After I get myself ready in the morning, I wake Babboo up. I like to get him dressed in our bed. That way he can stay warm in the covers while I’m changing his diaper and putting his clothes on. Plus The King likes to snuggle with him for a bit.

Every morning I’m afraid he’ll pee while I’m in the middle of changing his diaper. But he never has.

Until this morning.

You know what’s awesome? (And by awesome, I mean not awesome.)

He totally pissed on my side of the bed. And since I was running late for work, I just left it there with the intent of cleaning it up when I got home from work tonight. But then I forgot about it and sat in it a few minutes later.

I totally sat in someone else’s pee. My butt was all wet. With someone else’s pee.

The awesomest part?

Yeah, I didn’t change my pants. Whatever, I was in a hurry. And it will dry, eventually.

And that, my friends, is the kind of day I’m having.

(For something a little more romantic-ish and less pee-ish, you can see my latest post over at my other blog.)

I was walking out of work yesterday, trying to get my new iPod all set up for the walk to Babboo’s school when a coworker jumped in the elevator with me. I don’t know this man. He’s one of the 500 fellow employees of my huge firm. I have seen him before. Mostly I see him outside our building lighting up his cigarette, several times a day.

Yesterday he decided to strike up a conversation with me. He asked me if I was planning on getting the new iPhone. I just laughed and told him I’m so far behind the times that I only recently got my first iPod. He asked me how much my new iPod set me back. I told him they aren’t cheap.

He told me his wife stays home with their kids while he works to support them. Therefore he didn’t think he’d ever be able to afford an iPod.

This guy saw me pregnant. He knows I have a baby. He knows I’m a working mom.

I instantly felt the need to justify my iPod. I told him that I got a referral bonus for getting someone hired at our company. I told him I used that money to buy myself the iPod and that under any other circumstances I wouldn’t have splurged on myself like that.

I knew I was trying to justify it. I felt horrible doing it. What I really wanted to say was, how much do those cigarettes you’re smoking set you back? I wanted to tell him that if he quit smoking he could buy his own iPod in a month or so.

But I didn’t.

Instead I just stood there with my expensive iPod in my hands and felt like a selfish woman. A woman who spends her money on worthless things like diamonds, furs and fast cars while a stranger raises her baby.

I don’t care that this guy smokes. That his prerogative. That wasn’t the point. The point was that while he was making me feel bad for the money I spent on myself, he is doing the same thing with his cigarettes.

And that isn’t fair.

I talked to The King about it this morning and about how it made me feel horrible. He told me I should have told the guy to shove it in his cornhole. Which sounds good in retrospect, but probably wouldn’t have gone over so well in the company elevator.

Actually The King me that I shouldn’t have felt this way. And he’s right, I shouldn’t. This guy doesn’t know what our situation is. He doesn’t know that we’re building a house for our family. That we’re building it ourselves because the housing market in Seattle is such that we wouldn’t be able to afford one any other way. He doesn’t know that we only own one car in an attempt to save money. He doesn’t know that we donate a hefty amount of money to charity with each paycheck.

He doesn’t know.

See look, I’m justifying it again. But this time to the internet.

I’ll shut up now and show you pictures in honor of Valentines Day. Hooray!

I walk by a store everyday on my way home. Their latest window makes me think of Frema and her love of all things Post-It notey. I finally took a picture of it yesterday. You can’t see it, but the small purple note says, All You Need is Love on it. It really is a beautiful window and totally appropriate for Valentines Day, yo.

Babboo also wanted to send you his love. His very tiny, yet snuggly love. Since he can’t type yet, he asked me to help him make a sign to share with the internet. Who could say “no” to this face? Not me.

What did The King get me for Valentines Day, you ask? He had been talking it up as the best gift ever.

While it didn’t cost him more than $5.00, it is pretty thoughtful. Especially since I had lost the original one a few months ago.

Thanks baby, Happy Valentines Day. I hope you like the socks I got you.

My sister and her husband are moving. (Not to Seattle, unfortunately.) They live in an old house and the heat hasn’t been working properly all winter. The property managers haven’t been very good about getting it fixed. Basically my sister and her husband are fed up with being cold and having to sleep with an electric blanket at night. Plus they aren’t technically allowed to have their cat at this house and my sister is sick of keeping her curtains closed for fear that the property managers will drive by and somehow see the cat in the window. They are anxious to move into a nice, new apartment in a complex where things get taken care of and their cat is welcomed.

I don’t blame them really.

They’ve been looking for a new apartment for few months and recently found the perfect one (it even has a storage unit). They were just waiting to see if there was an opening. They got the call last week that they could move into their new place in March. When my sister called their current property managers to give them their 30-day notice they were told that they would still have to pay rent for all of March. I wasn’t really sure how that worked out and my sister wasn’t either. She read through their contract and still wasn’t sure what the deal was. But dang it, they weren’t going to pay rent on a place they weren’t even living in.

They were told that if they could rent out the apartment themselves, they wouldn’t have to pay for rent for March. So they hung the “For Rent” sign in their window and waiting for someone to call them.

Someone called. He was excited about the house. He wanted to come and look at it right away. My brother in law set it up for him to come that night. But my brother in law works night and wouldn’t be home. That meant my sister would have to show some strange guy her house alone. And not just the house, as the guy was “very interested” in their garage/storage area.

When my sister called to tell me about this yesterday I freaked out, “You can NOT be alone in your house with a stranger. Can’t you call one of your friends to come over?!” She said she had called her girl friends, but none of them could come over. Then I asked her if she could call one of her husband’s friends. She said she wouldn’t feel safe with being alone with any of them either.

“Sounds to me like you guys need new friends.”

She just laughed and agreed.

I suggested she call our brother to come over. She didn’t want to bother him. She told me she has a bat in her house, so she could just use that on the guy if something happened, “or he could use it on you!”, was my reply.

She kept laughing at me and telling me to calm down. She said it wasn’t a big deal.

Not a big deal?

Am I the only one that would never be alone with a strange guy in my house? A guy that was “very interested” in checking out the creepy garage?

I finally talked her into calling our mom and leaving the phone on so that my Mom would be able to hear her screams and could call for help. It was the best plan I could come up with on such short notice. My sister said she didn’t want to carry around her phone because “the guy would think I didn’t trust him!” Yeah, you don’t. It’s a stranger. Feel free to not trust him. He should understand.

I made her promise to call me as soon as he was gone so I would be able to stop worrying about her. I also made her promise to say a prayer before he got there. (My sister is of the “non praying” type, so this was a stretch.)

A few hours later she called me back to tell me the dude never even showed up.

She was bummed out because they really do want to find a renter for their house. Me, I was happy she wasn’t beaten with her own baseball bat.

(Why am I the only one that was freaked out by this? Please tell me you are to. Please.)

You know what’s good for the soul of working new-mom?

Leaving the baby at home with Daddy, getting all dressed up in her fancy red shoes, going to a yummy restaurant for dinner and (free) dessert. And doing all of this with her fabulous friends.

You know what’s even better?

The promise from said fabulous friends to do it again in 3 weeks.

(sorry for being too lazy to black out all of their eyes. You know I like to do that.)

Hola, I’m Isabel. For those of you who may be new to my blog, Fridays here at hola, isabel are named King Friday. (Not the King Friday from the Land of Make Believe.)

King Friday is when I turn my blog over to my husband, The King. He gets to blog about anything he wants. I don’t censor him. I copy and paste his e-mail into my blog. So dude, it’s posted before I even read it. That being said, you can’t judge me on what he writes about.

He used to give out prizes for different things, but he hasn’t done that in a while. (Maybe because the job of actually mailing the prizes out always landed on my lap.)

Anyway, welcome to this week’s edition of King Friday. Enjoy.

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What is the story with valentines day anyway? I love Isabel, but seriously, why valentines day to show it? I could spend a bunch of money on some kinky undies, but that’s basically a valentine for me, and they’ll just end up sharing the same drawer with the other attempts at sexy stuff that have been unsuccessful over the years. Girls, if you want to get your man something nice, get him some naughty women’s underwear. Then wear them for him. He doesn’t care about a card, or some candy. Get yourself the smallest, see-through-est underwear you can afford, and then have the self esteem to wear them now and then. (but only wear them for a minute or two, then you know, take them off.)

Flowers. I kinda don’t do flowers since about 5 years ago when some flowers that I bought were left in the back seat of the car to rot, and the following statement was made: “guys only give flowers when they are apologizing or they want something.” I wasn’t guilty of either.

Anyway…So what else? I’m usually a pretty good gift giver. But I’m out of ideas on this one. What’s the best valentine for someone you love more than anything in the world, but isn’t into romance? Someone that you want to know that you will always be there for them through whatever comes down the path, but aren’t sure how to get the point across?

Maybe I’ll just try the underwear again…

I made it to the hospital yesterday just in time to see them The King being wheeled in his hospital bed to the recovery unit. The side of his face was swollen and he looked like he was dead. It made my heart ache to see him looking that way, all vulnerable and puffy. I asked him how it went and he told me he had a “bagel reaction” when they gave him his IV. And now he wanted some cream cheese.

It’s actually called a vagal reaction and it means that needles make you sick. It does not come with cream cheese and a hot tea.

After getting him to sit down and relax a bit, they got his IV in. Next thing he remembers, he was coming to and was in some pretty “intense pain”. When the recovery nurse asked him to rate his pain; “10 being the worst pain imaginable and 1 being no pain” he said; “It’s a 6.5!!”

A 6.5, people! For the removal of a little growth on the inside of his lip.

I don’t think I got above a 4 during labor. A FOUR!!! When I’m told that 10 is “the worst pain imaginable”, I can imagine some pretty horrible pain. Maybe half of my head being cut off. Or my ear being severed. Or biting off my own pinky finger. Dude, that would hurt.

I thought I would take a quick bus to the hospital, pick up The King, drive him home and get back to work. All on my lunch break. Of course it didn’t happen like that and I ended up spending almost 2 hours at the hospital waiting for him to get dressed and remember where he put his iPod and wallet. I also had to get his pain medication prescription filled. And then get him settled on the couch with the remotes and a bowl to throw up in. I couldn’t make him an ice pack since our ice trays were empty.

(Yeah, thanks to whoever used the ice last and didn’t refill the trays. I know it wasn’t me, as I hate ice. It must have been the cat. Yeah, I’m blaming the cat.)

The King just kept saying, “I didn’t know it was going to be this bad!” and “I can’t get up without having to vomit.” Yeah, being put under will do that to a person. I could have told him that, as I’ve had multiple medical procedures over the last 2 years.

Have I ever told you about the time I had to have a colonoscopy?

A simple search of this site tells me that I haven’t. That’s probably a good thing as Emily Post says a lady never talks about anything having to do with her colon. I love how wikipedia says that a colonoscopy is “minimally invasive“. Because is anything that enters in through your anus really “minimally invasive”? I think not.

A few years ago I was having, let’s call them, issues. Issues which lead me to pulling my pants down in front of my doctor. Which then lead to me pulling my pants down in front of a doctor that specializes in areas of the rectum. Which then lead to said doctor performing the awfulness that is called a colonoscopy.

This is something that a lovely 30 year old woman does not like to have done. Have you ever had one done? They are not fun. The actual procedure wasn’t so bad, as I was completely out of it for. It was the prep that was horrible. I couldn’t eat any solids for 24 hours, and then I had to take some medicine that would make me pass any type of food item that I may have eaten in my entire life. Since I’m so mature, I laughed during all of that. I mean, how can you not laugh?

7 polyps were removed from my body. 7 polyps are way too many for anybody, let alone a 30 year old woman. The polyps were not cancerous, but still, 7 is a very high number. The doctor was concerned. He suggested I come back in for another colonoscopy in 6 months. Yeah, cause that’s something I want to be doing every 6 months for the rest of my life.

I got pregnant soon after. The doctor advised I want until the baby was born to have another colonoscopy. After Babboo was born I called to schedule one. They told me that since I’m breastfeeding I can’t take the medication needed to prepare for the colonoscopy.

I’m still breastfeeding, so it hasn’t happened yet. It’s been so long since the first one that I’m afraid to do it again. What if the second time is worse? What if they find more polyps? What if you guys all make fun of me for admitting to this?

Anyway, The King is back to work today. With half a swollen face and stitches sticking out of his mouth. He’s feeling so much better. Phew.