Are you serious people?

Hazel and I went and visited our dear friend, Casey, yesterday.  She lives in a quaint suburb about 20 minutes drive from here.  We exchanged gifts, browsed some of the cute shops, had lunch, and of course, hit up the sbux, where the story takes place.  This particular starbucks was where Casey used to work before becoming a supervisor.  The barista working the bar had remembered me from our one meeting over a year ago.  And she kindly greeted me and told me how cute my daughter was, all things I appreciated.  Then, this one really through me for a loop.  She came around to restock some mugs and said, "you aren't pregnant again, are you?!"  Her tone was generally negative and rude and I couldn't believe she had phrased her question in such a way.  Excuse me? "Yes, I am actually."  I replied, shortly.  "Well, good luck, you are gonna have your hands full."  Thanks tell me something I don't already know.  This is one of my biggest issues with people.  Why make negative comments about things that cannot be changed and/or, are none of your business.  For all intensive purposes, I don't even know this woman, why does she feel she can ask questions and comment about my personal life?  But the fun didn't end there.  Apparently when you have a child anyone feels comfortable walking up sharing advice and showing pictures of their own children.  That is just what happened after Hazel smiled at a gentlemen in starbucks.  He walked right over to me and whipped two photos out of his wallet so I could admire his kids.  Then he proceeded to give me all of his best parenting tips as Hazel ran around breaking mugs and licking the trash cans.  Another pet peeve, can you not see my child is crazy right now and there is no possible way I am digesting one bit of the information you are spueing?  I simply nodded and smiled, but apparently that was enough encouragement for him to talk for 10 minutes straight.  He went into great detail about how him and his wife made a rule that one parent would always stay home with the kids so the other could go to the grocery store in peace.  Good to know.  All this to say he was a very nice man here on business and was traveling back to London shortly.  I thanked him for his advice and wished him a safe flight, as my daughter made one final attempt at getting H1N1 by licking the door.  I am not sure my free latte was even worth it after my experience yesterday......who am I kidding, of course it was!

Sad But True

After arriving over thirty minutes late for my last OB appointment I decided to miss the next one entirely...  I was supposed to have my 26 week diabetes test this morning, or so I thought. I set my alarm, ate a well balanced breakfast, gathered my magazines, since the test takes an hour, and was on my merry way. It was perfect timing, the in-laws were in town to watch Hazel and all I needed to be responsible for was getting myself up, out the door and to the doctor. I allowed plenty of cush time to get to there this time. Upon arriving a full 15 minutes early for my appointment I settled myself in for the long haul in the waiting room. Spreading my books and magazines out on the chair to my right and my coat and purse on the chair to the left. I greeted a father and daughter who entered with a smile and hummed to myself as I ironically opened my book "The Thinking Woman's Guide to a Better Birth." I wasn't half way through one page when the receptionist asked "miss what is your last name again?"  I told her and she responded "I don't have you down for today...oh...your appointment was yesterday."  She offered to get me in a tad bit later in the morning, but Hazel had a doctor's appointment at 10:30 and I knew I wouldn't make it back in time if I took the later time slot.  Tearfully I apologized and she offered to get me in first thing saturday morning.  I rescheduled and this time she wrote the appointment down on a card and handed it to me sympathetically.  Somberly I walked to the car.  The 45 minute drive home was a quiet one, I didn't even turn on my Mariah Carey Christmas cd.  Perhaps I will have better luck tomorrow...

Baby Brain

I was working at Starbucks when I was pregnant with Hazel and one of my co-workers introduced me to the phrase, "baby brain."  She used the term for everything silly thing I would do.  I was pretty annoyed with her at the time.  I thought it was a huge cop-out, assuming that a pregnant woman is automatically flighty and absent minded at all times.  But I have to admit, with this pregnancy I use the phrase all the time.  A few scenarios, if I may.  

At the OBs office a few weeks back I had forgotten, after dutifully tinkling in my cup, to return the bathroom key.  I put it in my pocket and it wasn't until after my exam (45 minutes later) as I was walking out to a waiting room full of other pregos (probably with full bladders as well) that the receptionist asked "Amanda do you have the bathroom key, because you are the last person I remember giving it to."  Sure enough, it was in my pocket, embarassed, I apologized and handed the key over feeling pretty bad that for the better part of an hour no one was able to get into the restroom.  

Then at Wal-mart the other day a woman, out of breath, came chasing after me saying "miss, miss, I think you left your drivers-side door open!"  (She had literally seen me from across the parking lot and followed me all the way to the produce section of wal-mart.  I said "are you sure?"  And she said yes and that she would have shut it but didn't know if I may have left my keys in there as well.  A nice way of saying "If you are crazy enough to leave your driver's side door open and walk away, who knows if your keys may have still been in the ignition and your baby in the backseat."  (which she wasn't, I remembered to grab her).  But I might as well have put a sign on the car "Criminals take notice, lady with scrambled brain's car, please take." There is really no other explanation than "baby Brain."

I won't go into detail about the countless appointments I have arrived both early and late for, due to inverting numbers and times on my planner. Or how many prenatal vitamins I may or may not consume in a day due to forgetting if I have taken one.

Maybe this is early onset dimensia, but for now, I am chalking it up to the precious fetus sucking the sense out of me.  Until next time...

Wanted

After an eventful night at our 'Gymboree Pajama Party', in which we, meaning our family of three, made up a third of the party, we decided to get a quick bite to eat at Portillo's.  It was busy as always we had to park 100 paces away in the Chipotle parking lot.  A conflict of interest I know, but was all that was available. 

Of course as soon as we got inside Hazel wanted "Down" and to "Play".  Phillip is one to just 'release her into the wild'( as I call it) and then get distracted pondering over the double or the triple cheese burger, (while she runs out the door with another family.  I kid.)  However, Hazel has, in a matter of 30 seconds managed to escaped through the airport line-esque barricades and squeeze herself through a (non-prego mom sized) opening in the fake picket white fence separating the ordering and the eating customers.  I, or course, am left to waddle after her, as he continues to ponder the menu. grumbling "he better remember my cheese fries!"

After she ran several laps around the restaurant, told several white headed men "No!," touched everything and anything that may have looked germy, and finally reprimanded herself for wanting to pull a little girls hair (which she didn't actually do, but apparently thought about), she settled her sights on a highchair sitting by the trash can, alone and most importantly unattended (or so I thought).  

She wanted "up" and I was only too happy too oblige.  The high chairs at portillos have wheels so I knew as soon as I had her up and buckled she was trapped and I could wheel her around to wherever we were able to find a seat.  Alas, I spied a worker beginning clean- up on booth clear on the other side of the room and quickly shuttled Hazel over to wait for the table.  Funnily enough the table had a highchair at it already, but I wasn't about to unstrap her and move her to another swine flu breeding ground.  

As Hazel and I sat patiently waiting for our table to be cleaned I was approached from behind with a "Excuse me Miss?"  I turned expecting to be told I had dropped my keys, wallet or child, but instead this polite intro was abruptly followed by "Where did you get that highchair, because I think you stole it from our table."  To which I stuttered a stunned response of "No, I got it over there on the other side of the wall."  To which she rolled her eyes and walked away.  

Let me again reiterate that at the very table we siting at there was an empty high chair sitting in the middle of the floor which wasn't being used.  As a pacifist myself I can't even imagine the strength it would take me to muster up the courage to confront someone who may or may not have taken my high chair. Let alone to march up to them and say the actual words "You -stole my- highchair."   I imagine it would be much easier and less stressful to grab another high chair.  Had I not been so taken aback I would have kindly offered her our surplus which she maneuvered around to make her accusations.  But the idea that I was a thief really caught me off guard.  Then I started second guessing myself.  Maybe the highchair was at a table.  Maybe I did remove their child subcontiously to place mine inside.  Maybe it was her hamburger I was eating as well.  Who am I?  Where am I?  

Although the interaction was brief and non-threatening, I still feared for my life.  Therefore, Phillip had to be the designated utensil, napkin, and condiment runner for the evening, I couldn't risk another run in.  

Luckily, thanks to some good planning, we made it through dinner without another incident.  However, I did check the rear view mirrors the whole way home and will make double triple sure to lock the doors tonight.  That woman had crazy in her eyes and if she is ridiculous enough to confront me about high chair theft, who knows the extremes she may be willing to go to to get her revenge....Until next time...

In the beginning....

I spent a semester abroad in Australia my junior year of college.  In my email communications with my parents I found that simply typing out all I had done and seen that week was, well...boring.   I started to 'doctor' the stories up a bit, adding a few embellished details here and there for entertainment value.    This made the emails fun to type and read as well.  I love telling stories in the written form, especially when I can transform even mundane days into something funny.  So, with the encouragement of my husband I am starting a new blog for story telling.  This may transform into something else completely, but for now we are starting with 'doctored' stories of our daily lives.  Enjoy!