Why Yes, Senator, I Suppose I Do Have Big Hips

Posted on Oct 30, 2011 in Uncategorized

This past weekend I was invited to Regent University’s annual “Clash of the Titans” debate, this year featuring Lawrence Summers, Robert Gibbs, Karl Rove, and Alan Simpson discussing how to solve America’s economic crisis.  Frankly, this is not my idea of a fun Friday night, but a dinner followed the debate at which I was erroneously told I would meet James Carville.  Miss an opportunity to meet that raving but entertaining Lefty loon?  Never!  However, given the “erroneously” in the past sentence, you have probably deduced Mr. Carville was not actually in attendance; he had actually been on the panel a previous year.  Despite my disappointment at learning this information, I had already committed to the dinner (but I did skip the debate).  And hey, a free dinner is a free dinner.

The highlight of the evening came from the delightful Alan Simpson.

After the dinner, Simpson approached me.

“Let me see you,” he amiably demanded, crouching (as much as an 80-year-old can crouch) in front of my baby bump.  After getting a good look at my belly, he turned me to the side to observe my bump in profile.  “I’m 75-25 with this, okay?”

“Okay…” I replied, unsure of where he was going with this.

“You’re having a girl!” he announced.

“Yes!” I replied, concluding he must not have heard someone just mention my baby girl.  “How did you know?”

“It’s the way you’re carrying.  You see, boys just jut out in front.  They don’t add the width to the hips that you’ve got.”

Say what?

Now, I would expect that kind of comment from my husband or my mom, both of whom have at some point in time referenced my “good childbearing hips”.  But Alan Simpson?  That was unexpected.  Thankfully, I have a sense of humor and waited until I got into the car to cry to my husband about my fat hips.

Kidding.  He was so enjoyable and good-humored that I couldn’t be offended.  And hopefully some day my daughter will appreciate the humiliation I have suffered for her – from everyone from my mom to distinguished public servants.

 

 

 

 

 

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An Undomestic’s Guide to Nesting

Posted on Oct 27, 2011 in Uncategorized

Early on in my pregnancy, a woman styling my hair told me I would become so obsessed with preparing a clean home for my baby that I would be on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor with a toothbrush and then pulling  out the ladder to dust the chandeliers.  I politely disagreed, and not just because my home doesn’t have any chandeliers. “You don’t know me.  I’m not the most domestic of women.  I find it hard to believe that I will ever feel the need to clean that badly.” The hair stylist insisted. “Just you wait.  It’s called “Nesting”.  It happens to all pregnant women.” So I waited.  And waited.  I’m 37 weeks along today, and am still waiting for that whole nesting instinct to kick in. Obviously I want to bring my baby home to a nice, clean living space.  But my idea of nesting is picking up the phone and dialing a cleaning service.  I find that to be much more efficient, and allows me to keep my hands free to for more important pregnancy activities, like eating. I will admit that I did sort through piles and piles of papers and magazines in an effort to de-clutter the living space.  But that was mainly because my husband probably would have left me if I hadn’t.  And there are still plenty of piles left that I need to tackle.  (I hit a wall pretty early on in that process.  That tends to happen when I attempt to tidy up.) Perhaps in my last few weeks of pregnancy that urge to organize closets and scour all my surfaces will strengthen, but I’m not holding my breath.   In the meantime, for anyone else lacking a nesting instinct like myself, here is what I recommend: 1) Buy Groupons for cleaning services whenever they are offered – which is all the time.  So worth it. 2) If you’re not into Groupons, direct your husband to all the chores you want done.  Why don’t more pregnant women utilize this tactic?  Having a huge belly, achy back, extreme fatigue, etc.,...

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Name the Grandparents

Posted on Oct 24, 2011 in Uncategorized

You all did such a good job with the baby name suggestions, that I’m hoping you will be as helpful with grandparent names. Here’s why: My dad recently announced he wants the baby to call him “The Boss” or perhaps simply, “Boss”.  While the baby won’t be talking anytime soon, we need to squash this idea STAT.  I can’t listen to my father refer to himself in the third person as “Boss” any longer. First of all, “The Boss” conjures up images of either Bruce Springsteen or a mobster, both of which are too cool to be associated with my dad. (No offense, Dad.)  Second of all, calling her grandfather “Boss” might create some confusing authority issues for my daughter.  It needs to be made clear early on that I am the one and only true boss in the family. So “The Boss” is out, even if my dad hasn’t accepted it yet.  We must find a suitable replacement, and unfortunately, “Grandpa” isn’t going to work either.  Sure, my dad went gray – excuse me, silver – in his early-30s, but other than that, he’s just not a “Grandpa”.  When I think of “Grandpa”, I think of a short, somewhat crotchety old man with hearing aids that are never turned on and who lets his grandchildren cheat at board games and secretly gives them candy.  (Yes, I just described my grandfather). My dad doesn’t need to turn off hearing aids to ignore me – he just tunes me out automatically.  Growing up he never let me win at anything, and would actually gloat when he beat me in games.  And he’s only shrunk a little, as far as I can tell.  See?  Not “Grandpa” material. As for my mom, “Grandma” doesn’t work either.  While thankfully she hasn’t claimed any dictatorial titles like my dad, she is at a loss at what to be called.  The fact that she will ask me the same question four times within 20 minutes does lend her an air of senility, and yes, she does favor orthopedic shoes, but generally she is too young...

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Italia, I miss you

Posted on Oct 19, 2011 in Travel Traumas, Uncategorized

I failed.  Yesterday my exhaustion reached levels of such epic proportions that I  simply didn’t have the physical capacity to drag myself to my laptop to type a post for this silly post a day challenge.  Had I tried, anything I wrote would have been completely incoherent anyway.  Forcing myself to post everyday has taken the fun out of this whole blogging thing, and as I mentioned in a previous post, I believe quality should trump quantity in this case.  So I admit defeat, but not without this slew of rationalization.  Onto blogging. I know I have been promising a post on my fall fashion wishlist, but A) I’m guessing most of you don’t really care what clothing items I’m lusting after and B) It’s flipping 80 degrees where I live and just looking at coats and capes and boots makes me break out into a sweat.  So fall fashion is going to have to wait. What’s on tap for today?  A healthy dose of nostalgia.  When Damon is gone, I get to catch up on movies he would never watch with me.  The other night, I watched Eat, Pray, Love.  The film was mediocre, but it made me long to return to Italy.  When I was a little girl, I wanted to visit three places: London, Paris, and Italy.  I have no idea where these desires came from, or why I designated specific cities in England and France, but left my Italy travels unspecified.  I like to think that at eight years old I had to foresight to realize that all of Italy is worthy of visiting. I had the good fortune to participate in an internship program in Florence the summer of 2005, followed by a study abroad program that fall.  While Florence is my fave, I love all of Italy, (almost) everything about Italy:  The people, the food, the art, the food, the language, the architecture, the food, the history, the food… you get the picture.  I returned after college graduation in 2007, but haven’t been back since.  And that makes me sad. Watching Julia Roberts...

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One Month To Go

Posted on Oct 17, 2011 in Uncategorized

Oct 17th.  That means one month till Baby is supposed to arrive. Shall we take bets on when she’ll actually show up? I’m guessing late.  Because that’s just my luck.  Mentally, I’m totally fine if Baby takes her time.  Physically, get her out of me! So, what do you think? Share...

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Rue La La Thinks I’m Dead: Part II

Posted on Oct 16, 2011 in Uncategorized

I recently posted that an impulse purchase of a pair of Botkier leather peep-toe ankle booties sent me into a downward shopping spiral.  It’s true.  That purchase opened the floodgates and released months of pent-up shopping energy!  I was doomed. Suddenly, no shopping site was off-limits.  A bracelet from Gilt Group?  Sure!  Hey, I had a credit so it cost me nothing!  Samsonite luggage from One Kings Lane?  Okay!  In all honestly, I have been searching for decent luggage for a long time.  True story.  And hello, it was significantly discounted, so no harm done.  Don’t even get me started on the Baby Gap Columbus Day Sale – this purchase driven by my recent layette freak-out.  (At least I never buy anything full price!) But it didn’t stop there; soon the shopping carried over from the web to the real world.  After receiving a Friends & Family 20% off card for Pottery Barn, I decided I needed some autumnal home décor .  After all, Damon and I are hosting Thanksgiving this year so our condo needs to be properly outfitted.  Right? Please note two things: 1) Damon is at sea so I am all by my lonesome.  This would probably not be occurring if my husband was around to keep me in check.  Except for the luggage.  Because really, we do need new luggage. 2) I am no psychologist, but I’m pretty sure I am doing anything to avoid addressing the nursery situation.  Nursery = Overwhelming Anxiety.  Shopping = Control.  Redecorating my living room with my new purchases and reorganizing my closet to accommodate new shoes, jewelry, etc. are fantastic distractions from the fact that in about a month I’m going to be responsible for keeping a little person alive. One thing I am not buying?  Clothes.  For obvious reasons.  In fact, this morning I received another email from one of my former favorite stores, requesting I check my spam filters to ensure I’m receiving their emails – see, I haven’t totally fallen off the wagon!  But whereas before I had completely resisted checking the latest fall fashions on...

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