Thursday, November 29, 2007


Everyone in my family knows I am a terrible housekeeper. I always excuse my clutter by saying it is the sign of a busy and fulfilled life, not of abject laziness punctuated by the munching of peanut butter Captain Crunch while watching "Iron Chef." I was a terrible housekeeper until this week:

"Did you see my list?"

"What list?"

"The list I made for cleaning. A room a day for a week."

"What do you want me to do?"

"You have to look at the list."

"Roll up the rug in the livingroom?"

"Yes, so I can vacuum and mop the tile. You have to pull the entertainment center out from the wall too, and the sofa so I can get behind them with the vacuum and the mop."

"Buy new toilet seats?"


"We need new toilet seats?"



"Have you seen them?"


"We need new toilet seats."


"I don't know why, don't argue with the hormones of a pregnant woman. By the way, you have to wash the sliding door windows,too. Our godchild's fingerprints are still on them from June."

This is where The Rev. just looks at me and I begin to wonder if he really is happy with this transformation. I usually whine we need a maid. I give this one more day until I begin to annoy myself.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

One liners

I have been the recipient of two baby showers so far, and I would call them thunderstorms instead of showers. The Rev. and I have been overwhelmed by everyone's generosity, and I think it is safe to say that co-workers and congregants are just as excited about this baby as we are.

Everytime I open a box that has a little outfit in it, I realize that in 8 weeks I will have a baby that will be wearing these clothes. I have received several onesies, and I especially love receiving the onesie with a cute expression on it:
"Party in my crib at 2 a.m."
"Poop is my business. Business is good."
"Tax Deduction" (but only if he comes before the 31st!)
"Holy Frijoles" (with three beans adorned with halos and wings)

The Rev. and I are also taking what we call "turbo childbirth" this weekend. Given that our schedules do not allow for a 6 week class on childbirth techniques, we opted for a weekend class that crams it all into two sessions, lasting about 6 hours each. I wouldn't call it turbo anymore. We went at a snail's pace, and I knew I was in for it when the instructor whipped out a poster of the woman's anatomy and said, "This is your uterus." Um, yeah, I know that, which is how I got here in the first place. I know I had a hard time not rolling my eyes as she went through the anatomy that every female on the earth possesses, but I knew I could not look at The Rev. because I knew he was rolling his eyes. The six hour class could have been conducted in two hours if she had asked for a show of hands before the class when asking the question, "Does everyone in here know how they got pregnant?" I used to be a public school teacher; I know I had fourteen year old students who got pregnant and weren't really clear on the whole biology of reproduction, but we had four other couples in the class who were no where near being teen-aged, and as we exchanged glances with one another, I was silently thinking about the child developement class I had as a senior in high school. I'm pretty sure everyone else had been in a class similar to it also.

We have one more class today, and given that it is Sunday, and we are all pretty bright students, maybe she will give us a hall pass and let us out early.