Apparently, we are NOT finding out the sex of Baby M (BM). It was Mr.M's idea. He's the one who wants the surprise - go figure, he's not the one who has to deal with registries and decorating the nursery, since he's completely and 100% delegated these jobs to me...as the women in the household. Nice, eh?
Also, he wants to marry me. Not now, but like the day after BM is born. I personally don't really wanna go into the hospital and be categorized as a single mother. Who the fuck wants to be a statistic? Definitely not me, thankyouverymuch.
In the middle of this talk we were having about when to do the deed, Keith's eyes started watering, and he said something to the extent of "I know we can do this together, there's nobody else in the world I want to do this with other than you. We make a great team."
This, my friends, obviously made me cry hysterically.
So, the idea will be to do the deed sometime in the summertime, in his dad's backyard. Just the way Mr. M's sister did it last year. So let's hear it for the second shotgun wedding for his family, with the klassy bride sporting a natural-made baby bump.
We were talking a lot about my work status - will I go back to work full time or part time? Will we be able to afford me not working for 12 weeks? Maybe we can - some ducks have to be shot out of the sky in order for this to happen, but I'm pretty confident in taking care of those fuckers.
I'm crying really easily these days. I'm also laughing at the dumbest things. Like at the comedian who's line is basically the "Hot Pockets" song. I used to find him so moronic, and now he's actually making me laugh. My 69 year-old [male] boss was walking around the office today singing Lady Gaga's Bad Romance. I almost died of laughter.
But...on my way to work this morning, a song I haven't heard in ages began playing on my iPod: All For Love by Bryan Adams with Sting and Rod Stewart. You know, the one in The Three Musketeers? I loved that movie when I was younger. I PINED for D'artagnan...played by the best goody-two-shoes ever: Chris O'Donnell - LOVED him. Anyways. I started crying so hard, I had to pull over to the side of the road to avoid getting into an accident. And I sat there for a good ten minutes.
What the hell? I am not normally this emotional. Songs don't normally make me cry. Ok. Maybe I get really upset at the Humane Society commercial that VH1 keeps on airing (everyone knows this one: the one that shows the mistreated kitties, puppies and horsies). I die a violent, painful and horrific death every time I see that damn commercial.
Speaking of the devil, Apollo Puppy has been a true Mamma's Boy lately. We think he knows, and he's hogging me before he has to renounce his mommy rights for a while. And he really smells to me. He's not dirty - it's only been 2 weeks since his last bath - just smelly to me. So I don't let him give me his wet, slobbery kisses.
Back to awesome matters. Baby stuff included. Since "we" have decided not to find out the sex, we are now officially Team Green. This means that nobody can give me anything pink. YAY! Or does it? Please just let me think that way...I truly hate the colour pink. Seriously...I was looking at Winnie the Pooh stuff online today (yup...while at work), and most of it has a lot of pink! Grr...so maybe we'll do animals or monkeys for our nursery motif. Not sure yet. But it's cute to look at this stuff.
When did having a baby get so complicated? From what I remember when I was little, nurseries were not this huge to-do of complicated mobiles, bumpers for the cradle (which, according to Consumer Reports and some other entity, now pose as a suffocation hazard), expensive 'glider' chairs when a simple rocking chair will do, diaper genies (the rubbish bin, anybody?), covers for your crib, video monitors (HUGE waste of money if you live in a TINY 600 square foot apartment), among other things that a new mum must get - unless she wants to be vilified as World's Most Horrible Mummie.
Seriously. I love monkeys. I also love Winnie the Pooh. But I also love plain....and simple - it's kind of nice.
Maybe I'll look for an old rocking chair that I can outfit with a nice cushion...combine with a Boppy Pillow, and I think we're in business. Oh yes. I will try to breast-feed. Let's hope Baby M isn't born with colic, an immature digestive tract, or just plain and simple CRABBINESS.
As I've told Mr. M, if this kid comes out like that, I'm leaving him/her at the nearest grocery store.
Actually, I'd never do that - I'd hire Super Nanny to come to the rescue.