Can I Just Register for Clothes?

Now that I know I'm having a boy, I've been perusing infant boy clothes on the interwebz. Since it's no longer fun to shop for myself (I refuse to buy expensive maternity clothes, and it's no fun buying cheapy versions)...it's time to shop for my boy.

I love the doodling-feel of this cartoon onesie, perfect for a summer baby (Old Navy):


and this preppy little patchwork romper (bonus points cuz it's not blue!) (also Old Navy, I think):


I also find jokey-onesies hard to resist (Old Navy):


Here's a jokey-onesie for mommy (some t-shirt site):


And one for daddy! (same t-shirt site)

Peon-0; Firm-1

I've decided to keep score.

I'm going to count and record all the times my job unexpectedly pwns my weekend or vacation.

Last weekend is Pwnage #1 of 2010. I got a warning Friday morning that an assignment will drop in my inbox at around 5pm that day. And I'll, unfortunately, have to work for about 10 hours on the weekend to finish it up.

The irony is the document did not come in Friday night. Or Saturday. Or Sunday. But I still cleared my schedule and lived like I was under house arrest.

Okay, truth be told, it wasn't that bad. I still went shopping, played board games, visited a friend, and ran errands. But if the circumstances were different, it could've been a total disaster!

In other news--I got really depressed this weekend thinking about how my days of freedom and frolicking on a whim are soon to be over. With an infant, it will no longer be possible to live a care-free, unfettered existence. :-(

Just As I Suspected...

Well, it came and went, the big gender revealing ultrasound.

It is, as I hoped, as I intuited from the beginning, a boy! At least that's what the technician assured me. She said it was definitely, definitely a boy. I said, really? How can you tell? Because seriously, other than seeing some vertebrae and fingers at certain points, everything else just looked like blobby fuzz to me.

I am, much to the spouse's frustration, severely directionally and spatially challenged. So trying to make out what was appearing on the screen was like telling a dyslexic monkey to write backwards while looking in a mirror.

The technician would point out different body parts--see, there's the kidneys--and I would feign understanding with a weak--oh, yeah, uh huh. But really, in all truth, I had no idea what I was looking at. It didn't help that the fetus was moving around like a astronaut in zero gravity--doing flips and somersaults constantly. I guess I drank too much coffee and sugary fruit juice beforehand (deliberately) so I could be sure that it moved enough for us to peer into its privates.

Here's a pic of him with his feet in the air, attempting a back flip.


I never realized how anxiety prone the whole experience would be though. I thought we'd check out the gender real quick, get some measurements and breeze outta there. Instead it took over an hour as the technician catalogued every major organ and made sure all the limbs were present. I found myself holding my breath for long periods until the technician would say, "all there" or "all normal."

Thankfully, so far, so good.

Poop

I heard the best quote today on NPR.

They were doing some story about a laid off dad who now spends everyday at home with his infant, which he really enjoys. And then the narrator said something like, but every situation has its downside...

"Poop," said the dad's voice, "Poop is the major downside."

[End scene]

I laughed hysterically. That is pure poetry.

By the way

I just have to say 2 things really quickly.

(1) It is really unbelievable how often I need to pee. Un-freaking-believeable. Literally, I've gone 4 times in the last hour, and that's when I'm really really holding back and waiting until I feel like I'm going to burst. (Even now, as I write this, I'm debating whether to suck it up or make it 5 times before the hour's up!) And I didn't even drink any water yet! I hear this alarming trend is only going to worsen as the bladder gets ever more squished. In which case, I will just shoot myself. Or get really really dehydrated in an attempt to stay at my desk.

(2) It's so funny to live in a land of "quarter-clothing". I have clothes that only fit me during my first trimester. Different clothes that will fit me correctly in the second trimester (which are not maternity, just loose and long normal clothes). And clothes that will only fit in the third trimester (cuz they're too huge and tent-like prior to). And then, of course infant clothes follows the same 3 month schemes from 0-3, 3-6, 6-9, and 9-12. I'm so used to buying "classic" clothing that will stand the test of time. So it's just wierd to think of clothing as so short-lived it can't even survive half a year. Wierd and kinda' wasteful.

Boiz v. Goyls

I don’t know why this Wednesday is such a big deal to me.

I’ve been awaiting it eagerly for 10 weeks now and it’s kind of driving me crazy with anticipation.

Why does it matter so much to me to find out the fetus’ gender? Both genders have their trade-offs and luckily I live in a society that doesn’t limit the potential of either one.

Girls
Are calmer, less rowdy, easier to watch over
(But are insane drama queens during puberty)
Have much prettier clothes
Are more nurturing as adults
The spouse would slightly prefer a girl over a boy

Boys
Are emotionally less complicated than girls
Would fulfill my long-held desire to have a mini-version of the spouse, complete with matching outfits.
Little man clothes are really cute

I guess in my more lucid and introspective moments, I’d admit it’s such a big deal to me cuz deep down, I want a boy slightly more than a girl. Girls kinda freak me out. I'm afraid of them. They are mysterious creatures who have befuddled me throughout my life. They often don’t say what they mean and don’t mean what they say. They are sweet one day and cold the next. They make passive aggressiveness an art form. They get angry at me and I have no idea why--and it’s worse to ask. And I just never know if I’m coming or going.

I need explicitness. I need logic and reason and bluntness. I’ve always found guys to be refreshingly obvious and, well, simple (in a good way). Although they can be frustratingly non-verbal, at least you always know where you stand with them. If they are not cool with you, they’ll tell you so, to your face, and they’ll tell you exactly why. And they have such simple needs--to be fed, to be praised, and to be, uh, exercised…much like a household pet.

But it’s not that I’ll be disappointed if it’s a girl. I’ll just need a little more mental preparation to embrace the idea, I suppose.

And in other news, the belly continues to protrude. 4 weeks later, it’s still not that big, but definitely grew. It’s like a reverse before-and-after diet picture. Now none of my old pants fit at all. I officially live in a land of no zippers.

Bonus points to anyone who can guess the gender just by looking at the belly! Taking bets until Wednesday 5pm PST.

Four Entries for the Price of One

So I've had some random-ish thoughts lately, which apparently, I just HAVE to share:

Random Thought #1: How I Lost Out on Making Thousands of Dollars on Sunday

Stupid me. Stupid, stupid, uninitiative, passive me. Why oh why can’t I think more like Warren Buffet and less like, well, like my unambitious self. Once again, for the 2nd time in my life, I’ve passed up on a sure bet. A Sure Bet.

I know that sounds like a Vegas-junkie talking to his rehab counselor, but seriously, it was a sure bet. I just saw Roger Ebert on Oprah give his predictions for the Oscar winners TWO days before the awards show and he said it was the easiest Oscars for him to predict, ever. EVER. The man has been doing this for a very long time. And of course, every single one of his predictions came true--best supporting actress, best supporting actor, best actor, best actress, best director, and best picture.

I’m tearing up as I type this. I could’ve bet money on each of these categories and become a pretty rich lady. Sigh.

Random side note--Did you know Ebert married a wonderful black lady named Chaz? They are the cutest couple.

Random Thought #2: Will Gabourey Ever Work (as a lead) Again?

Howard Stern says Gabourey is “enormous” and will never be in another movie. As crass and unnecessarily vicious as Stern sounds (trust me, I did not quote the worst of it), weren’t we all wondering that same thing? What kind of roles will she get in the future? Starring roles? Best actress nomination roles? I’m not saying she’ll never work as an actress again, but she won’t be up for the lead role.


Sadly, I think the most she may be nominated for again is best supporting actress. Since when has a plump girl ever been nominated for best actress? Even the slightly fluffy ones don’t get lead roles--Jennifer Hudson, Mo’nique (okay, Kathy Bates is an exception), but you get the idea. But maybe, just maybe they’ll make Precious, the sequel.

Random Thought #3: The Right to Know Who We Are

There are 2 shows about to premier featuring celebrities tracing their ancestry and tearing up in front of the camera, so moved are they to find out their lineage. Although, at first, such detective work seems like the ultimate act of narcissism, I’ve now come to appreciate how strongly our identity is linked to the family members who came before us. We are not an island, shaping our identities from a tabula rasa. We have histories and traits and imprints that have begun shaping us before we even grew to be self-aware. That’s why people universally want to know and are so moved when they find out about their family histories. They are finding out about themselves. I imagine it is the burning question of all adopted children at some point in their lives--who are my birth parents?

Which makes having children through anonymous sperm donation all the more tragic and heartbreaking. Out of ignorance (at best) and delusion (at worst), the women who choose to have kids through anonymous donors are cheating their children out of a fundamental human right--to know who they are. It made me think of this story I read years ago, written by a child of just such a union.

(Not So) Random Thought #4: Name Pains

So, naturally, people have been asking the spouse and I if we have any names picked out for the child. At first we blithely blabbed the names we liked (well, the one name we liked) to anyone. But after being given faces of discouragement (ranging from confusion to down right disgust, DISGUST I tell you) we’ve given up.

Not on the name, but on telling people. Of course it’s a bit of a Catch-22. Maybe everyone’s right and the name we picked does suck. If we don’t take into account the critical comments we might end up damning our kid forever with a bad name. But if we do take into account all the criticism we’ll, well, get an earful of criticism that is just plain annoying.

Actually, people can change their names, so I’m not so concerned about saddling my kid with a bad name from birth.