming toward me and watching me as I strained to reach the Nutella.  One muttered something under his breath, and they laughed.  I suspected it might be about me.  Then as they passed, the other one said, “Aw, come on, man.  Don’t make fun of the baby.”

Gulp.  He had said something about me.  Me and my (yes-I-know-it’s-already-huge) belly.

My first reaction was to swear at them under my breath.  “Asshole.”

But then I felt the tears coming.  I willed them away.  I bit my lower lip.  I finished my shopping.

I got into my car, and I cried.

Then I went home and told Bub, “I hope you never grow up to be one of those boys who treats people like that.”

“And I’m going to try my darnedest to make sure you don’t.”

Last time I was pregnant, I was an active member of a discussion board for women who were expecting the same month that I was.  I enjoyed it then.  I had so many questions.  I wanted to know if other people were going through the same things that I was.

This time, though (Oh, didn’t I tell [...]]]>

Last time I was pregnant, I was an active member of a discussion board for women who were expecting the same month that I was.  I enjoyed it then.  I had so many questions.  I wanted to know if other people were going through the same things that I was.

This time, though (Oh, didn’t I tell you I’m pregnant?  I’m pregnant.), I’m just not interested in being part of a discussion board anymore. 

On the discussion board, everything felt so rushed.  When women found out they were pregnant, they were getting ultrasounds right away (I had to wait ’til I was 20 weeks).  Six weeks into their pregnancies, they were showing off their baby bumps.  When we had our babies, they were feeding solids within a few months. 

I’m just not into it this time.

I don’t want to hear all those other voices.  I just want to hear my own.  And my little baby’s.

I know, this time, that everybody experiences pregnancy a little differently.  And I also know that there really isn’t much to do, beyond eating a healthy diet, getting a little exercise, and taking a prenatal vitamin.

This time I am choosing to slow down.  I don’t know if I’ll get to do this again.  I have to enjoy it.  I don’t want to feel rushed.  I want to let my body do what it needs to do (which, let’s face it, is what it’s going to do whether I like it or not).

I want to sit.  And breathe.  And contemplate.  Wait, and ponder, and hope.

My, what big feet you have.

…and scream with…

…and copy…

…is a wonderful thing.

Grandparents and their houses are endlessly fascinating.

My mom brought me to the library when I was little.  I loved it.  It opened up the world to me.  I could learn about anything I wanted to learn about. 

I could follow Harold and his purple crayon to the worlds he imagined. 

I could daydream about the oranges [...]]]> It’s true.  I do.  I love a library.

My mom brought me to the library when I was little.  I loved it.  It opened up the world to me.  I could learn about anything I wanted to learn about. 

I could follow Harold and his purple crayon to the worlds he imagined. 

I could daydream about the oranges Laura Ingalls found in her Christmas stocking. 

I could imagine the upside-down world of Mrs. Pigglewiggle.

Yes, I love everything about a library. 

So it’s no surprise that I brought Bub, at the age of 1.5, to get his very own library card.

There was a hippo-shaped bookshelf at the library.  It was very low to the ground, meant for littlest of the littles.  Bub seemed to know it was meant for him.  He went over to it and immediately started choosing books.

When we got home, he was absorbed by his new books.

Libraries.  I couldn’t love ’em more.

Instead of a cohesive post, I present you today with random bits of information about our life right now.

1.)  When my MIL asked what I wanted for Christmas, I told her I wanted a Snuggie.  What?!?  I’m always cold.  She [...]]]> It certainly is January, isn’t it?  There really isn’t a whole lot going on, except for winter. 

Instead of a cohesive post, I present you today with random bits of information about our life right now.

1.)  When my MIL asked what I wanted for Christmas, I told her I wanted a Snuggie.  What?!?  I’m always cold.  She gave me a Snuggie knock-off from K-Mart.  That sounds like a complaint, right?  Oh, it’s soooo not.  This Snuggie knock-off is the cuddliest, softest, snuggliest blanket in our house.  And let’s remember that this was not a gift for our family.  It was my gift.  But Bub?  He thinks it’s his.  Sigh.  He loves it, and cuddles it, and complains (loudly) if anyone else uses it. 

2.)  I use the faux Snuggie after he goes to bed.  ;)

3.)  My kiddo doesn’t call me Mama.  Actually, he doesn’t call me anything.  No, I take that back.  I have heard Bub call me Daddy.  Mr. Punky claims Bub calls me Mama, but I never hear it.  I hear him say “Mo-Mo” a lot, and at first we think he’s saying “Mama,” but, really, he’s just asking for Elmo. 

4.)  The first thing Bub says when he wakes up in the morning is “wa-wa.”  He means milk.  Every drink is “wa-wa.”  The second thing he says is, “Mo-Mo?”  Remember?  Elmo.

5.)  My kid would watch Sesame Street every minute of the day if I would let him.

6.)  Mr. Punky and I are both introverts.  Yet, somehow, we have created the most social child in the world.  When we go to restaurants, he wants to say hello to everyone in the restaurant.  If someone doesn’t look at him, he’ll keep desperately trying to get their attention.  He will work at it, and work at it, until they look at him. 

7.)  When someone sits down at a table near us in a restaurant, we cringe and hope they’re the friendly sort.

8.)  We brought Bub to the doctor over the weekend.  He had never met this doctor before.  Yet, less than a minute after the doctor walked into the room, Bub lifted up his arms and allowed the doctor to pick him up.

9.)  Bub likes to lift his arms and say, “DUH-DOW!” (touchdown!).  He said it once to one of the employees at our grocery store, and the guy said it back to him.  Now, whenever Bub sees that employee, even from across the room, he’ll lift his arms and say “DUH-DOW!” over and over, trying to get that guy’s attention.

10.)  Say, hypothetically, Bub & I are playing on the floor.  I lean over to reach for something.  If my underwear show at all while I’m reaching, Bub will reach and try to pull on them.  As if to give me a snuggie.  And then he’ll giggle.  Don’t ask how I know this.

Well!  That brings us right back to Snuggies, where we started.  And that concludes today’s random Punkyness.

who came out as this wiggling, mewling, totally dependent baby,

  to someone who can stand at the sink and brush his own teeth. 

It blows my mind.

He’s such a [...]]]> It’s unbelievable to me, as a first time mom, that Bub could go from
something I grew in my belly,

who came out as this wiggling, mewling, totally dependent baby,

  to someone who can stand at the sink and brush his own teeth. 

It blows my mind.

He’s such a big boy.

It’s hilarious, and adorable, and out of control.

Once I was in the grocery store, trying to make it behave.  I said to Bub, “Oh, man.  This is like a bad combover.”  Just then, a man walked around from behind me.  He must’ve heard [...]]]> Bub has this fuzzy hair now.  I just can’t bear to cut it.

It’s hilarious, and adorable, and out of control.

Once I was in the grocery store, trying to make it behave.  I said to Bub, “Oh, man.  This is like a bad combover.”  Just then, a man walked around from behind me.  He must’ve heard what I said, because he turned around and smirked at me, his eyes twinkling. 

I can’t bear to cut it, because it’s still so baby.  When I cut it, he’ll look like a little man. 

Maybe in a couple of months.

This is the tag that was attached to my Christmas gift from my husband’s parents.  In case you can’t read it, it says, “To Jo.  Mom & Dad Punky.”  Okay, so, their last name isn’t Punky.  But you get the point. 

I don’t call my in-laws Mom and Dad. 

But the fact that my mother-in-law wrote “Mom [...]]]>

This is the tag that was attached to my Christmas gift from my husband’s parents.  In case you can’t read it, it says, “To Jo.  Mom & Dad Punky.”  Okay, so, their last name isn’t Punky.  But you get the point. 

I don’t call my in-laws Mom and Dad. 

But the fact that my mother-in-law wrote “Mom & Dad Punky?”  I love it.  It warms my heart.  It makes me feel accepted and loved.

The best part is that I’m absolutely sure that it was not at all calculated.  It was what was in my mother-in-law’s head, and it came out through her pen.

It was a small thing, to be sure, but it mattered to me.