Yesterday I was doing what we all do from time to time. I was trying to make myself feel better.

Isabel: I am totally the hottest new Mom at Babboo’s school.

The King: You think?

Isabel: Yeah. When I went to pick up Babboo today there were a bunch of the other Moms there. So I got a good look.

The King: Well, I beg to differ. I’ve seen about 3 there that look like freakin’ Victoria Secret models.

Isabel: Who’s Mom’s were they?

The King: I don’t know who’s Mom’s they are. Their kids are in the “toddler room” so I don’t know the kids.

Isabel: Oh, the “toddler room”? I was just talking about the “infant room”. I’m the hottest Mom in the “infant room”.

The King: That makes more sense. Yes, you are the hottest Mom in the “infant room”. And then maybe the 4th hottest Mom in the entire school.

Sometimes we just need a good kick of reality. Husbands, gotta love them.

(Tomorrow The King will be posting. I’m not sure what he’s going to talk about this week. Suggestions?)

Today is my older brother’s birthday. I can’t remember how old he is. This is horrible. Even more horrible because he’s the same age as The King. Crap. I don’t remember how old my own husband is.

That being said, please revisit this post that has all sorts of fabulous pictures of my brother (and some of me). Aw, childhood. Good times.

Today I ordered my groceries online for the first time. It only took me 1.5 hours to figure out. I feel so urban.

The groceries should arrive sometime between rightthissecond and 3pm on Saturday.

Shipping only cost me $10.00, which I think is a lot. Especially since the grocery store is less than a mile from my apartment. But when am I going to find the time to go to the grocery store? A time when The King doesn’t have our one car over at the new house?

I wasn’t able to use my almost expired coupons for baby formula and baby food? I can’t use coupons for online orders? And I can’t buy the deli meat in quantities less than a pound? But I don’t need an entire pound of Black Forest Ham.

Looks like we’ll be inviting friends over for ham sandwiches this weekend. Just so we can use up the meat before it goes bad. I wish I wouldn’t have forgotten to buy soda. I guess we’ll serve the sandwiches with water. Or milk. Um, I hope I remembered to buy milk.

I also forgot to buy honey. I bought the bagels, which I love to eat with honey. I think I pass a bakery on the way home from work that has handy little honey packets. Maybe they won’t notice when I start to shovel the honey packs into my backpack. If I get busted, I can always offer a trade for deli meat.

I am such a bad grocery shopper. I always forget something very important (like the honey, duh!), or I buy a fresh can of broth when I have 8 at home. Or I buy more canned beans but no toilet paper.

I’m so terrible at grocery shopping that I’ve looked into taking a college class on it. They have one, they really do. I think it’s called it really is embarrassing that you don’t know how to do this one simple task. Or maybe it’s called you should just put yourself out of your misery. I can’t remember what it’s called, but I need to just pay my $80 and sign up for it. $80 is a small price to pay for never having to wonder the grocery store looking for the damn razors and batteries again, while missing the dairy department all together.

I’m not sure where I get lost. Is it the list writing that gets me, or the preparing a menu for the week part? Is it the fact that I can’t seem to maneuver the shopping cart or could it be the fact that I get all confused once I’m inside the grocery store?

I think it’s that I always seem to get stuck in the bakery department. They make the best M&M cookies in the world. So good that I forget all about the flour and yeast I need to make calzones for dinner.

Please tell me I’m not the only one that is grocery shopping challenged.

Please.

A few years ago The King decided to sign up to participate in a medical study through the University. He had to go in once a month and take a test where he would answer questions like, “how many sexual partners have you had in the last month?” and “do you think you have an STD?” It was super easy for him, you know, since he’s married and not really playing the field anymore.

Plus, I think they paid him fifty bucks every time he went in. Hey, fifty bucks to talk about his sex life. Sweet.

When The King and I were taking our childbirth class we were asked to participate in a study through the hospital and the university. They said something about saving the lives of the children, and maybe something about helping the medical field, or and maybe something about being paid for our help.

You’ll pay me? Sure I’ll help the children.

This study was to take place during baby’s 5th week. Which began last Monday night at midnight. To prepare for this study, I had to watch a horribly delicious movie on child safety. Hosted by none other than Gloria Estefan, bad eyebrows and all. (I’m pretty sure this movie was filmed in the late 80’s. Seriously, it was bad.)

All I have to do for this study is track everything that The Baby and I do for four days. I have to write down when I pick him up, when I feed him, when I put him in a car seat. I even have to write down when I walk away from my baby because of all the screaming. (Thank goodness I haven’t gotten to that point. Yet.)

It’s actually been interesting to track his patterns. After the first day I decided that I didn’t really like getting up every three hours during the night to feed The Baby. That’s when I devised the plan to just let him fuss until he would fall back to sleep.

Low and behold, this sneaky plan of mine works. At least it’s worked for the last two nights. The last two nights in which I’ve only had to get up to feed him one time. I am such a sneaky Mom.

And a newly well-rested Mom also.

Today is the last 24 hours of me logging everything. And then all I have to do is mail in the report and figure out how I’m going to spend my twenty five dollars.

Suggestions?

******

The King’s sister is letting us try out her front pack. I like it. The Baby wasn’t sure what he thought the first few minutes in the thing. But now he’s fast asleep and letting me enjoy the Internet while he gets what he wants. A warm body next to him.

(Notice how I’m still using our totally outdated camera and not the fancy new one we just got? Right, because it’s still in the box. We can’t use it until we read the instruction and figure the darn thing out. Wish us luck.)

I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to admit this. But I must.

I watch 7th Heaven.

There I said it.

But in my defense, I hate it. And I’ve only watched it this season. I know nothing, really, about the show. Just what’s happened this season. And it’s a train wreck.

(TV Goddess, don’t shun me for admitting this. Please tell me you’ll still be my friend.)

This week was the Series Finale. As in, the last 7th Heaven. Ever. Which is really a good thing. I think the show’s been on for like fifteen years, or something like that. It was time to end. Hell, it was probably time ten years ago.

Okay, so I’ve admitted I watch the darn show. And I admit that I don’t really like it. Now I need to admit that I’m not really sure what the finale was even about. Yes, it’s still saved on my TiVo. And yes. I plan on watching it again. You know, just to make sure I didn’t miss anything.

Did you see it?

(This is probably the part where I should announce an upcoming spoiler. But seriously…nobody watches the show, so I doubt I’m spoiling it for anyone.)

Dude-they ended the show by having everyone be pregnant. And not just pregnant. But pregnant with twins. Three of the freakin’ Camden kids are having twins. Right. Like what are the odds of that? I don’t think that has ever happened in the history of the world.

I was happy that Simon didn’t marry Rose. At least I don’t think he married her. They didn’t really come right out and say it. They just alluded to it. And I’m not smart enough to follow the very tricky writers on the WB. (Hey, I have a new baby. I’m not sleeping too much these days. Cut me some slack!) Did you see who Rose didn’t marry Simon for? Umberto, who? What a tool. If life was based on looks alone (and I’m sure it is), Simon could totally kick Umberto’s butt. Blah.

And Jessica Biel really came back for that episode? I hope they paid her well. I started watching the show long after Mary left, so I didn’t really know what was going on there. But she’s pregnant. With twins. And I think her ex husband is the one that knocked her up. (I won’t even mention that this show is about a very religious family. I’m not ready to discuss that with the Internet.)

And one last thing…so, is Simon the father of the Haylie Duff’s baby? The one that we thought Martin was the father of? (Martin, who is super hot, was not on the series finale. What’s up with that?)

Now, last night’s “Veronica Mars” was another story. SO AWESOME.

(And because I know that most of you actually watch that show, I will not spoil it for you. All I will say is what you all ready know: I. Love. Logan. That’s it.)

You know what happens when you spend all day on the phone telling your friends and family, “I feel great! I’m up and around just like I didn’t have major abdominal surgery. This whole Motherhood thing is a piece of cake!”?

You end up in the Emergency Room.

For five hours.

While your husband and week and a half old baby wait outside in the car. Because there is no way I’m bringing my precious baby into the ER. No way.

Or at least not until he’s so hungry and has been screaming for two hours.

Then he can come in. But only after we make sure to not touch anything and not to let The Baby touch anything. Man, hospitals are gross.

So the c-section wound was leaking. Gross puss-ie stuff. That freaked me out. Of course it didn’t happen until five minute after my doctor’s office closed for the weekend. Hence going to the ER for the first time in my life.

Have no fear. Pussy leakage is apparently normal for an incision of that caliber. Even leakage in that amount. Blah. It’s still very alarming to see. Again, blah.

Why is it that the ER always has to be filled with icky people? There was an actual couple totally making out. In the ER. While “Finding Nemo” was playing in the background. And while their daughter was sitting on their laps. I don’t know about the rest of the world, but the germ filled ER does not make me horny.

Maybe I’m the only one.

————-

Today is my best friend May’s birthday. We are meeting for lunch. Wish me luck. I’m not sure how that will work in between feedings and diaper changes. I’m thinking I’ll figure this out, eventually. It’s a good thing we’re just meeting for lunch at a restaurant a block away from my place.

But it’s too bad that The Baby will be wearing a plain white onesie for his first lunch date. The poor thing has pooped on everything he owns and is down to just the basics. It’s his own fault.

Good thing he has so many pairs of jaunty socks to jazz up the outfit.

I’m about to admit something that no human being should ever admit:

Weekends are getting to be too long for me.

Yes, I said it. Weekends aren’t fun anymore. My apartment is too small and I’m too big. Plus our couch seems to sit really low and once I sit down on it I can’t get up. That’s not a good thing.

It’s so good to be back at work this morning in my cozy chair, sitting in front of my lovely laptop. Knowing that I won’t have to get up again until it’s time to go home. Unless I be honest with myself, knowing that I’ll need to get up to go to the bathroom in the next 15 minutes.

So, back to how weekends are hard. It’s not like I can sleep in anymore. I try to stay up later, thinking that “Hey, I can sleep in tomorrow. So it’s cool!”. But I can’t sleep in. Heck, I can’t even sleep.

The King and I usually have really productive weekends. For the last four or so years of our marriage we spent our Saturdays working on our house. Well now that we finished and sold the house, and we aren’t ready to start building the new house quiet yet-our Saturday’s are free. And we don’t know what to do with them.

This last Saturday The King woke up and went over to do a few things at the new house, visited the fabric store for a very cool idea that he has, and got his hair cut. He was productive.

I was left at home alone and wanted to be just as productive.

I started the day by watching “Wimbledon” while paying extra attention to all the males named used in the movie. (I need to find a name for this baby, asap!) Alas, a name was not found. We may end up taking a poll online for a name for this kid. Seriously. (But, not really.)

After the initial guilt of sitting on the couch in my pajamas watching a movie while my husband was out working, I decided to vacuum. When you are 8 months pregnant vacuuming is the equivalent of running a marathon. At least it is in my mind. Even if I only live in a one bedroom apartment. It’s hard work.

I had to follow my marathon with a shower. Which is also the equivalent of running a marathon. Or maybe just a 5K. But it kills me. Especially when I’m expected to get dressed after my shower. And put my shoes on. And blow dry my hair. (I’m starting to sweat just thinking about this!)

Being the “thank you” card freak that I am, I also needed to sit down and write out the 20 cards for the baby shower the ladies at Church gave me earlier in the week. This took a few hours. Hours, people, of sitting at the kitchen table writing. Blah. Good thing I had the new Rhett Miller CD to rock out to.

Okay, so maybe I didn’t actually get to cleaning the bathroom like I had told The King I would. (He did it last time, so it was my turn.) But I did empty the dishwasher. Which is really hard to do, since you know, my belly hinders me from being able to reach the cupboards.

I still felt like I had a productive day.

When The King got home, I asked him what level of productivity I needed to have for him to be proud of my accomplishments. He wasn’t sure what I was asking, or even what the “correct” answer would be.

He said the he was proud of me and he knew I had done a lot of things. Things that were extra hard to do since I’m carrying around our love child in this huge belly.

Did I mention that I also made the bed? I know, you’re amazed.

————–

Today starts my weekly doctor’s appointments. And our childbirthing classes. Which means that we are having a baby. Soon.