The cookie question: to dunk or drown?

When I made that recent trip to Publix for Chips Ahoy, I apparently fascinated my co-worker with the way I eat cookies and milk. I never realized my way was so “bizarre”.
It’s a natural process for me. I just take some cookies and pile them in the bottom of a mug. Then I pour milk over the top of them, break them up, and eat them with a spoon.
I realize that some people like to dunk their cookies, but I don’t. Yes, the cookies eventually get soggy. Once the chunks are gone, I just simply drink the milk, which is then sweetened with cookie crumbs and chocolate chips. It’s not gross- stop thinking that. Most people drink the milk after they eat all the cereal. How is that different?

From the way my co-worker kept watching me in astonishment, you would have thought I was riding a unicycle with a monkey on my back while eating cookies through a straw and juggling three pints of milk. Which begs me to question: how do you eat cookies and milk? Are you a dunker, a drowner, or do you have another way? I can’t be the only cookie drowner out there!

Incubating Crazy

Pregnancy does a lot of weird things to your body and emotions. While I haven’t wanted to throw things at Jon’s head during the past eight months, I have been a lot more emotional. I started calling these crying bouts “episodes.” Jon and I will be sitting on the couch watching TV and I will have to get up and go to the bathroom for tissue. No reason. I’ll just feel like crying suddenly. And, he has been so sweet and understanding of my sudden onset of insanity. But, in all honesty- men have to at least feel a little panic when women start to cry… especially when it isn’t related to anything because there’s nothing they can fix. Sometimes I’ll try and leave the room so he doesn’t know and doesn’t have to deal with the absurdity of it all. But sometimes he just puts his arm around me and lets me cry on his shoulder until I pull myself together.

Hormones are unpredictable and some days/weeks they are more overwhelming than others. I may have one really emotional week, then be totally sane again for the next two weeks. The uncertainty of it all has made Jon paranoid. Now whenever something sad happens on TV, or when there’s even the slightest possibility I could find something emotional, he will look at me and ask, “Are you going to cry?” Being crazy can’t be nearly as challenging as living with crazy.

I wish I could blame hormones on the overwhelming sense of urgency I feel about everything these days. Someone mentions Chips Ahoy and I’m in Publix twenty minutes later grabbing a bag and a pint of milk. I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about how I need to rake and mulch the flower beds around the house. I mean, I can barely get up from a full squat, much less clean out and mulch the flower beds. I had a dream the baby arrived several weeks early and nothing was ready. No crib. No diapers. Nothing. So, in my dream I did what every normal person would do… I tried to put the baby back. No, not in the same sense it comes into this world. I tried holding it really close to my stomach as though it would just morph back through the skin and go back into my uterus. I’ll take episodes of crying over this kind of crazy any day. I also dreamed our baby was born with a mustache, but I’m trying to forget about that one.

Confessions of a Bed-Wetter

I know what you’re thinking. She’s pregnant and she’s now wetting the bed. Um… NO. And, if that were the case, trust me- I wouldn’t be posting it on the internet. That would definitely fall under the TMI category. You’re welcome. Just so we’re clear- I’m not currently peeing in the bed.

Now….

Jon and I were discussing the baby having hiccups in utero.

Me: My daddy used to scare me by yelling at me for something I didn’t do. That was his way of getting rid of my hiccups. Of course, he also used to spank me for wetting the bed.

Jon: You were a bed-wetter?

Me: Yeah, until I was six. I think it had something to do with having to share a bed with my two sisters.

Jon: So, that was your way of marking your territory?

Me: I guess so. We moved and I stopped wetting the bed.

Jon: You were a bed-wetter… wow, I’m learning all kinds of deep, dark secrets about you.

Me: I wouldn’t really call it a deep, dark secret. It’s just not something that comes up in conversation.

Jon (re-enacting an early date conversation): So, what kinds of things do you like do? Well, I wet the bed when I was a kid.

Me: Exactly.

Egging My Own House

Something has happened to me during the last several months of pregnancy. I’ve gotten lazier. The piles of laundry are higher, the layers of dust thicker, and there are more piles of clutter in my house. My once task-oriented, productive personality has been replaced with someone who would rather lie on the couch, eat ice cream and watch TV. I still make the bed every morning (I haven’t gone THAT crazy), but my “neat freak” tendencies have been put on the back burner. Don’t get me wrong, it still makes me twitchy to see the light from the TV reflect off the table dust and my skin still crawls in the midst of a room full of clutter. It’s just that finding the energy to do anything about it is nearly impossible.

Honestly, I don’t tolerate lazy very well, in myself or in others. So, I’m starting to feel judgmental about my own. I know I’m eight months pregnant, but some women are still playing tennis and snow skiing at this point. A little housework doesn’t seem like too lofty a goal.

Yesterday, I decided to motivate myself back into a productive lifestyle… right after a short nap when I got home from work. I allowed myself 30-40 minutes to rest when I got home, then I got busy. One of the obstacles I’ve felt is being too overwhelmed with the amount of stuff there is to constantly do at home. I feel like it takes hours of my time to make any headway. So, I tried a new strategy. I threw some laundry in the washer, grabbed the egg timer from the kitchen, went to the bedroom and set it for 15 minutes. In that time, I made the bed (from my nap), picked up all the clutter, dusted the furniture, and vacuumed the floor and baseboards. The ticking of the egg timer kept me on task so I wouldn’t get side tracked (deciding it would be a good time to flip through that magazine beside the bed). In 15 minutes, the bedroom was clean!

Next, I tackled the bathroom. Let’s face it- if you’re going to spend extra time cleaning anywhere, it should be the bathroom. So, I gave myself 20 minutes there- that included cleaning the shower/tub. It was then time to cook dinner, so I moved to the kitchen. Since the laundry had finished in the washer, I loaded and started the dishwasher. Then, I started dinner. As dinner cooked, I cleaned the kitchen and accomplished both tasks at once. I decided that was enough productivity for one day, so we ate dinner off of paper plates (something we may be doing more often). Even though I didn’t clean the entire house, it felt good to have some rooms cleaned and I can do the others in the next couple of days. I’ll be using the egg timer again as a motivator. If you have some cleaning strategies that work for you, I’d love to know what they are. Who knows, I may find my inner “neat freak” again!

Putting the Foot Down on Weird!

One of my co-workers e-mailed this to the staff. It’s so weird that I had to share it with all of you. I didn’t believe it at first and had to actually watch my foot to make sure it was happening. Have fun.


This will boggle your mind and it will keep you trying over and over again to see if you can outsmart your foot, but you can't. It's programmed in your brain!

1. Without anyone watching you (or with someone watching you if you don’t mind looking crazy) and while sitting at your desk in front of your computer, lift your right foot off the floor and move it clockwise in circles.

2. Now, while doing this, draw the number '6' in the air with your right hand. Your foot will change direction.


I keep thinking I can outsmart my foot, but even pregnancy brain is no excuse on this one.

Two Funny Bunnies

There are many reasons this week is special- the least meaningful of which is that I get to pull out my favorite Easter-related cartoons.

This is my favorite.

And what's not funny about this?


For the record- my Holy Week/Easter reflections and celebrations aren't all this shallow. But, I'm also not above laughing at an Egg Ho cartoon. Happy Easter.

Is 37 the new 90?

Today is my 37th birthday. I could feel discouraged with the thought of drawing another year closer to 40, but I haven’t. I still feel young, am healthy, and I’m pregnant for the first time and have felt great throughout the pregnancy. Jon and I recently went through physicals for a new life insurance policy and I received “preferred” status, which gave me a significantly lower premium. So, I’ve been feeling pretty good about myself.

Until this came in the mail yesterday…



Now seriously. I know that I’m moving around a little slower these days, but that’s what being 7 months pregnant and carrying around an extra 30 pounds of weight will do to you. I CAN still GET around. I initially thought the flyer was some kind of mailing resulting from our life insurance policy, but then I noticed it was addressed to my maiden name. Someone said, “at least it’s not from AARP.” Is that a good thing? AARP would just imply I was old- this implies I’m old AND immobile.

Here are some quotes from the flyer: (these are some gems)

“Make breakfast in the kitchen, go outside and get the newspaper… it’s always a good morning once you call The SCOOTER Store.”

“Visit the neighbors, play with your grandchildren, work in the garden… go to church without feeling like a bother to friends or family.”

“Go out to dinner, attend evening events, be part of life’s celebrations… at The SCOOTER Store we can make it happen!”

Happy Birthday to me.