Back from D.C.--a while ago

I know, it's been a while since I had a post. I'm not sure why, but my life has seemed overwhelming to me lately. However, I have to say it's NOT because of the disaster my house was when I got home from five days away. Zane was very responsive to my pre-trip statement of "If the house is a disaster when I get home, you're in big trouble. And this might be a good time to let you know that when I come home from having a baby" in about five months "the house better not be a mess either." Lo and behold, when I got home the kitchen was clean, with dishes done and trash taken out. I think Zane had Spencer do the dishes since all 6,000 utensils were in the first three sections of the dishwasher utensil-holder, but hey, the dishes were done.

I have lots to say about the trip, but since it's too overwhelming to think of downloading my pictures from my camera (since it would take, like, five minutes), I'm just going to wait a day or so (more) on that. I do want to give you a mental picture, though, of Sabrina holding her giraffe (baff), and telling me it was sad. "Baff sad." And hugging it. And then saying, "Poop!", laying it down on its back, and saying "biper!" Which means, of course, diaper. And then pretending to change its diaper. I'm glad to be home.

Indoor Soccer

CAUTION: The following post is rated T for Teen.

Also, if I've seen you in the last few days, you've heard this story. Sorry.

So, Zane and I have been playing on a family-and-office indoor soccer team. We mostly lose, but I've felt good about my skillz, especially considering I'm getting increasingly pregnant. Anyway, the last game of the first season was Monday at 7, with the first game of the next season Monday at 8. These were to be my last games, as my center of gravity is inevitably shifting.

So, at the first game a rather large (not "tall" if you get my drift) girl was really into pushing me. I confess I did stick my elbow out after a few pushes, but if she hadn't been shoving me it wouldn't have mattered. ANYWAY, she totally took me out and I think I sprained my knee. I was *ahem* not happy with her.

So, in the second half, with about 5 minutes left in the game, I returned the favor. Yeah, I deserved that penalty. What I didn't think I deserved was for her to jump up and come at me, screaming that she was going to f*ing punch me in the face. I was actually really calm, because I could not imagine her actually doing so. Also, I teach middle school, pillow girl, and you can't scare me. The ref quickly removed her.

Well, she obviously couldn't get over it, because after the game she was still yelling abuse at me as I was on the field preparing for the next game. She said I have a big butt. Well, those weren't the words she used, if you get the idea. I explained (civilly, I am sure) that I was 18 weeks pregnant. I did not ask what her excuse was, because I was about to play another game and didn't need any more bad karma. The ref congratulated me on remaining calm and acting as I should have, since if I'd thrown a punch, even though I was defending myself, I would have been the one in trouble. Thanks, thanks. Of course, I'm not sure I even know how to throw a punch.

Next game, another woman on the team whines about another girl pushing. "Is the pushing necessary?" /snottily. Of course, our girl was just bodying up, not really PUSHING. However, near the end of the game this same woman PUSHES me from behind. I ask, politely and rather far away from her, "Weren't you the one complaining about pushing?" At the end of the game she said (snottily) "Nice sportsmanship." Honey, you ain't seen nothing!

So, there were my last two sporting experiences before Tiny #2 is born. I feel I've gone out with a bang.

Advanced Baby

My child is so advanced. She's in the terrible twos despite being only 20 months! So advanced. In the past week she has had tantrums about:

* having to wear pants (this is disturbingly common)
* not getting to stab me with a pencil
* having her diaper changed
* being offered juice
* spilling her juice all over herself and the couch (by rights this should have been MY tantrum)
* having medicine
*having daddy not hold her
* having daddy offer to hold her
* being picked up
* being put down
* et cetera and so forth

I think this would be a good time to start potty training.

Spring Break

It's sad, really. I only get one day of Spring Break. There ARE those who poo-poo my sorrow, saying it's my own fault for only working one day a week. My grief is unabated.

HOWEVER, given the 8 or so inches of snow outside, I'm just as happy to not be going to work today. WHO GAVE THE UNIVERSE PERMISSION TO SNOW LIKE THIS? IN APRIL! DURING SPRING BREAK! My one lousy day of Spring Break, and I can barely step outside because it's snowing? It's really not fair.

Like mother, like daughter

The story goes something like this:

Mom (Saundra): Molly, it's time to take a bath.
Molly (kid): No! (throws fit)
(Daddy comes home)
Molly: Daddy, guess what? I'm going to take a bath!

Mom, I want to apologize.

Molly (mom): Sabrina, let's put on your shoes!
Sabrina (kid): No!
Molly: Should Daddy put on your shoes?
Sabrina: Yeeaahhh. (smiles)

Little stinker.

Baby clothes, slightly worn

Sabrina was getting low on clothes. No, I should be more precise. She was getting short on clothes that fit her. However, after spending around $50 to get about 7 new items around Christmas (and that was 50% off!) I decided I could not buy an entire new wardrobe for her. So, to Cheri's favorite website, KSL Classifieds, I went.

I went two places. The first, the girl sold me her daughter's 24-month and 2T clothes. All of them, no picking and choosing. $60. Do you know what was in there? TWELVE PAIRS of pajamas! Seriously, folks, who needs 12 pairs of pajamas? I've been very happy with four. Well, now I have 15, because her 12 and my four-minus-the-12-month-pair makes 15. That is one pj'd little girl I have.

The other girl had some really nice stuff, and let me choose. Shirts were $1, pants $2. Bargains, bargains! When I got home, I sorted. Pajamas (wow, a big pile); clothes that are cute, unstained, and matching; clothes that are plain so I can decorate them with bee-you-ti-ful designs at sister-in-law project day (when my diaper bag is done); stained clothes that could be salvageable, and stained, mismatched, or totally not my style clothes (like the camo jumpsuit with a deer and "Daddy's little deer" printed on it. Ugh). Result: I totally scored. I don't think I'll have to buy her clothes again until she's a 3T, which knowing Sabrina could be two years from now. Of course, successful bargain hunting always makes me hungry for more...

Pink EEYYYYEEE

Sunday, Sabrina's eyes started getting goopy. Lucky for us all, she had a doctor's appointment Monday, so her doctor could make sure she was gaining weight. Hey, she's up to the 3rd percentile now! SUCH a little chunk! Anyway, it was pink eye. Other than holding her down wrapped in a blanket and prying her little eyes open while she screams and cries, it's been a really, really great experience. However, her eyes look better already, and that's the important thing.