It's All Coming Out

On Sunday I turned 33, and my brother decided to send a very thoughtful note attached with these pictures. His intent was to show how he remembered his twin sisters and how much fun it was to grow up with twins. Unfortunately, this little walk down memory lane proved to be slightly dramatic for the husband. He just called and asked if I had seen the pictures. (Now, I should note that he sounded rather stressed about the contents of these pictures.) I tried to laugh it off, I mean sure, I rocked a pretty serious truck driver look throughout the 80's (and preferred all my beverages in paper bags), but I didn't think it was that bad. Apparently, when you have a daughter coming, and slightly unflattering pictures surface of the mother, the husband starts to worry. I tried to assure him that I'll make sure she carries a sign that reads, "I look this way because of my MOM'S GENES AND Not because of my Dad's genes."

I guess it would be a bad time to tell him this wasn't actually my worst stage.

My Not So Amazing Husband

Congratulations to you all who noticed the wrong dresses on the princesses.*

Happy Friday 13th everyone! Cue evil cackle.

So, like a few posts ago, (and I'm still standing by my love affair of The Good Wife) I must admit that I've been watching another show on CBS. I know, it pains me to admit it, but that network has got me by the jugular. For the past couple of weeks the husband and I have been watching The Amazing Race...and well, it's been amazing. This show makes me want to do two things: 1. Travel and 2. Find a few people on this show and burn them alive. Why do these people come on a show about teamwork and then insist on yelling, belittling and verbally abusing one another? Keep it at home - that's what I do with my good for nothing, sorry excuse for a man, never seen him take out the trash husband. Did I say that out loud?

No, in all seriousness every time I watch this show I think, "Man, the husband and I could kill this thing. We are in shape (well not currently), the husband is good with navigating, I'm willing to do anything to get ahead...I mean anything...and we're best friends." So, the other night I say, while watching some ridiculous couple argue over how to construct a pyramid of watermelons, "Man, if you and I went on this show we would kill it." And you know what I got in response? Well, first silence, which was strange, and then the husband said, "Are you kidding me? We would be awful." Really awful? I mean, sure I'm slightly competitive (I would probably knock my own flesh and blood down to win a board game) I hate being lost (There are two things I hate in this world more than anything: European tippers and being lost) sure, I lash out verbally when trying to calm down (I can't explain this) and I'm slightly passive aggressive when I'm not in full agreement with what is taking place (My silence and shoulder shrugs are deafening) so what?

My husband is such an idiot.

* I did not notice a thing wrong when posting the picture - which again, should only increase my plea for a non-princess daughter.

And The Winner Is...

Alright folks the ultrasound has been completed, we've seen the pictures and I can now announce...

IT'S A GIRL!

And because you all have been such faithful readers here's a very personal look into my first letter to my daughter.

Dear future daughter,
Please be nice to me. Don't shave your legs for the first time without me. Wait a little longer than your mother did to have her first kiss and make sure it's not with a guy who's last name is Miltenburger. I know, it makes for a terrible story. You can like princesses, but please, please, grow out of that phase as quickly as possible. If you don't even want that phase your father and mother are okay with that. Be coordinated. That's all. Just be coordinated.


Love Mom.

Dumb Questions

My first prego picture...

I know I'm new to this game, but I find people ask really stupid questions when you tell them you are pregnant. For example, I've probably been asked about 140 times,"Do you have a feeling what you are having?" Do I have a feeling? Um, if hungry and wanting to rip your face off for asking a stupid question means boy - well then... Do I have a feeling? What is that even supposed to mean? Well, yes, it's a girl because in addition to being a waitress I also dabble in fortune telling and tarot card reading. Did you know that very soon you are going to be hit by a 2005 Honda Accord?

The other question: "Do you have a preference for a boy or girl?" Um, yes, let me curse the baby that is forming in me right now by wishing upon it a certain sex. Do I have a preference? Um, it took me about a thousand needles, tons of peeing on sticks and drugs to get this one - so I'll just take a healthy one.

And then there's the: "What kind of birth are you going to have?" Why do women ask this question of each other? Is there some type of playground bullying going on here? If I answer with absolutely no epidural, in water and absolute silence does this make me a tougher woman? And has it been proven that the child actually feels better coming out as you push in agony? I always say, "Well, hopefully I'll be so drunk the decision will be made for me."

People, for future reference I have no idea what I'm having, no idea what stroller I'm going to buy, no idea when breast feeding will be done and no idea how I'm going to teach them how to read.

This Kid Is Paying For Itself

I swear all my posts won't be about being pregnant...but...

So, I got to admit being pregnant has been awesome when it comes to waiting tables. First, I'm really not at that point where I'm exactly busting out. So, there are still moments when people wonder if I've just gained some weight or if I'm caring a little nugget. So, I wait to see if I'm going to need to use the "baby announcement." What do I mean? Well, picture a mean old lady, who won't look you in the eye when she orders and acts like you are bothering her every time you come to the table. Now, picture her after you've dropped the,"Oh, and thanks for coming in (while touching your protruding stomach and looking lovingly down at the seed you are growing)...have a great day." All of the sudden, the meanness just falls away and the woman can't help but ask, "Excuse me, but are you expecting?" And then, I turn to the mean old woman, and with a innocent smile, say, "Why yes, I am," and then like magic, she can't help herself. Instantly, I'm transformed from a lowly servant to a budding mother. And what happens next? Well, the 15% that was going to be begrudgingly left all of the sudden becomes more like a 25% tip of happiness and well wishes. It's a beautiful thing.

Second of all, my co-workers, who I love, don't fully understand my capabilities and limitations of being pregnant. (I'm not sure where these misconceptions came from, but I haven't gotten around to informing them.) For example, I hate busing tables, sweeping after moronic mothers allow their children to tear their food into tiny pieces instead of eating them, running food and getting and polishing glassware. Now that I'm pregnant I just have to look at a messy table and say, "I want to, but the doctor..." Again, I had no idea how magical pregnancy could be.

So, if you are out there, waiting tables and wanting to improve your work environment and tips think about having a kid. It literally pays for itself.