Not Such A Loving Mother To Be

Does this make me a bad mom to be?

So, for the past couple of mornings, around 5:30, a bird or a crow or Satan himself, I'm not completely sure, flies over to our window and proceeds to make the most annoying squawking sounds over and over again.  These squawks bring blood to my ears because not only do they sound like a small child being stabbed, but they come at an annoying rhythm of every 8 seconds.  (I counted.)  So, this morning, as I lay there in a fit of rage, I began to think of ways to kill this bird.  I thought about a bb gun, but decided my aim was a little too unreliable.  (Though the taste of a direct hit seemed very sweet in my mouth.)  I thought about rocks, but unfortunately, we live in a city where rocks would be hard to come by.  (I've tried to stay pragmatic in my murderous plotting.)  Finally, and this is the thought that slightly worried me, I wondered if this bird had any children.  And if it had children, could I find them?  And if I could find them, could I hold them hostage while this bird gave itself up?  And if it didn't give itself up, would I be willing to make good on my threat and take down his children?

And this is where I'm wondering if my maternal instinct and softness hasn't kicked in yet?  Thoughts?  Or does anyone know of a way to kill a bird?

Destination Weddings Discussed

About three weeks ago I said I was going to revisit our trip to Cabo and make some further comments...well, you are in luck, one, I am a woman of my word and two, I can't think of anything else to blog about because no one did anything stupid today...oh wait...I guess I won't count the woman who told me her burger tasted like a fart.  Yes, a grown woman said this.  What did I say?  "Hmmm...well that doesn't sound good.  Would you like something else less on the fart side?"

So, Cabo.  While we were there we had the opportunity to watch three different couples get married on the "beach."  I say, "beach" because in actuality they got married facing the beach in a cheezy gazebo, that was about ten feet from twenty white trash drunks in the pool.  (The husband and I are not included in the white trash count because, one, we weren't wearing a camouflage hat and, two, we did not exhibit a ridiculous amount of barb wired and dragon tattoos.)

Now, aside from the fact that the wedding ceremony was not only witnessed by their family, but also a bunch of drunk strangers, I found the whole "destination wedding" to be very interesting.  The following are my pros and cons to destination weddings.

Pros:

• You are married in a beautiful location.

• Your pictures are probably really cool looking.

• Because of the location, only your closest family members and friends attend.  

• Depending on where you get married, the law and filing system might be a little shady, and therefore, if you change your mind, the marriage might not be binding. 

And um...wait there's got to be something else.

Alright, I'm sorry I watched three destination weddings of two white trash couples and one Asian crew.  There's just too many cons here:

Cons:

• After the wedding, after the night of the wedding and everyday you decide to stay at your destination, your family is right there.  Forget the honeymoon - you are ON A FREAKING FAMILY VACATION.  Case and point: poor James Wu.  I'm not even sure this guy was able to consummate his marriage before his mother-in-law was dragging him on a family day trip to see the sea otters in Cabo. 

• Your friends are in Cabo at an all-exclusive resort.  You wanna know why they keep giggling during the ceremony?  Because they are drunk.  For one of the weddings we saw, the bride and groom had purchased mugs for everyone in the wedding party.  Now, let me clarify these weren't "mugs for hot chocolate" but gallon containers for whole bottles of Jack Daniels.  

• Getting married in a foreign country is cool.  Don't get me wrong, but the man officiating the wedding was not exactly proficient in English.  Call me crazy, but when I got married I liked saying, "I do," and not "What?

Not Such Good Advice

For the past seven months I have had to endure countless hours of unsolicited advice from new and old parents.  I've been told when to introduce a bottle, how to put them to sleep, what are the best strollers and how to recover the fastest.  Again, I want to stress that I have never, ever, not once, asked, "So, I see you have a two year old - by any chance do you have advice you would be willing to part with?" 

So, today I was waiting on a nice couple, who after serving their food to, asked when I was due.  I used to love this question because it constituted about a 3% increase in my tip, but now I dread it because inevitably it turns into, "When are you going to stop answering my question so I can give you stupid advice?"  So, after quickly getting out "seven months" the proud parents, of a four month old, began giving me their sage advice.  After hearing the merits of a wet nurse during the first three months (yeah, a wet nurse...because I'm secretly the Queen of England) I asked, "So, are you both just sneaking out for a breakfast while the babysitter has your baby?"  And they replied, "NO, OUR BABY IS IN THE CAR."  Yes, you read that right...the car. I immediately thought they were kidding and said, "Well, I hope you at least cracked the window."  To which they responded, "No, she's fine.  She's just sleeping in the car.  That's all they do is sleep." 

Wet nurse huh?  What are you thoughts on baby cruelty and neglect?

Are You Married?

Yesterday at the restaurant I was asked if I was married.  (For those of you, who don't frequent this highly infrequently written blog, I'm pregnant...let's continue.)  For a second I debated on answering something like, "Well, I wish this little bun in the oven meant I was married, but actually it represents a long string of one night stands that really amounts to more questions than answers."  Or "Married?  I wish.  But the judge says it wouldn't be a good idea since there's a good chance he won't make parole."

Unfortunately for me, and very fortunate for this idiot, I was really busy so I just responded with, "Yep," and while rubbing my stomach, "and sort of spoken for."  And then it got weirder.  As I was walking away, the guy looked down at my stomach and said, with these ridiculous flirtatious eyes, "I could take care of that."  Take care of that!?  That's the line you are going with?  That's the line that is going to make me leave my husband and raise this baby with you?  How about just a simple, "Congratulations" and you leave with your fanny pack still tied around your waste and not shoved down your throat?

Oh, and just if you were wondering how much he was going to "take care of that" - he left me a two dollar tip on a 45 dollar meal.  Buddy, you can't go around making false promises.