Top Five Things

Top Five Things I Feel The Need To Discuss:

1. This just in, the boy hates hot dogs. So far, in his young little life, I thought this was a result of the aversion to textures he's been having. I mean, let's face it, you've gotta bite into the tube steak to get the explosion of warm meaty goodness that comes from eating, well, something that we all try not to think of while we're eating it. I, myself, am not even sure what a hot dog is. I've heard everything from left over bits of the animal to ground up innards to piggy willy. For awhile, in high school, I boycotted them altogether. And by awhile I mean a few months until I realized that while it may, in fact, be piggy willy--hence the lovable nickname wiener--it is darn good tasting and I vowed never to uncover the true source of its goodness. I digress. Garrett hates 'em. Today I made him one for lunch thinking, yah they cause brain cancer but I think you have to eat like 92,000 of them, not, you know, one. And I held it in his mouth like we do with all the foods that he has a texture aversion, and not a taste aversion, to. The poor little guy made the worst face ever and, when I let go, promptly gagged it out. So I ask you, what kid hates hot dog? Mine will be the four-year-old at the birthday party who rudely turns his nose up at dinner. "Excuse me, could you make me filet mignon? I detest tube steak."

2. Grey's Anatomy is getting on my nerves this year. I'm still going to watch it tonight but let's get real. As my good friend pointed out, if any of the doctors at Seattle Grace took on Callie Torres, they'd be crunched in a matter of seconds. With the one exception of Dr. Bailey. And maybe Alex. Maybe.

3. I have an unhealthy obsession with my gynecologist. I mentioned in my last post that I was going to desperately miss her when we move. Actually, I said that I was going to make her come with me. Well, I had my annual intrusion this week and, turns out, she's not coming. I mean, I didn't come right out and ask. That would be...well...she's not supposed to know I'm her stalker. Inside I pleaded, "Come with me come with me come with me come with me puhlease!" What I actually said was, "I'm not looking forward to getting a new hairstylist and a new gynecologist. So, I'm just going to get my hair cut when I visit my parents but, I don't suppose Kaiser will let me keep seeing you." She thought about it for a minute and then said, "Probably not." She did tell me that I could call her anytime and that Salt Lake has wonderful doctors and that goodness knows they're in the business of babies there and blahblahblah. "Yes. It might be true. Give me a hug. Hold me. Don't ever let me go." I...um...didn't...actually...say...that...last...part...I'm...not...truly...insane. But oh how I love her. Okay. I am. I am indeed, truly, insane.

4. I'm shifting through memories and trying to figure out which ones are worth keeping and which ones can be sold at a garage sale. It makes me nauseated. Even things like old green chairs that were long used when we acquired them. Nostalgic Me: But we used them in the MVA shows last year! Declutterer Me: Get rid of them, pack rat! And things like t-shirts from when we were going to adopt a kid from Ukraine. Nostalgic Me: Oh, remember how we were going to get a kid from Ukraine and how it was going to cost $32,000 and we had $1,000 and we were just praying and praying that God would provide? Declutterer Me: He did provide. He gave you a beautiful biological son and even though you want to adopt some day in the future you are not going to use America World because once you were pregnant and you tried to get your deposit back they were really rude and kept it all even though no services had been rendered so sell the shirt, stupid.

5. I want another baby. Now. Please. Actually, immediately. Just for the information of anyone who has been dying to know but hasn't asked--I think there are still a few of you out there. Yes, we would like another one. Yes, we have been trying to have another one. Yes, we have, in fact, been doing so for 6.5 months. Yes, many people have no trouble getting pregnant again once they have a child. No, I am not those people. No, it is not even a little bit close to the horror it was the first time. Yes, it is still horrible. Yes, I am still besidemyselfjealousofwomenwhocanjustsmilesweetlyattheirhusbandsandgetpregnant. No, I do not wish these same people dead. No, I do not want Garrett to be 35 years older than his sibling. Yes, I am a little concerned about what it will be like to be infertile in the land of 20 billion babies. No, I am not going to try to steal your baby. I promise. Any questions?