How to Woo Your Wife: Baby-Making Edition

Me: :pouting:
Victor: What's wrong? I'm going to sleep.
Me: We talked about this already...it's Wednesday.
Victor: Wednesday?? Oh, is this about those strips of paper in the bathroom?
(he was referring to ovulation prediction tests)
Me: :sigh: Yes.
Victor: Oh. Sorry, I forgot.
Me: Harumph.
Victor: Well...do you want to do it?
Me: No.

It's Ten O'Clock Somewhere

Dedicated to those of us who think the real happy hour is when we get to go to bed.
(to the tune of "It's Five O'Clock Somewhere" performed by Alan Jackson and Jimmy Buffett)

The sun’s still up and that old clock is moving slow
And so am I
The evening passes like molasses in wintertime
Cause it’s July
I’m getting drowsier by the hour and older by the minute
Cooking dinner just pushed me over the limit
I need to do some chores
But I think I’ll call it a day

So turn the lights down nice and low
I’ve got to get up real early tomorrow
It’s only half past eight, but I don’t care
It’s ten o’clock somewhere

This siesta is gonna take ten full hours
A lovely night
My husband tells me his shirts need to be ironed
But that’s all right
I haven’t done any laundry in over a week
The dust situation here is getting pretty bleak
If the husband should freak
I’ll say to do it himself

So turn the lights down nice and low
I’ve got to get up real early tomorrow
It’s only half past eight, but I don’t care
It’s ten o’clock somewhere
I could have some caffeine, but see, that would mean
Not getting sleep until two
At a moment like this I can’t help but wonder
What would Garfield do?

So turn the lights down nice and low
I’ve got to get up real early tomorrow
It’s only half past eight, but I don’t care
It’s ten o’clock somewhere

Seven Words No One Ever Wants to Hear Their Mother Say

"I put some videos of myself online."

And if that's not bad enough..."wanna see?"

My mama, like me, loves to sing. But unlike me who limits singing to serenading my steering wheel, bar of soap, and husband (not at the same time), she has subscribed to a karaoke web site. The site has the music to lots of songs so the user can record themselves singing the words for all the Internet to hear. And now? She has a web cam. So she can exhibit both her vocal prowess as well as her mad dancing skills.

Or...something.

We're on the phone and she encourages me to watch her latest video in which she has discovered that she can TURN THE CAMERA to face somewhere other than the computer chair. (Isn't technology amazing?) So she doesn't have to limit her dancing to bobbing her head and swaying in her chair. No, she can stand up and have unrestricted movement. Except, the camera doesn't move with her. It's just not that smart. Or else it is that smart and it is trying to minimize the pain inflicted on the viewer.

Yes, the pain. From being doubled over in laughter for the duration of the song.

Picture a woman in her mid-fifties who is wearing a nightgown with un-"done" hair and no makeup. Also, no bra. Singing (but not really because she is no longer facing the computer screen that has the words) "Working my Way Back to You". (I'm not 100% sure this song was the correct one. I have mortification-induced amnesia). At the beginning of the video she isn't sure where the camera is pointing so the only thing you see is one (unbridled) boob (behind the nightgown, obviously). Eventually she backs up and so you can see my mama in all her glory. She starts looking bored with the simple swaying and so she tries out a number of in-place dance moves. Finally she decides to stick with what she knows and begins walking in place like she does during her aerobic walking video. There's some simple marching and some "single, single, double" patterns.

I, still on the phone with my mama during the viewings, try to give compliments to her dance moves and artistic license (including altering the video so you only see her outline in neon green as she sings "It's My Party") while wiping the tears from my face. Meanwhile Victor can't decide whether it is most prudent for him to leave the room, die, or stare in wonder at what he fears his wife may become. Behold, my husband, your future.

As we were getting ready for bed Victor says, "You know, everyone should be more like your mama."

How to Know You've Been Watching Too Much of "The West Wing"

I was preparing for a skit at a camp for kids in foster care I have worked at for several summers. In the skit with me were: a girl from college who is now a (semi-) professional actress, a guy from college who was very gay and also into theater, and...Josh Lyman (pictured above, otherwise known as Bradley Whitford).

The skit involved three sheep and their shepherd, I'm not too clear on the details. Josh Lyman was skeptical about the whole thing and kept insisting he be given the smallest role, in case the President called him and he couldn't be there. We were practicing and the gay guy kept telling Josh that he needed to amp up his "baaaas" and the actress girl airily pranced around the stage singing her "baaaas" in an operatic tone.

You know how some dreams are so realistic you wake up thinking they really happened? This one wasn't like that. Because if I were in a skit with Josh Lyman? No way I'd remember my lines.

Maybe He Shouldn't be Working in a Bookstore?

Overheard.

Kid: Do you have a book called "The New Kid"?

Bookstore Cashier: How do you spell that?

The Right to Privacy

I have been thinking a lot over the past few days about this blog and what I want it to be. If you've been reading for a while (or even just my last post) you know that I'm fairly open and candid. At the moment I feel perfectly free to write about my personal life because no one in my personal life (other than Victor) reads this blog. But I'm getting to the point where I might want to open up my blog to some close friends. I love to write here and part of me wants to bump up my view count share this part of my life with them.

But I worry. About how sharing may cause me to edit my content. About how someone I don't particularly want to read my blog might accidentally hear about it. And I feel responsible to protect the privacy and dignity of my family. Not just mine, or even Victor's, but that of other people who are close to me who might be just a little bit SHOCKED AND APPALLED that their beloved daughter/granddaughter/cousin/niece/fellow church member is writing about GIRLY BITS and UNDERWEAR and (the worst of all) SPERM-FRIENDLY LUBE on the INTERNET!

I've thought about having another blog, one where I write for my friends and family. But I think that would only serve to take away from my very limited time to write here. Also? It would suck. For example, my narrative of yesterday might go something like this:

"Yesterday we went to church. Andy preached on the sixth commandment. It was good. But I had a headache so I went out to sit in the concourse for the last five minutes. Then we went home and I took a long nap, a mistake since I had trouble sleeping later. I made shrimp tacos for dinner and we watched "Blood Diamond". It was sad."

Okay, I might be exaggerating. Or not, based on some blogs I've encountered. But even spiced up a little bit? BOOORRRIINNNG!

I am pretty impressed with people who write under their full names and can make it interesting without getting too personal. To me though, the personal is what inspires me to write at all. The stuff I don't share with everyone but I want to, need to, release.

For now I'm keeping this blog open only to those who serendipitously find it on the great Interwebs. I think after a while, perhaps once I'm pregnant or once I have children, I'll start to give some select people the address and see what happens. Will they receive it well? Or will I have to move to Lithuania, change my name, and dye my hair?

Product Review, in Which I Completely Eliminate Any Semblence of Discretion

Let's discuss this product.

Pre-seed is pitched as a lubricant for couples trying to conceive. Most products are known to be hostile to sperm. As seeing a dark test line on an ovulation predictor kit isn't enough to get most women in the mood, it's good to have some help that won't defeat the purpose of the rendez-vous. Pre-seed is not and actually mimics the kind of fluid that your body should be producing naturally

This stuff comes with an applicator and instructions to fill said applicator to the 3 (unit of measurement unknown). It looked like an awful lot to me so I only used half of what was recommended. And unless thirty minutes of frantic slip-and-sliding followed by much oozing and complete exhaustion is what tickles your fancy I would not recommend even half of the prescribed dosage.

So much for our clean sheets.

Round two I only applied to the 0.5 line, one third of my original try. With this amount there was not as much slip-and-sliding or oozing, but the completion was still more labor-intensive than when performed au natural.

The final round of pre-ovulation nookie I decided to skip the applicator altogether and just use a pea-sized amount with my finger. Much better, both Victor and I agreed. (wink wink).

My final decision on product endorsement will come in approximately 9 days. At which point I'll either pack our wine stock away or break into it and drink away my cramps.

Ignorance

When I was four my mama gave me this book:

Internet, there are pictures of HAIRY FAT NEKKID people in this book. Having SEX! This book gave all the facts of life in a "nonsense"-free way, as is advertised on the cover. Besides the basic facts of baby-making and delivering, I also learned that sex feels really good but you can only do it for a short period of time lest you become overwhelmed.

Or something.

My mama was very upfront about anatomy, puberty, and sex when my brother and I were kids. As a result, we knew a lot more about these things than our friends. I was always surprised to hear friends make comments that were obviously NOT CORRECT, (I was very keen on the CORRECT as a child) whether it be a nickname for their girly bits or a vague reference to storks.

Now that I spend time on a babies-related discussion board I am still shocked by some adult women's complete lack of knowledge about the reproductive process. Questions like:
Can I take birth control so that I don't get pregnant even though I already am pregnant?
Can you be pregnant and still get a period?
I had sex yesterday and today my boobs hurt: could I be pregnant?

I'll confess that part of the reason I love this discussion board so much is because of the crazy questions we get sometimes. And the carnage that always follows. But it's still shocking to me that such ignorance can be perpetuated.

And so the other day when I was telling my mama about an especially ridiculous question on the board.
Me: I can't believe how little some people know!
Mama: Well, until [her best friend] had a baby (when my mama was 21) I thought that babies came out of your butt instead of the other side.
Me: (stunned silence)

Thank goodness for sex ed. Otherwise I'd have to question everything my mama taught me.

Not California Dreamin'

Remember this news? Victor found out yesterday he didn't get the job. I have to admit, I'm a little relieved. While I would have moved to LA and been happy that Victor was doing something he found interesting, I would have been really sad to move all the way across the country from my family. Three hundred miles is far enough.

A few other job opportunities are in the works. On the East Coast! Hopefully something will come through quickly.