Wednesday, September 29, 2010

The wino is whining for wine

I would like to have a sit-down with the women who say, "oh, when you're pregnant you don't even think about drinking or wanting wine!" because as far as I'm concerned, they are full of it.  Not to complain, (this is just like starting a sentence with "no offense, but") but this is seriously getting old.  I want my wine. 

Don't get me wrong, I thank my lucky stars every day that baby Kilham is on his way, and I couldn't be more excited and happy.  During the months (and months and months) before he came along I promised myself (and whoever else that might have a hand in this) that if I could ever get pregnant, I wouldn't complain about ANYTHING throughout the whole time I was pregnant.  I might have even gone so far as to say I would never complain ever again.  Please note this promise was broken immediately, when I wasn't able to LOOK at a kitchen sink or refrigerator without making really loud retching noises that I'm quite certain the neighbors across the pool could hear.  And now I've moved onto whining about my wine. 

Poor Willis.

If you told me I could have a glass of wine right now, I think I would run over an old lady carrying a puppy crossing the street if they got in my way.  I know that some people say that a glass of wine every now and then is fine once you reach a certain point, but (a) I'm too paranoid and (b) what's the point in having just one? 

Kimmy, can you hear me?  I'll be back soon, sweetie.  I miss you.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

No More Cleaning for You

I think the problem that I have with cleaning is that as soon as you finish, things start to get dirty again.  Why can't things just stay clean?  I mean, how often is one really expected to scrub a toilet?  Dust bunnies form for a reason.  If you just wait a while, the dust does all the work for you and you can just pick it up by the handful.

Willis came out of the guest bathroom the other day and said, "I scrubbed that nasty mold ring in the toilet."  And I thought to myself, "Yeah, big deal.  I scrubbed that 2 weeks ago."  Maybe I have selective seeing when it comes to these things.

I decided to get rid of our cleaners when I knew I wouldn't be working anymore (I will be the best cleaner ever!!  I'll clean while dinner is in the oven!!!).  While these last cleaners were pretty run-of-the-mill, my history with cleaning people hasn't exactly been conventional.  Let's summarize.

  • Amparo famously dumped me one day via note (on my stolen work stationary).  There are two reasons I think this happened.  (1)  The only English words she really knew how to say were "cash only", but I had to keep leaving her checks because I never had cash (and always forgot she was coming until I was flying out the door for work).  I didn't know her last name, so I just wrote the checks To the Order of Amparo.  (2) Amparo apparently didn't realize that part of her job description was dusting (and since she didn't speak English it was hard to go over this), so I left her a nicely worded note one morning (next to her check) that said "please pay more attention to dusting."  That night, I came home to The Note next to my key.  Perhaps she understood English better than I thought.

  • Then there was Roger Cleaner (yes, this is what he called himself).  He was hired after I was fired from Amparo.  He showed up at my condo wearing $300 Diesel jeans and carrying a portfolio of his work.  I hired him on the spot.  I immediately regretted this decision and started wondering if maybe I was overpaying him since his clothes cost more money than mine, but I was still so burned from the Amparo dumping that I didn't really care.
  • Fast forward to our move to Austin.  It was a few days before Christmas and my parents were coming to visit, and I'm fairly certain our place hadn't been cleaned since we moved (mid-October).  I was working from home and heard the sweet sound of a vacuum cleaner in the hallway.  I raced outside and met Lupita.  Long story short, Lupita sent her sister Rosa to help me, but when Rosa showed up with her 8 year old boy in tow (named Omar) who also started cleaning, guilt got the best of me.  I spent the whole time they were here trying to give Omar cookies, juice, etc.  I also spent the whole time concerned that child services was going to come pounding on my door, no thanks to Catherine who put this idea in my head.  Omar left here with Willis's Homer Simpson slippers, which he seemed really excited about, so I felt better. 
    Willis didn't miss the slippers until I mentioned I had given them away.
I have heard that once you have a baby, you have no energy or time to devote to cleaning.  I am quite certain this will be the case with me, since right now I don't have a baby or a job, and still don't have the energy or time to clean.

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Honey, where's the ____?

Willis might disagree, but generally speaking, I don't get annoyed by "guy habits" (not putting things away, leaving wadded up wet towels on the closet shelf on my only pair of maternity shorts, etc.).  This is probably because I have the same habits, too.

But there is one thing I will never understand about guys. 

How is it possible for them not to see things that are sitting right in front of them?  Willis is good at many things, but he is not a good finder.  I will give you two examples of instances that happened in the last month.

Me:  "Honey, one of the cats puked on the rug again.  Can you grab the cleaner spray under the sink?"
Willis [looks for 1.2 seconds]:  "It's not here." (I think insinuating I have moved it, but that's for another day.)
Me [looking under sink]:  "It's right here, behind the duster thing."
Willis:  "Well I'm not going to rearrange everything to find it."

I see.

Last night we were getting ready to go out to dinner, and Willis tells me that he has been unable to find the new brown shirt I bought I him.

Me:  "That's because I hung it up in the closet."
Willis:  "I looked there."
Me:  "It's right here."
Willis:  "Well I didn't think to look that far left."

POP QUIZ:  Can you find the brown shirt in the closet? 

Friday, September 24, 2010

Hold the door!

I'm getting ready to GO SHOPPING for the little one (name undecided), but thought I would share a brief story from yesterday afternoon.

I'll cut right to the chase with the moral of the story:  If there is an obviously prego lady behind you / about to walk through the same door, it's common courtesy to NOT LET THE DOOR SLAM SHUT IN HER FACE (or big belly since that's what is first these days).

I was getting the mail outside of my building, right next to some guy (we'll call him Yankees Hat since that is what he was wearing.  He wasn't only wearing a Yankees Hat though - he had on other clothing too).  I was following him into the building, then - WHAM!  He lets the door almost shut behind him, right where I am walking.  He knew I was there.

I was steaming mad, trying with all of my might not to say something to him.  "Don't say anything Ali, let it go, let it go, don't say anything...."   

Here is the conversation once we were in the elevator:

Me:  "You from New York?"
Yankees Hat:  "Yeah, born and raised."
Me:  "Well I guess in New York they don't teach you to hold open doors for pregnant ladies."
Yankees Hat:  [stares at floor in silence pretending like he has all of a sudden lost his sense of hearing]


Thursday, September 23, 2010

Millie has a Willie!

It's true!  Baby Kilham can no longer be called Millie.... since HE has a WILLIE!  I think I am still in shock but we are obviously ecstatic.

Here's how it all went down:
We are in the ultrasound tech's office, and gave her the green light to go ahead and hunt for the gender.  In the beginning I said, "oh, I already know it's a girl.  We call her Millie."  You know, really setting the stage for something like this to happen. 

About 10 minutes in, up on the screen pops his little legs, with a little (er, I mean nicely sized) SOMETHING in the middle!  Just as clear as day - staring right at us.  "heeey there" - sort of taunting us even. 

me/James:  "Is that a...!?" 
nice older ultrasound tech lady:  "Looks like Millie... IS A BILLY!!!!"

Here is a shot of The Willie from the bottom looking up.  His little legs are on the sides (yes, he has feet - I asked - they just look like stumps because the feet are bent up) and The Willie is in the middle. 

Hooray for boys!!!!!!!!!!!!!

240 Minutes to Go.....

You are probably wondering why I am up so early.  Today we find out if little Millie is really a Milton!  I am like a kid on Christmas!  I thought about making a paper chain to countdown the minutes until 1pm (and even had to confirm with Willis that there were indeed 240 minutes in 4 hours ... math has never been my strong suit), but he informed me that it would probably take me longer than 240 minutes to make all of the little paper parts, so I decided against it. 

I am up so early that I woke Willis up before he had to get up for work to ask him if he wanted bacon.  He did, but then I realized that we were out of eggs, and you can't have bacon without eggs, so no bacon for Willis.  I guess a housewife is supposed to ensure that grocery staples like eggs are in the house, but I'm still in training.  We were going to go to the diner down the street, but no time before his morning meeting.  I mean, someone's gotta bring home the bacon (PUN INTENDED)! 

This gender business has been a long road.  When we first found out the great news about Millie, I couldn't IMAGINE not finding out what we were having.  (How can you properly bond with a baby that is an "it" for 10 months??  and yes people, it's 10.)  But then my feelings changed when I took my last work trip to Boston and talked to a few people who had gone the unconventional route.  (There are so few surprises left in life!!!!  It helps you get through labor!)  And, since I'm generally just influenced by the last people I talk to about things, I decided we weren't going to find out after all.  (Below is little Millie as we know her today, still an "it" ...but still calling her a she since I know that is what she is.)

Willis went along with this for a while (after all, I am the one who had an alien invade her body, not him), until he fessed up that he really didn't want to be surprised in the delivery room.  His sister, Heather, told me about someone she knew who had the doctor write it out on a card, and then the people opened it later at a party.  A good compromise, I thought.

Being the good husband that he is, Willis is taking me to a nice resort for my birthday next month.  (Coincidentally, my spa package also comes with golf for him, but I'm sure he didn't realize that.)  He thought it would be a nice idea for me to open it at dinner for my birthday, and even coordinated it with the hotel person he's been dealing with.  A done deal.

That is until we were at PF Chang's last Thursday, and I decided that there was NO WAY NO HOW I COULD POSSIBLY WAIT UNTIL THE WEEKEND OF OCTOBER 10TH.  It seemed like torture.  So, here we are today.

All signs are pointing to girl. 

- I was really sick for the first 3ish months, and I just know that no sweet boy would do this to his mother.

- The Chinese gender calendar said GIRL

- IntelliGender, the trusty new pee test from from the drug store, also said GIRL.   

Which means, I am sure, that it's a Milton!!!

Stay tuned! 

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Prego Dreams

As it turns out, when you're pregnant, you have really weird dreams.  I had always heard this, but didn't realize just how weird until one of my naps last week.

Speaking of naps:  Since my "retirement," I have lots of time on my hands, so am reading no less than 12 prego/childcare/nursing books all at the same time.  I am in information overload. 

I am hoping it is for this reason that I had a vivid dream I was breastfeeding my cat.

I was in the car, being driven around (per usual) by who I assume is Willis.  I was so happy that little Millie was really "latching on" and that everything was going well.  But I looked down, and instead of Millie, it was Sox!!!  I remember thinking in my dream, "well this doesn't seem right" - but I just went with it.

I never thought that I could feel awkward around an animal until now....