Junebugger

Dearest Junebug (that was your name before you were born),

Today you are thirteen months, one week and four days old. I am compelled to write to you because the internet is down at work and when mommy doesn’t have much to do at the office, she thinks about her life with you.

Now let’s see…your latest talents are blowing on things and dancing fever. You blow out any candles that are lit and you blow on anything that I tell you is hot. If the oven is hot, you blow on it. If the bath water is hot, you blow on that, too, and all the food you eat gets a puff of your breath as well.

Uncle Joey and Aunt Misty got you a refrigerator DJ and you punch it every morning like the Fonz at the jukebox in Al’s Diner. I get to hear the first two seconds of all the songs before you randomly decide on one for us to dance to in our Pjs. Lately, you’ve found rhythm in the choo-choo sound your train table makes and your high chair dancing is the BEST! It’s like watching an inchworm move in place. Lately you’ve actually been moving to the beat which is a big deal to your papa.

You also enjoy jumping on the bed which is actually more like just the idea of jumping instead of actual jumping but I know what your intentions are. You’ll get there soon enough.

For the past week or so, you’ve loathed bath time. I thought I had changed your mindset when I bought you Elmo watermelon scented bubble bath but I think the idea of washing up in what is the equivalent of sugarless Kool-Aid made us both sick to our stomachs. The sweet stench is a tad overwhelming. Two nights ago I bathed with you but you just thought it was an all you can nurse buffet with bubble accents.

Last night I was calculating the few hours a day I get to spend with you when, in the beginning, I was with you 24/7. Now this cherished time has been whittled down to only 4.5 hours a day Monday through Friday and 48 on the weekends. It just doesn’t seem fair but we have to make money to pay for all of my diamonds and furs. That was a joke, son. Hopefully, someday soon our time spent together won’t be so abbreviated. Mommy and daddy dream real big.

Love you,
Mommy

Baby All Weekend...And It's Wednesday Already?

On behalf of my husband's busy schedule, we attended an all day baby labor and delivery class this past Saturday. I couldn't imagine subjecting him to a collection of Thursday night sessions like some of my friends have to endure (Hello, Brent!). It was held in the waiting room of my OB's office from 9-4, a bataan death march of sorts. It was your typical Readers Digest version of a moment that will change your life forever distilled down to an abbreviated series of leg crossing, vagina clenching topics. You wonder if a) the instructor (a great nurse, by the way!) covered everything you need to know and b) if you'll remember anything she has said. We watched a video circa 1984 that highlighted 3 different deliveries by 3 different couples. In one, the woman barely made a whimper as her baby burst on the scene. Who delivers like that? You could barely hear her breath much less give birth. Her husband was saying all of the right things and they lived happily ever after. The second delivery was hilarious. Young couple, woman in what seemed to be a normal, painful labor and her youngish husband doing the best he could to console her. He stroked her hair (which she angrily made him stop doing), he blamed the labor on a philly cheesesteak sandwich she had eaten earlier, and held up a photograph of their calico cat for her to focus on. THAT provoked giant laughter from the group. It is suggested that we bring with us something visual to focus on when we are in labor but the random kitty head shot was just too funny! At the end of the all day course (filled with many potty breaks and rummaging through the basket of free cookies, candy, gum and breakfast bars), we toured the Seton Hospital delivery rooms. It's your standard intimidating collection of Frankenstein-esque beds with wires and gadets attached, hidden emergency medical gear, monitors and the uncomfortable reclining chair for dad to nap in and man the TV remote from. The tour ended with a peek into the delivery room where a newborn was getting it's first bath. A shiny new daddy was standing over the tiny bright pink person with a shellshocked, befuddled look on his face. It didn't help that 20 pregnant women and their spouses had just crowded the window to share his overwhelming moment. Poor fella.

Sunday was Junebug's karaoke baby shower and it went off without a hitch! Great fun was had by all! It didn't take as much effort as I thought it would to turn the Elk's Lodge banquet room (est. and still looks like 1953) into a cozy partying retreat. With the mammoth swimming pool, stuffed elk head and Austin skyline in the background, how could you go wrong? Many in utero thanks go to Sharon, Bonnie and Christi for their tireless help. I couldn't have done it without them. The "make a clay figurine for Junebug's room" table was a hit! I couldn't believe the creativity that resulted in tiny reditions of a fireman, rubber ducks, a rainbow, a cabaret performer, a rockin' skunk, a sword fighting mouse, and many, many others. Lest not forget the vagina and penis expertly crafted with a plastic baby sitting at the base of the member. I love my naughty girlfriends! Mommy will have place that one at the back of the display shelf. Sorry, girls.

My husband comandeered the karaoke machine switching back and forth between Guy Fantasy, David Bowie, Elvis, Mick Jagger, and himself. He was completely in his element heckling our friends and striking Ziggy Stardust poses. Junebug got some great gifts and mommy had fun opening them the next day as she recuperated from the lengthy event. The long day and late evening of loading out (daddy got to go play a show at the Hole In The Wall and missed the post-party clean-up, of course) kept me in bed most of the next day as I was swollen, sore and a bit disoriented. Whew!

Oh, about mom's date. Let's just say I put the kibosh on men who are almost 50 and live in duplexes, don't own their own business but make it sound like they do, and talk about their mother A LOT. Oh, and don't interrupt my little brother...ever! I'm not making a judgement call on all personalities or lifestyles of this nature, just when they have the potential to be with my fabulous mom.

It's All About Me

I must say that I'm doing a terrible job of keeping up with this blogging thing which makes me feel like I don't deserve to have my own blog. It would be easier to maintain if we were actually living in the home where we are paying a giant mortgage and where our wireless internet access is housed but instead we are pretending that the duplex we are living in now is home, sweet home and has everything we need.

I'm hosting my own baby shower this Sunday. I'm too much of a control freak to let someone else do it and besides, I don't have anything else to do (still need to pick out floors for the house under construction, design the kitchen cabinet layout, decide on exterior paint colors, plan the nursery, go to my day job, be a wife, grow a healthy child...). I'm calling the soiree "Junebug's Karaoke Baby Shower" and it's turning out to be quite the bash. Hopefully, I'll get everything done before it actually starts. My to do lists are ridiculously lenghty.

My mother and youngest brother (20-year-old fine hunk of paramedic/fireman) are making the four hour drive to the shower day of. She called night before last to tell me she's bringing a date to the shower (mother is somewhat recently divorced). She could barely contain her excitement. This is her first date post years of painful dishonesty with a man who really let her down. The "date" has no idea what he's in for. Being the eldest, I feel it is my duty to screen all prospective suitors interested in my wonderful and deserving mother and put them through a battery of tests, quizzes, physical agility feats, and personality screens. I also require a complete financial statement before date number two. We'll see how it goes.

I went to see my massuse last night and I got buffed to a blissful shine. She is truly remarkable in her technique and I can barely drive myself home after the treatment. Unfortunately, Junebug felt it necessary to train for some in utero marathon the whole hour so just as I'm channeling a nice warm spot on the beach in Kauaii, the baby's breaking pole vaulting records. At least I know the kiddo's active and alive.

Today is my glucose screening at the doctor's office. I get to drink a very unnaturally orange beverage and then have blood drawn. My friend, Wendy, claims the drink is REALLY good. In fact, she's mentioned it a couple of times. I'm waiting for her to offer me money for it any minute.