June, 2008

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Humping Poohs (And Other Reasons I’m Not Mature Enough For Babies)

Sunday, June 22nd, 2008

This weekend was hot. Shae and I basically spent the whole weekend just trying to stay cool and do as little as possible. Somehow we still managed to do enough to give me something to write about.

In preparation for the scorching weekend we decided this might be a good time to buy the single-room portable A/C unit a co-worker was selling (he decided to put in real A/C). On the way home, we swung by and picked up our stroller at REI. After the now-standard Shae pee stop, I knew we might be in trouble when the guy at the customer service desk grabbed the biggest box and brought it out to us. He asked if we needed help carrying it out or setting it up, but I was too proud to accept so I wrestled the giant box out to the car and loaded it next to the A/C.

We got home, unloaded the car, hooked up the A/C unit, and tried to cool off. After about an hour or so, we decided it would be more fun to go play in the sprinklers than sitting on the couch (Shae said the dog would have fun, I think she just wanted to try out her new maternity swimsuit). Watching Shae “run” through the sprinklers (I’m not nearly ballsy enough to try to describe Shae’s run, so I’ll just let you guys picture her jumping through the sprinklers pregnant while the dog chased her) I couldn’t help but think about the picture of her as a two-year-old running through the sprinklers that was part of our wedding center pieces. She hasn’t changed a bit, right? Right?!? (Just nod…she’s standing right next to me):

After we cooled off, we headed back inside and decided it was time to put the stroller together. I don’t think there’s any way I can properly describe the experience, but I’ll try. Shae had a full-on temper tantrum trying to open the box so I had to take over the assembly, which went pretty quickly (of course the “assembly” was putting three wheels on, but I’m still taking credit). The first thing about the stroller is that it’s huge. It finally hit me that we’re going to have two babies. Holy crap! This stroller fits through a doorway but it’s close. However, it doesn’t fit through the mini-doorway to our hallway so once we get it in our door we’re stuck in the entryway. The stroller has seat pockets and cupholders (for the kids). Know what else the stroller has? Quick release tires and suspension. This thing is somewhere between a nice bike and a cheap car. What the hell is this world coming to? Did I mention the thing is huge, yet? Because it is.

Today Shae finally dragged me out to Babies “R” Us to register for baby stuff (the need to get into an air conditioned building had nothing to do with it). Upon entering the store Shae had a decision to make: go the registry desk (right by the door), or use the bathroom (all the way in the back)? I think everyone can guess which one she chose, but eventually we got back to the registry desk. After witnessing a pregnant woman yell at a manager for a while because of some problem with her registry (pregnant women scare me…note to self: be nice to Shae), we got our gun and started off to register.

About 10 minutes into the registering two things became very clear to me:

  1. There is a ton of baby stuff you need, and I have no idea how you are supposed to know what to choose. I mean, what is the difference between a $50 breast pump and a $350 breast pump? There are like 10,000 different toys. Which ones do you choose? It’s easy for the dog, he destroys them all in like five minutes so you just pick the cheapest ones.
  2. I am nowhere near mature enough for babies. I might not know the difference between a $50 and a $350 breast pump, but I do know I laugh at the term “breast pump” regardless of the price tag (although I laugh harder at the $350 one because I figure it must be 7 times funnier). I also pointed the scanner at Shae’s butt and boobs and made the “beep” noise every chance I got. Of course, then I saw that someone had positioned two Pooh bears in an…umm…interesting position (we’ll call them Humping Poohs because I’m feeling so mature today) and I knew I wasn’t the only one who might not be quite ready for kids. Either that or someone brought their kids with them to the store.

I also came across some disturbing information you guys may not be aware of: babies are expensive. I know, it came as quite a shock to me too but it’s true. Car seats, clothes, bottles, breast pumps (still makes me giggle a little), etc. I’m beginning to think these things may not be the money makers I was hoping for, even with the tax deduction.

When we turned the registry gun back in, we got a little gift packet. It was mostly advertisements and coupons, but there were two interesting items. The first was a little book of baby names and meanings. Ella means “sprightly”, and Jackson means “son of Jack” (never would have guessed that one). When we looked up Jack we got “Form of John”, and when we looked up John we got…nothing. How can you define a name as “Form of John” and then not have John in your book? Who writes these things?

The second item of interest was a diaper for a newborn. I didn’t think all that much of it, but Shae couldn’t get over how tiny the diaper was. “Their butts are going to be that small?!?” She put the diaper in the giant stroller and forced me to look at how small the diaper was. “I’m not ready to be a mom. I’m going to break my babies. There is no way they are going to be that small.” Somehow the tiny diaper had the same effect on Shae that the giant stroller had on me: “Holy crap! We’re having babies and we are nowhere near ready.”

Lunchbox “LB” Lorigan, C.G.C.

Our little boy is all grown up. That’s right, he gets letters after his name now because today Lunchbox passed his Canine Good Citizenship (CGC) test. I’m not going to say LB aced his test, but at least he passed. Between the time (8am, right in the middle of his waking-up time), the distractions (bugs, birds, other dogs), and his overall mood (let’s call it crappy) I can’t imagine LB could have done any worse on the test, but he still passed. Once we send in the paperwork, we’ll get a certificate that will certify that our dog is a C.G.C. It’s like he graduated from medical school or something. Of course, he’s probably taken more classes than most M.D.s. On that note, I’m going to go play in the sprinklers with Good Citizen Box and try to stay cool.

One last note before I sign off for the weekend. We have some photos posted of the work we did in the baby room last weekend (in the House album). If anyone wants to see Shae (and me) nesting, take a look at the pics here.

My Office Space

Thursday, June 19th, 2008

I’ve generally tried not to bitch about work here on my blog, but my world is becoming way too close to something right out of Office Space so you guys get to deal with my whining. If you’d rather just read about baby stuff you can give Shae’s pregnancy post a read if you haven’t already.

Let me start off my bitch fest by pointing out that in general I’m happy with my job. I get tons of time off (including every other Friday and almost every holiday you can imagine, including Columbus Day), I like the people I work with, I have great job security (I think it would take longer to fire me than it would to just wait for me to retire. In fact, I think that might be the plan with some of my co-workers.), and I get to work on basically whatever I feel like on a given day. OK, now that I got that out of the way let’s get on with the bitching (and plenty of moaning too).

When I started my job, I couldn’t believe that my building was right on the ocean. I actually park my car right in a lot that looks right out onto the ocean. Of course, as soon as I leave my car I walk up the hill to my office and into a prison-looking concrete monstrosity built sometime in the 40’s or 50’s and not really improved since (Shae says it looks like a prison with antennas instead of guard towers). I’m amazed every day that the elevators still work (sort of). In the five years I’ve been in my office the heater has worked exactly one day, and it was over 70 degrees outside that day.

Anyone who’s ever tried to call me during the day is probably aware of this, but we have no cell phone reception at work. It doesn’t matter who your provider is, you aren’t getting a signal in my office (or anyone else’s in my building for that matter). I’ve heard rumors that if you stand six steps outside the back door, hop on one foot and hold your phone above your head you can get one bar. Of course it’s kind of hard to make a call from that position and even if you got a signal you’d lose it before the call went through, but it’s a start.

While my work environment is frustrating, I’ve learned to deal with these issues; they aren’t what prompted this post. Over the past few months I’ve noticed that my work life is getting closer and closer to something out of Office Space. If you haven’t watched the movie recently, go watch it and then finish reading this when you’re done.

You know what I have to do by the 5th of every month? I have to submit TPS reports. I’m not making that up, I get an email on the 1st reminding me to submit my TPS reports. Guess what happens if I don’t? Yup, three different “bosses” come by and remind me. The worst part is only one of them gets my monthly joke about the cover sheet; I guess the other two didn’t get the memo. Of course, the three people who ask me for my TPS reports aren’t even what I would call my “real bosses”. I have two of those, so that makes five different bosses. It’s not eight bosses yet, but give me another year or so and I bet I’ll get there.

Now we get to the final straw that made me sit down and vent. Today I had to print something and when I went to the printer I got the all-too-familiar “Load Letter Tray 2” message on the printer (I guess it’s replaced “PC Load Letter”). When I asked the guy in charge of the printer where I could find some paper I was informed that there is no paper. “We don’t have any, and I don’t have any money in the budget to buy any more. It’s bring-your-own-paper now.” Now I’m sure some teachers that may be reading this won’t have any sympathy for me, but you have to remember that I have to deal with government purchasing to get paper. If I put in an order for paper today(assuming I could find the funding somewhere, which I doubt), I might be able to print sometime before the kids turn two. Maybe.

OK, if you’re still reading I guess I’ll share the REAL reason for bitch-fest-08. The paper issue got me all fired up, but I wasn’t motivated enough to sit down and type until I tried to use the restroom (and no I wasn’t trying to print up reading material for my trip when I found out there was no paper, but I would understand if that was your first thought). Without going too far down the path of more-than-anyone-ever-needed-to-know-about-Pat, let me just say that I hate dropping a deuce at work. The bathrooms stink and the toilet paper is a step down from what you’d find at a National Park in the middle of cutbacks. If I’m making a run for the crapper at work, it’s probably a literal run for the crapper. Having said all that, I hope everyone can understand my frustration at trying to enter the bathroom and finding it closed for cleaning. I ran to a different floor, and it was being cleaned too. I finally found an open stall on my third try. Why does the cleaning crew clean the restrooms in the middle of the day? Why can’t this be done after everyone goes home like everywhere else I’ve worked (this goes for the monthly vacuuming, annual dusting, annual window cleaning, and all the other cleaning functions)? Every day our bathrooms are closed for about 30 minutes or so for cleaning (based on cleanliness, I can’t believe it takes more than 5 minutes), and that 30 minutes always seems go be whenever I need to go.

Whew…OK…this time I’m really done venting. I could spend another couple of hours whining about work (don’t even get me going about the pathetic excuse for a cafeteria we have), but I’m sure everyone’s heard enough. Besides, like I said at the top of this post, overall I’m happy. Just don’t get in my way when I need to drop the kids off at the pool. (Oh, and for anyone who actually read my first post on this blog, I did write that eventually this could turn into stories about my adventures using the restroom at work; you were warned.)

My Turn

Wednesday, June 18th, 2008

I guess it is about time I write something. I just can’t let Pat have all the fun. This entry is dedicated to all those women out there who have told me how wonderful being pregnant is and how much they loved it. My question for you is what were you on because the whole pregnancy thing SUCKS! Ok, well, physically it sucks. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the fact that Ella and Jackson will be here soon, but why must women go through hell for it. Let me start at the top and work my way down.

Do you remember when you were about 13 and puberty started to kick in? I do. Wanna know what I remember most about it? The zits! Guess what, they’re back. It’s like I went to sleep one night and the hormones all kicked in and decided it would be funny to make me relive a miserable time in my life. Why don’t the books tell you about zits!!! I am not glowing, I am zitting.

If you work your way down what do you think comes next? Yup, boobs. My chest has always been on the larger side for as long as I can remember. They have never been too big, despite what my parents say. Now they are. They are heavy, in the way, and I can’t button my shirts anymore. I used to like going bra shopping and picking out all the cute ones, but apparently they don’t make cute ones in a size 38 OMG. I went to the maternity store for a bathing suit for an upcoming trip and I even had trouble fitting them into a maternity suit. The woman behind the counter informed me that they carry a “sleeping bra” for night time support. I didn’t understand the point of it until last night when I was laying in bed and I rolled over. You know what they did? They clapped. That’s right. I rolled over and my boobs clapped. I guess I could use a little night time support. For now they are just going to have to be happy resting on my stomach. There is one other thing that you are not informed of when you get pregnant. Your boobs change colors. I’m not going to go into detail here, but I will say two words: burnt pancakes.

Ok, here comes the fun part, my stomach. You know when a snake swallows a tennis ball and it gets stuck and it just looks ridiculous. Well I look like I swallowed a huge watermelon and it got stuck. I am only 23 weeks so I am supposed to have a cute little bump. I am not supposed to look like I’m about to explode yet. Damn twins. I do have to say I have been fortunate enough not to get any of the dreaded stretch marks yet. Not only is my stomach a boob holder, it is also a punching bag. Sure it’s cute when the babies kick every once in awhile, but when you are trying to sleep or get some work done, they decide it would be fun to start kicking each other and me. Actually I think only one is kicking because the other one is squeezing my bladder and I know they can’t multi task yet.

That brings us to the bladder. So when I used to sit on the couch in the evenings and I had the urge to go to the bathroom it was no big deal. I would wait till a break and then make my way to the throne. Now when I am sitting or laying down and I have to go, I better get my ass to the bathroom pronto! When I sit up, the weight of the babies all go to the bladder. Imagine having to pee really bad and then having someone put a watermelon right on top of your bladder. It can be a little uncomfortable.

Moving a little further south we encounter an area I can no longer see. When we go to the doctors office they always make me pee in a cup. Well today, I could no longer see the cup so I had to do it by sound. Do you understand how hard it is to blindly pee into a little tiny Dixie cup? HARD. Good thing they have a lot of soap there.

Now for my feet. Yes my feet. I have always had wide feet so I have to wear wide shoes. Most often these are shoes that lace up. Well, if I can’t pee into a cup, what makes you think I can bend over and tie my shoes? Not so much. I now have to wear my narrow slip on shoes with swollen feet, unless Pat wants to practice the shoe tying song.

Overall, all the changes your body goes through to get two beautiful babies, really sucks. I can no longer bend over. I need help getting off the couch, and rolling over has become a chore. So to all you women out there who loved being pregnant, I hope you at least went through hell during labor.

Aroma De Pat

Thursday, June 12th, 2008

Maybe I won’t stop Shae from looking up baby facts. I’ve complained enough about it that today she actually went out looking for new ones. Along the way, she found this great tidbit:

A Swiss study found that a majority of women unconsciously choose mates with a body odor that differs from their own natural scents, which, as a result, ensures better immune protection for their children. “Longevity” magazine reported that the genes that battle disease-provoking substances also influence body odor.

If that’s true, there is a good chance that Shae chose me as her mate based on the way I smell. So my marriage (and the twins) can be attributed to my gas. Who knew?

Is This A Joke?

Wednesday, June 11th, 2008

Tonight Shae informed me that the babies have started producing their own hormones (that’s right, I still haven’t blocked her Internet access to the pregnancy websites). Super. If I made a list of things Shae needs right now, do you know what would be at the top? Me neither, but I know what would be at the bottom: more hormones. Thanks a lot kids. I have a feeling a lot more work is going to magically appear that will keep me at the office late. Weird how that works.

King City On TV

Tuesday, June 3rd, 2008

Everyone has probably seen this already (especially the KC folks), but since I don’t watch commercials I just saw it for the first time last weekend. I caught it again just now and this time I was on the computer so I decided to find it online. I wonder how many people watch this commercial and say, “I got a ticket in King City.”