What Would You Do if I Sang Out of Tune?

So the other day, smack-dab in the middle of the working week, was my birthday.  Not only was it mid-week, but it was also my longest working day because I have to stay late for conference calls in the Singapore time zone.  When I got off of work, I had NO desire to celebrate my birthday the way "normal" people do.  I wanted to do what I wanted to do and that turned out to be eating McDonald's instead of a fancy dinner while watching the Twilight movies.  Hubby took it upon himself to entertain Diego while I got my fries and Edward Cullen fix.

They disappeared for awhile, and when they came back they greeted me with a bouquet of sunflowers (cuz everybody knows that sunflowers are the most awesome flower) and a mini carrot cake with a candle.  As I laid in the bed, my husband, 16 y/o stepson, and Diego came in singing [well... Diego wasn't singing.  We all know he still refuses speak] the Happy Birthday song.  They are NOT singers, but they sang it anyway.

They stood side by side, towering above me like soldiers holding a cake while they sang.  It was horribly out of tune, off key, it seemed forced so they sang really slow but with a smirk on their faces, they were fumbling over and butchering a few words with their latin accents, and halfway through it my 16 y/o stepson would heave and laugh out of embarrassment I think.

It was so awkward, and seemed to last forever.  I laughed so uninhibitedly at the spectacle I was witnessing.  My mood was highly contagious for Diego as he looked up and his father and brother and began laughing, pointing, and screaming at them during the "serenade", which made me laugh even more.  I wish I had recorded on my camera for you to understand how badly the song was butchered.

It was exactly like the video below.  EXACTLY.  Well, except they're not Mexican, nor mice, nor was this the right song, but I think you know what I mean.  But it was the highlight of my birthday...

The Walls Are Closing in on Me!

Another week has gone by and I'm happy to report on the progress of our remodel project.  We have a closed in roof and walls!  Still nothing close to a kitchen, but hubby did hook our old gas range back in, and I have a whole spigot and a huge pot on the floor as my sink.  I know!  Luxurious, isn't it?

Although I still haven't reached my limit in terms of eating microwaved, mini White Castle cheese burgers, I've been depending a lot on my mother for "real" food.  I buy the ingredients, she cooks them when she gets home from work, and by the time I get there after work I'm picking up my "3Ds":  Dinner, Diego, and Dog.  You're darn tootin' that Qori does not stay in the backyard during this remodel.  He's much too civilized a dog for that, so I bring him to my mother's house every day too.

Hubby also moved some stuff around in our designated living space to make things a little more accommodating.  He took down the massive crib taking up space in the middle of our living room and re-installed our tv so that we can find some sanity and not kill each other during this project.   I don't think we'll need the crib for awhile since Diego is over his crib stage and he's been sleeping with us in our bed during the remodel.  Also, this second time around when the baby is born, I'm thinking of going with a bassinet for the first few months so we won't be needing that crib for awhile.  As the living space started to clear, Diego finally had access to his billions of toys again.  He was "Super" happy!

Pardon the silly pun.  I couldn't resist.

Oh [Tom] Boy! Pet for a Day!

While I was at my baby shower this weekend, I mentioned in conversation that I was a tomboy as a child.  My sister immediately scoffed at my proclamation.  I didn't understand.  I climbed trees, swore off the color pink, caught frogs with my bare hands, and remember fighting the tree in my backyard with my vacuum cleaner attachment sword.

Did I need to pick my boogers, burp, and eat dirt in order to qualify as a tomboy?  I'm not sure.

Anywhoo, I still believe that I WAS a tomboy and that deep down inside believe I will be able to channel that inner, suppressed tomboy as my two boys grow up and do more and more "boy" things.  I had an opportunity to put that to the test on the very next day as Diego and I were playing in our yard.  I could not put my finger on it, but I felt like someone had been staring at me.

After awhile, I spied a tiny little tree frog nestled on top of my hubby's big construction tool chest.   He was looking up at me.

'What great fun!  Diego can play with a new pet.  I have to catch it!' I immediately thought to myself.

Since we moved to the house and began construction, there have been a plethora of animals visiting our yard, some not-so welcome:  mice, snakes, goats (OK the goats were on the other side of our fence but still) etc.  I did not expect to see a tree frog in our area.  I channeled my inner tomboy for a few moments, ready to catch the frog with my bare hands an empty Activia Yogurt container on the ground.  Just as I recalled, the tree frog was super easy to catch and I brought Eugene Jr. (In memory of my childhood tree frog, Eugene) to the construction zone where Diego could get a better look at him.

 
As suspected, Diego was fascinated and delighted by the frog.  He was also surprisingly cautious and gentle with it.  He never actually handled it, but he did touch it softly for a split second.  But after about 10 minutes, he got bored, waved goodbye to the frog, and ran off in the other direction.  I returned Eugene Jr. to the wild a tree stump and watched him hop away.  I give myself tomboy points for this episode, and not actually needing to touch the frog. Though I would have if needed.  Frogs don't bite.
 

But then later that night, hubby and Diego got into a farting contest.  Diego is actually quite good if you ask me.  But I still decided to sit this one out.  My inner tomboy was not THAT crude; I'd rather eat dirt.

Project Four Zero: 27 Weeks! Holy Henna!

It was a little early but my over-zealous, party-planning sister hosted my Escape from India baby shower this past Saturday (She has her reasons for making it early, including birthdays and holidays, and my tendency to give birth kind of early).  I'm am not Indian although I probably wouldn't even believe my own statement after looking at some of the shower pictures!

Months ago, I specifically told my sister that I did not want a big extravaganza this time around since the first shower was big and now I'm having another boy.  But I did tell her that I wanted to have a henna design done on my belly, hence the Indian theme.

The party was my kind of perfect:  insert a semi-ghetto henna artist that my sister found on Craigslist who got into a fight over the phone with her flaky babysitter whilst henna-ing my sister (who was trapped in a state of awkwardness), my grandmother refusing to have henna done unless it was on her "whoo-haaa", and my mother prancing around like a toddler proclaiming her overwhelming desire to have a sea-horse (of all things) as her henna design; it was just another one of our usual parties.  The Indian food was delicious (and spicy) too, and it was complemented with a dessert of mini-Twix bars, mini ice cream cones, and apple pie: not a gestational diabetes-friendly dessert.  But who cares, right?  I'm cured!

CRAVINGS

I couldn't say no to the Twix bars.  I think I ate about 4 or 5 minis.

SYMPTOMS

A sharp, familiar, and constant pain on my right rib cage.  I imagine that both Diego and his new little brother on the way like to jam their little feets on the same spot of my rib cage and keep it there..................for hours.  That's what it feels like at least.  Speaking of feets, I added a special little side detail on my henna belly.  So cute!

Not MY belly.  LOL!  I wish!

  

Fortunate

Have you ever watched the episode of the Twilight Zone where Chinese fortune cookie fortunes came true for a man at a restaurant?  I watched it years ago as a child with my mother.  She would love to scare herself silly with the Twilight Zone, and I would be right by her side joining her in the terror.

Over the weekend, we decided to try a new Chinese restaurant that a friend of my husband had recommended.  Get a load of our fortunes!  I found them very eerie.

The food at the restaurant was pretty good, but I don't know how often we'll go back there.  It was a little out of our way to get there, and more importantly the guy dies at the end of the Twilight Zone episode...  his fortune says so.

1. Well, I HAVE been over-decorating our house with rustic details in my head and on Pinterest.  2. Hubby is a hard worker; sometimes it's 90% of what he does.  And he's been working even harder on our house remodel lately.  3.  DUH!  I hope so, he's only 19 months right now.  Notice the slightly chewed fortune it, was still in the cookie at the time, haha!

Project Four-Zero: 26 Weeks!

Inspired by a photo found on Pinterest

Hallelujiah!  I'm cured!

Wait - I'm cured????

Really????

Now what??

This pretty much expresses my train of thought this week as my prenatal doctor told me to stop the gestational diabetes program after viewing my outstanding blood results from last week.  So I'm cured?  I don't know...  I didn't think it was even a possibility.

So I plan to at least go to my last gestational diabetes appointment, and then call this diabetes thing donezo.  This ordeal has definitely been an eye-opening experience.  I've learned a lot about food and plan to continue to diet (well maybe like 80% of the time to be quite honest) even after the pregnancy is over.  I've also grown and changed a lot due to the GD.  I can't believe that I've gotten used to pricking myself, and I've actually caught myself WANTING to prick just out of curiosity.  I know right?  What have you done with Shirley?!  Bring her back!

As the belly grows this week, so do the long nights of tossing and turning.  And you can almost FORGET about me picking anything up off the floor.  I just .... can't..... do.... it. 

SYMPTOMS:

Short of breath after minor activities

CRAVINGS:

Bananas anyone?

I've also caught myself eating just to eat.  Bag of Ranch Doritos anyone?  I need to stop that.

Hahaha!  Almost as good as the viral one of the squirrel on the internet.  If only Qori was looking at the camera!

This is the Place for Me! Week 6

Look to the skies this week!  Our roof is starting to take shape and I learned that I get to keep my beloved wood-beamed ceilings after all!  Score for Shirley!

Give a little, get a little?

This is the second week of living without a kitchen, but while sacrificing every-day commodities I still feel like I had a major unexpected win this week.  I fought hard initially to be able to keep the wood beamed ceilings that make up the back portion of the house because I'm in love with the idea of a rustic-style house.  Sadly since this is a remodel project "on a dime" I had to let that dream go from the beginning.  The original decision was made to cover up the existing beamed ceilings.  Boo!

But due to an architectural finding this week, my luck has changed.  With my quick thinking and strong sucking up negotiating skills, I sold my hubby (using a crafty idea) on how we could keep the original beams exposed, save some dough, AND address the architectural issue they found all at the same time.  I know, I know, I'm awesome...

So now that the beams are back in, you better believe I've been on Pinterest even more pinning away at rustic-style decor for my little humble house with the wood-beamed ceilings. 

It's fun decorating the house in my mind, but not so fun actually living in the house.  Check out how we've been dealing with actually living in it below:

Newsprint Nails!

I found this idea on Pinterest (follow me here) and I just HAD to do it!  First off - it required gray nailpolish and if you know me, I have a slight obsession with gray hues.  I didn't have a gray that was light enough for this craft so I went online shopping for a lighter gray. 

An ENTIRE OPI 12 set collection and $66 dollars later, I chose my gray:  "French Quarter for Your Thoughts".  OK so I went a little overboard in terms of budget for this simple craft, but in my defense it's my birthday month and I deserve a little something extra for being an AWESOME Libra. And nail polish just does it for me.

I still think the gray is a bit too dark, but I don't like to go too light on my nails.  I know... I'm weird.

Cut out newspaper clippings for 10 nails (unless you're missing or have an extra finger - hehehe).  LESSON LEARNED:  Don't waste your time choosing the right text like I did.  It's not going to be that noticeable.

Get your Alchy-hol and nail polish ready!  LESSON LEARNED:  If you've just painted your nails and they're dry, wait just a bit longer as they may not be completely dry and the Alchy-hol will soften it more and mess up the text transfer. 

Dip your finger into the Alchy-hol (Yes, I used a shot glass, it is alchy-hol after all, and the cup is cute) for 5 seconds.  Immediately afterward press the newsprint (text side down) onto your nail.  Hold for about 15-20 and slowly peel off.  After drying, apply top coat and voila! Newsprint nails.

If you have a Pinterest craft that you'd like to share, then linkup here.  Happy Pinning!

Four-Zero Project: 25 Weeks!

"Excuse me Mrs., but how far along are you?"

I've been in fashion-denial about my pregnancy up to this point.  It took reaching Week 25 in my 2nd pregnancy to where people are now comfortable asking or even noticing that I am pregnant (3 times this week, to be exact).  I have nothing against being or looking pregnant.  For me it was more like a psychotic power trip or experiment to see how far I could go with my "secret".  Gauging from the fact that the beginning of my 3rd trimester is only weeks away, I'd say it was a success!

And now the psychotic game must end and my final score is 25.  Not bad.  It's time to embrace the belly with more cute, belly-hugging ensembles at work.  And time for me to get used to saying, "Yes... yes, I am!"

SYMPTOMS

Ever-prevalent belly:  Its presence is evident in everything I do.  Putting on my boots, tossing and turning in bed, or even just sitting down.  I can't just pretend it's not physically there.  It won't let me forget.

CRAVINGS

Not very many this week.  Those mini White Castle cheese burgers from a few posts ago are really satisfying me during snack time.  :)

Special request to have some teal in this week's photo.  My sister is diligently working on baby shower details.

Surprise Fruit Basket

Since our house is in shambles under construction, we've been spending a lot of time at Abuelita's [Grandma's] over the weekend even when Abuelita and Abuelito are not there.  This weekend, Diego taught Abuelita why we never leave a basket of fruit out in the open air...  She noticed her "gift" basket as soon as she walked through the door.  Subtle Diego.... really subtle.

Why I Won't Name My Son "Marlon"

Once upon a time over 10 years ago, there was a group of high-school students sitting in their class working on a group activity.  Since they were over-achievers, they had finished the assignment and began to chat and the topic fell on future plans.  Basically, the - "what do you want to be when you grow up" topic. 

Marlon, the only guy at the table, whose sexual preference was questionable but never discriminated, quickly said, "I'm going to be an obstetrician."  All the other girls were surprised and intrigued that a guy would want to be an obstetrician.  He explained that he loved babies and wanted take part in the joy of birth.  With that statement, he won over the adoration of the girls at the table.

But, after saying such a commendable comment, he proceeded to wipe away all his good deeds with the following exercise:  He was somehow led to believe that his opinion on motherhood suddenly mattered and began to critique each woman on whether or not she would be a "good" mom.  He singled out the rocker girl with blue highlights in her hair.  She had a steady rocker boyfriend that no one denied because she had no problem with PDA as they basically ate each other for lunch every day in the courtyard on their favorite bench.  Slut... and yet no one bared her any malice because she was actually very nice.

"Suzy" Marlon said.  "I think you would be a great mom."

'Yeah, sure,' Shirley - the other, much more reserved girl at the table who hadn't broken out of her very hard shell yet, thought. 'That's because she'll probably be pregnant in a year.'

Then Marlon turned to Shirley and proceeded to single her out.  "Shirley - I don't think you would be a good mom.........."

And that was it.  No reason provided.  It was just his pure gut talking, and he moved on to the next victim girl.  Shirley was too deep in thought to listen if anyone else got a bad rating according to this non-certified, almost charlatan source.  She was mad; she was fuming.  Up to this point, Marlon was too nice to hate.  He was like a cuddly panda bear that everyone wanted to hug, but suddenly the panda had turned into a grizzly in disguise.

Shirley never said anything in response because she was too reserved for that, but deep inside she still felt good for three reasons:

1. Knowing that she WAS going to be a great mom one day, 
2. Knowing she'd give Marlon a bad review online as an obstetrician if she ever happened upon him again. 
3. Knowing she wasn't a slut and that sluttiness was NOT a prerequisite to being a good mom.

*********************************************************************************

And that's why no matter what my husband says right now, I am NOT naming my son "Marlon".  There's no way I'm signing those papers.  Find a new name.   And screw you, Marlon.  I'm entirely out of my shell now and we can have a nice chat if you'd like.  Oh - and bring Suzy and her 10 children along.

This would've been so much easier if I was having my fabled girl, Mia.  Hmmmm, how about Mio for a boy name?  LOL.  Nah...

This is the Place for Me! (Week 5)

This was a TOUGH week! I get evicted from my bedroom and lose my kitchen all in the same week! I'm trying to maintain my sanity and glucose levels, but "under construction" living makes it a little hard.

Our Golden mourns the loss of our bedroom, which is now on course to becoming part of the living/dining room.  Our ugly, tiny kitchen starts its makeover as well!  The house now feels even more snug than ever! (with 1/2 of it being gone/unusable and all!)

Diego decides to climb every ladder on the construction site.  He thinks the construction site is a Hop 'N Play!  I need to buy him those child hard hats I've seen at The Home Depot.

An example of what I brought for "lunch" today, sans kitchen.  Lord help my glucose levels!

Wordless Wednesday (9/07/2011)

Four-Zero Project: 24 Weeks!

This weeks' photo session was inspired by a photo I found on Pinterest.  Did I mention how easily addicting that website can be?  What do you think of how the photo came out?  It was hard for me to make my belly stand out in the shot.  Either this girl is well into her 3rd trimester or my body type isn't so good for this angle of a shot.  Nonetheless, I would like to give credit to Pinterest (& Kipper Photography in the photo below) right now for giving me so many ideas for Project Four-Zero shots.  Without it, I would never have these memories of my potentially last pregnancy.  I already have a few more shots lined up inspired by Pinterest!  I've been "Pinspired!"

I had great blood work results this week.  My results went down from 5.9 (the original death blow score that landed me in gestational diabetes Hell) to 5.2 (well below the cutoff of 5.6)!  I was very happy about this news.  My diet is working. 

As I get deeper into the pregnancy, I also get deeper into our house construction.  As of right now, I have no kitchen or living room.  Life is inconvenient, and I have pregnancy hormones that I try to control every now and again before ripping my husband's head off.  He loves me, understands me, and takes my crap.  But most of all, he's trying his best to get us through this construction swiftly and sanely.

Just the other day he took me grocery shopping for "easy" food since I won't be able to cook for a week or two.  It was what I considered a once in a lifetime opportunity as we don't typically eat pre-prepared meals.  I went a little insane and bought microwaveable hot pockets, lasagna, alfredo pasta, white castle burgers, waffles for the toaster, sandwich fixin's etc.  Of course we bought all this under the premise that there is a 16 year old boy in our house who needs to eat too.  But who am I kidding?  This week is going to be a step backwards in terms of gestational diabetes unless I can control myself around our newly-stocked fridge.  I'll probably have to depend on my mother for some "real" food.

SYMPTOMS:

Uncomfortable sleeping (lots of tossing and turning)

CRAVINGS

Did you not see all the crap we bought at the grocery store???