Category Archives: Pregnancy

Pregnancy brain for dummies

Posted on December 28, 2013 | 5 comments

Want to know the seven most terrifying words in the English language?

“It doesn’t matter, you won’t remember this anyway.”

Wait…six…seven…eight…dammit…

Want to know the eight most terrifying…OK, well, whatever…you get the point.

Yes, dear reader, yours truly is currently living through her own version of the movie “Memento.”

Memento

(If you haven’t seen the movie, it’s basically about a guy who, due to a brain injury, cannot create new memories, meaning he forgets all his short-term memories within a few minutes. So he’s always leaving notes and photos everywhere to remind him of important information. Or, as every male college student I met in 2001 referred to it, “The greatest movie of all time! Not even kidding, dude! Wanna get stoned and discuss it for the next five hours!?!”)

Ever since I got knocked up, my brain has become strictly for show. Now, granted, I was warned about this phenomenon, which has been dubbed the cutesy name of “pregnancy brain” (probably by someone who thinks pink is an acceptable color), but none of those warnings prepared me for this.

It started out slow. Little things like washing my hair with conditioner first, followed by shampoo. Watching a TV episode with no clue that I had already watched it the night before until someone pointed it out. Forgetting the names of common every day objects and frequently saying things like “You know, the thing with the thing. It was beside the other thing.”

Minor inconveniences, yes. But nothing I couldn’t handle.

However, it wasn’t until the following conversation with my husband a few nights ago that I realized the extent of the issue:

Ryan: “Blah, blah, blah…” (one of the blahs triggering some nagging inkling that I had forgotten something important).

Me: “Wait. Aren’t I mad at you about something?”

Ryan: “No.”

Me: “Yeah…I’m pretty sure I am. Why am I mad at you?”

Ryan: “If you don’t remember, there is no way in hell I’m telling you.”

Me: “Dammit! Why am I mad at you? You said something. About…DAMMIT! I can’t seem to remember!”

Ryan: “Hahahahahahaha…”

Me: “…”

Ryan: “Babe?”

Me: “…”

Ryan: “Sweetie…?”

Me: “I’m not talking to you. I’m mad at you for not telling me why I’m mad at you. And I’m gonna stay mad at you until you tell me why I was mad at you.”

Ryan: “I’m not even sure how to respond to that.”

Me: “…”

Ryan: “Fine. You really want to know why you were mad?”

Me: “…”

Ryan: “(Sigh)…You were mad because I pointed out that none of the elves seemed upset when Santa died in “The Santa Clause.” They didn’t even mourn or have a funeral or ask how he died, they just immediately accepted Tim Allen as their new boss. And you said I forever ruined the movie for you.”

Me: “Oh yeah. Thanks a lot, jerk. Way to ruin a modern classic…seriously though, that’s messed up that not even one of them cried.”

Ryan: “Right?”

Me: “Well, I guess I’m not mad anymore.”

Ryan: “It doesn’t matter. You won’t remember any of this anyway.”

Me: “DAMMIT!”

But you know what? It’s all gonna be OK. In fact, I’m going to have the last laugh. Because, as I recently discovered, those filmmakers were on to something. Which is why our house is now littered with scraps of paper like the following:

Mad note 1

Mad note 2

So be forewarned, babe. I’ll never again forget why I’m mad at you. Well, that is, as long as I can find a pen quickly enough to write it down before I forget. Speaking of which, where did that pen go? Dammit! It was right here. I swear!

DAMMIT IT ALL TO HELL!

What was I writing about again?

5 Comments

Posted in Humor, Pregnancy

Tagged , , , , , , ,

Classholes

Posted on December 20, 2013 | Leave a comment

They say knowledge is power. And for the most part, I agree with that statement. That is, unless the knowledge has to do with squeezing something the size of a watermelon through something the size of a lemon.

In that case, knowledge is a horrific, crippling slap in the face.

Yes, it’s been almost two weeks since my husband and I took that 8-hour birthing class. A seemingly innocent educational experience that was designed to inform but instead violently assaulted both our eyes and ears.

We saw things, man. Things no human should see. Things that, although we were informed they were perfectly “natural,” were most definitely not natural.

birthing class 1 birthing class 2 birthing class 3 birthing class 4 birthing class 5 birthing class 6

We’re still recovering.

My only hope for a normal life at this point is that the sleep deprivation from labor, delivery and taking care of a newborn is severe enough to kill off all the brain cells that retain these particular memories.

Fingers crossed.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go resume rocking in the fetal position in my darkened bedroom while sobbing uncontrollably.

Leave a comment

Posted in Humor, Pregnancy

Tagged , , , , , , , ,

Nesting is for the birds (see what I did there?)

Posted on December 13, 2013 | 3 comments

I’ll be honest. I didn’t think it was true. I thought it was just another one of those pregnancy myths, like you only gain weight in your stomach (you don’t). Or that your husband will actually run out at 3 a.m. to get you a taco (he won’t). Or that pregnancy is in any way enjoyable (it’s not…although it might be if “someone” would get me tacos in the middle of the night…HINT, HINT, Ryan).

But then a few weeks ago I innocently went to pick out a new book to read and, well, this happened:

Nesting 1 Nesting 2 Nesting 3 Nesting 4

Five manic hours later, every single book I own, which is not an insignificant number, had been taken down, cleaned, mentally recategorized and put back on the shelves using a system that made absolutely no more sense than the original system. Some books were organized via genre, some by how much I thought the authors would get along (Mark Twain and Dave Barry would totally have started a bromance) and some by how smart I thought they made me look.

Needless to say, it was a system that would have made any librarian’s head spin around, Exorcist-style, and then explode.

But despite the fact that it didn’t make any sense and that it didn’t actually need to be done, I couldn’t help myself. I HAD to do it. It was a compulsion. A compulsion no less powerful than what I imagine compels my dog to roll around in dead things on days when I am running late for something.

Yes, I had apparently unwittingly begun the phase of pregnancy known as “nesting.” Generally, nesting is when a pregnant mother feels the overwhelming desire to deep clean her home and prepare said home for the imminent arrival of her baby. As I discovered, pretty much all expectant mommas go through this, from animals tearing up newspapers and birds building actual nests, to human women who scrub their entire house with a toothbrush and then organize their spice rack alphabetically.

But in my case, my maternal instincts told me I couldn’t have a baby in a house where the books were shelved all willy-nilly. Never mind that there is food in my fridge that expired in 1997 and the bathroom tub hasn’t been scrubbed since I could wear pants with buttons. Oh no. No, it was far more important that my home be a home where Dorothy Parker took her rightful place beside Robert Benchley.

Luckily not all is lost for this kid. Because while his mother is currently about as useful as a fish with a bicycle, he has a father whose instincts are actually geared toward keeping his tiny butt alive.

For example, that following weekend my husband spent hour upon hour putting together the crib, the changing table and rocking chair, organizing all the tiny, tiny clothes by size and cleaning out our attic of all the useless crap that not only did we not need, but no one would ever need in their lifetime, to make rooom for all the new baby crap we would actually need. I watched him, mesmerized, as he did thing after thing that would, you know, actually be helpful once this little bladder-kicker was out in the world.

He was doing the male version of nesting. Or, as I like to call it, “mesting.”

Not that I was completely useless during this time, mind you. I helpfully did things like hold up random tools while saying “this one? this one? this one?” when he asked for a Phillips head screwdriver. And I put together a mobile for the crib all by myself. Granted, it doesn’t work now, but that could be for any number of reasons.

It just goes to show you, everyone approaches parenthood differently. But believe you me, someday that kid will be OVER THE MOON about the fact that all the Stephen King books are not only together on the shelf, but stacked chronologically.

3 Comments

Posted in Books, Family, Humor, Pregnancy

Tagged , , , , , , ,

Who says cankles aren’t sexy?

Posted on November 22, 2013 | 1 comment

Here’s a fun trivia game. Wanna guess how many times I’ve gotten up to pee while typing this sentence?

Nine.

OK, OK, maybe I’m exaggerating a little. But only a little. Luckily I’m a pretty fast typist or it could have been true. Seriously, as if my constant snarting wasn’t bad enough, I now have to worry about wetting myself any time I do something more taxing than breathing (and sometimes even then it’s touch and go for a bit).

Snarting

Yes, this week I officially crossed into “Nothing About You Is Sexy Anymore” territory. Also known as…(cue dramatic music)…The Third Trimester. And that’s not me being self-deprecating. That’s just being honest. I imagine from an evolutionary standpoint, the grossness of pregnant women at this stage is to keep potential predators away since said woman wouldn’t have been able to waddle up a tree to safety very quickly.

Snarting2

For example, my formerly cute little basketball belly is now an unwieldy giant sphere-like object that is constantly covered in food or dust or whatever else I happened to unknowingly rub it up against (stunned strangers in restaurants included). I now breathe like an old man who has smoked three packs a day for 67 years just from the effort of getting up off the couch (old man grunt included). As the temperatures get colder with each passing day, I get hotter, making for a nice permanent state of being in which I am always covered in sweat (Whoa! Calm down, fellas. I’m already taken).

And, of course, there is the drooling, the cankles, the giant Hobbit feet, the sausage fingers, the snoring and the eating like a linebacker. Lucky guy, that husband of mine.

Lucky, lucky guy.

(My boobs, however, still look phenomenal, in case you were wondering. They’re just…just still so awesome, you guys. Like those big water balloons I used to fill with pudding and stuff in my bra when I was a kid, only REAL).

All these changes got me to thinking though. Perhaps all of the above is why I have yet to experience one of the most common annoyances of pregnancy. As embarrassed as I am to admit it this late in the game, I have to confess that I have yet to have a random person come up and touch my pregnant belly.

No big deal, right? Except I kind of feel like it is. Because from the second I peed on that stick, all any woman wanted to talk about was how infuriating it was when people came up to touch their belly. I mean, these ladies made it sound like their swollen stomach was the Justin Bieber of baby bumps, with giant crowds of people swarming around her, unable to resist touching that sacred bubble of baby (and pent up farts). So naturally, as soon as I started showing, I envisioned this every time I walked out the door:

Snarting3

Only no one has touched it yet. On the subway, they’ll offer me their seat, but keep their hands politely to themselves. In crowded stores, they’ll say “no problem” when I apologize for bumping into them with my bump, but then throw their hands up to let me pass unmolested. While walking down the street, they’ll treat me just like everyone else walking the street.

So, I’m starting to take it personal.

I mean, what? My belly isn’t good enough for you to touch? My baby isn’t cute enough in utero to warrant even a few seconds of unsolicited awkward touching? Is it because I’m so sweaty? Because let me tell you, A LOT of pregnant women are sweaty. And they still get accosted on the street.

Snarting4

Come on, people. I’m a humorist. I make my living by finding humor in the small things of life and writing about them. So if you don’ t touch my belly inappropriately, I have nothing to write about.

And me and my baby will starve.

So be a buddy, huh? Rub my belly without asking and while preferably saying something creepy, like “he’s got such a strong life force!”

I promise I probably won’t even punch you (unless I thought it would make for a funnier post).

1 Comment

Posted in Humor, Pregnancy

Tagged , , , , , , ,

Hoarders on a Road Trip

Posted on November 15, 2013 | Leave a comment

Indulge me for a second, if you will. I want you to close your eyes and picture the following:

You’re driving down the Interstate, minding your own business. Perhaps you’re heading home after a long day of work or maybe you’re picking your kid up from soccer practice. Or it could even be that you’re on your way to dinner reservations with your in-laws, which you’re dreading because Phil always has too much to drink and then plays his favorite game of “Insult His Daughter’s Husband Until It’s Time for Dessert,” after which you will go home and get in a huge fight with your wife because she never stands up for you, oh no, she could never stand up to her ultra-macho, conservative father. No one stands up to Phil. Phil fought in the war, for crying out loud. And what have you done with your life, Shirley? He calls you Shirley. Just another way for him to emasculate you. Ugh. Phil. You hate Phil. So much.

Or whatever. I don’t know. I don’t know your life.

But the point is, you’re driving down the Interstate.

When all of a sudden you pass a tin can painted red that is disguised as a car (a Hyundai Accent, to be exact). Upon closer inspection of this “car,” you see the following:

Road trip 1

And for a second, all your troubles are forgotten since you can’t help but ask yourself “What the hell is going on in there?”

Well, let me tell you what the hell is going on in there. This past weekend, a man, a 7-months-pregnant woman and a neurotic dog with abandonment issues all thought it would be a great idea to take a 14-hour road trip to Ohio.

And it technically was a great idea.

In theory.

Where things went horribly, horribly wrong was on the way back.

See, the reason for the trip was so that the couple could have a baby shower with the majority of their family and friends. And granted, I’ve written in the past about how much I hate baby showers but let me tell you, it’s a whole new world when it’s being thrown in your honor. Turns out it’s just like having a birthday party, the only difference being that getting drunk, making out with someone and then crying on the bathroom floor about how old you are is generally frowned upon at the baby shower.

Now, they say it takes a village to raise a children. I don’t know if that’s true but I do know that it takes a village to afford one. And our village was EXTREMELY generous (big shout-out due here to all the future grandparents, great aunts and my 52 female cousins). This kid will truly never want for anything for at least the first year of his life (wanting a mom that doesn’t sing “Close To You” off-key before he goes to bed every night notwithstanding).

And we couldn’t be more grateful to everyone who came. However, it left us with the following dilemma:

Road trip 4

Luckily, all those years of my husband blowing off doing anything productive and eschewing socialization with actual humans to play Tetris instead paid off. He managed to get it ALL in there. Well, almost all. At one point, there was a fear of damaging the structural integrity of the car so he had to stop.

However, this meant we had to drive over 800 miles with a dog sharing the passenger seat, limited visibility out of all windows and boxes hitting the back of our heads even though the seats were pushed up as far as they could go (which was SUPER fun for the 6’2″ daddy to be).

And even that wouldn’t have been that bad if it weren’t for the fact that I am not the world’s greatest driver (for documented proof, click here or here or here) and that it had snowed the night before (Weather: If you don’t like it, you are probably in Ohio). For example, here is a fairly accurate representation of the construction we encountered (Construction: If you are dealing with it, you are probably in Ohio) within 30 minutes of leaving:

Road trip 2

No big deal, right? All I had to do was follow the signs for “Thru Traffic” since we were going, duh, “thru” the area and weren’t getting off of an exit for the next 200 miles.

But at 5 a.m. in the dark on snowy and icy roads with no caffeine in my system, this is what I saw:

Road trip 3

So I panicked and we spent the next 30 minutes trying to find the Interstate again from back country roads that had their very own banjo soundtrack.

Somehow we did it though. We made it back to Boston in one piece. Even the baby, who was squished for no less than 400 miles by a highly excitable dog. And on the plus side, I now have a new sympathy for hoarders.

I’m just dreading finding all those dead cats once I finally build up the stamina to put together the nursery.

Leave a comment

Posted in Family, Humor, Pregnancy

Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

Weight just a minute, doc

Posted on November 7, 2013 | 1 comment

There are two ways of dealing with pregnancy.

1. Spending nine months treating your body as a sacred vessel and as such only filling it with healthy things, like kale and whatever the hell quinoa is.

Or…

2. Spending nine months daydreaming of the time when you were free to slowly destroy your body with ingredients that technically should never be ingested by a living thing. And occasionally choking down a stupid carrot.

weight2

I, believe it or not, am of the latter persuasion.

(Also, this just in, the Pope is indeed Catholic).

Yes, as it turns out, if you were not a particularly healthy person prior to pregnancy, the adjustment to the pregnancy lifestyle can be quite a shock. For instance, here was my food pyramid for most of my adult life:

weight3

And here is my food pyramid now:

weight4

As you can see, I’m still not as healthy as I could be. But it is a vast improvement. And I was actually quite proud of myself for giving up the majority of my vices (granted I still drink a little bit of coffee every morning but that’s more to protect the lives of everyone outside my uterus). Yep, I was feeling pretty good about how my pregnancy was going…

…that is, until my doctor called me fat.

OK, OK, let me clarify since my husband is reading this over my shoulder and keeps insisting that’s not what “technically” happened. “Technically” she said that…I will too use air quotes in a sarcastic manner, babe…because regardless of what she actually said it was inferred that I was getting fat…oh it was too…well, it’s my column so I’ll tell the story the way I want to…well, stop reading over my shoulder then…yes, I really am typing out my half of this argument…hell yes I’m going to leave this in the final draft…well, stop trying to edit my version of events…truth, schmuth, what I’m doing is reading between the lines, which is at the very heart of journalism…no, you’re the boogerface…I will most certainly not tell them you didn’t actually call me boogerface. I can make you say anything I want…BABE! I can’t believe you just called me ugly! How can you be so cruel!?!  I’m pregnant with your child, for crying out loud!…

Yep, that did it. He’s gone.

Anyhoo, as I was saying, at my fifth month checkup, my doctor “technically” said that since they recommend women only gain 20 to 30 pounds during pregnancy, I appeared to be “on track” to “gain more than the recommended amount” by the time I “squirted this kid out my lady parts.”*

*She may have said that last part using more sophisticated medical terms, but remember people, it’s all about reading between the lines here.

Translation: She thinks I’m getting too fat.

Which hey, I know she’s just doing her job and it’s much healthier for both mom and baby if the pregnancy weight gain is kept under control. But I couldn’t help but feeling like I should get a free pass on this one. I mean, for starters, I wasn’t overweight before I got pregnant. But more importantly, those cigarettes and that evening bottle glass of wine and the daily coffee intake of 40,000 mg of caffeine had to be replaced with something.

And all I had left was food.

And yeah, sure, “technically” that food didn’t have to include quite so many cheeseburgers but while everyone seems more than happy to talk about what pregnant women should or shouldn’t do, no one seems to talk about pregnancy being an extremely stressful time. Especially if you’re a first-timer.

You are now intensely aware that everything you do, every single day, has a potential impact on a tiny little human. If you don’t exercise enough, it could affect the baby. But don’t make yourself too tired, or it could affect the baby. If you eat too much, or eat too little, it could affect the baby. If something goes wrong with your teeth, it could affect your baby. If you get too hot, it could affect the baby. You need to eat fish so the baby’s brain doesn’t grow in crooked or whatever. But not too much fish and not certain kinds of fish or the mercury will make an arm grow out your baby’s forehead. Don’t be around too much secondhand smoke or too much pollution. Stay away from microwaves. Diet drinks will, in fact, affect your baby. As will fruit you didn’t clean well enough. And whatever you do, DO NOT STRESS OUT ABOUT ALL THIS BECAUSE IT COULD AFFECT THE BABY.

So when you have to give up all your former stress coping mechanisms, sometimes a girl just needs a steak the size of small-to-medium country to cope.

A few extra pounds be damned.

1 Comment

Posted in Health, Humor, Pregnancy

Tagged , , , , , , ,

How to register for baby gifts

Posted on October 29, 2013 | Leave a comment

Step 1: Get knocked up.

Baby registryBaby registry 0

Step 2: Realize your house is a baby death trap.

Baby registry 2

Step 3: Try to stop self from screaming “YES!!!” when mother offers to throw you baby shower.

Baby registry 3

Step 4: Begin immediately fielding calls from everyone you’ve ever met asking if you’ve registered yet.

Baby registry 4

Step 5: Mention to your husband in passing that you should really register soon.

Baby registry 5

Step 6: Half-heartedly attempt to register one night but get distracted by Dawson’s Creek marathon on Netflix.

Baby registry 6

Step 7: Finally sit down to register after death threat from cousin.

Baby registry 7

Step 8: Begin reading the product reviews.

Baby registry 8

Step 9: Stop reading product reviews when blood starts spurting from your eyes.

Baby registry 9

Step 10: Say screw it and start picking things based solely on color and how many adorable dancing giraffes it features. Then eat an entire bag of Cheetos and take a nap. You’ve earned it.

Baby registry 10

Leave a comment

Posted in Humor, Pregnancy

Tagged , , , , , , , ,

Top 8 Parenting Myths Debunked

Posted on October 22, 2013 | 4 comments

I know what you’re thinking.

What the hell does a first-time mom who is only six months pregnant know about parenting?

And the answer is, of course, nothing. Well, almost nothing. I do know that the first poop the baby takes once it’s outside the uterus is apparently a mix of dark matter and pure evil, but I only know that because I read too far in my pregnancy book last week.

13[1]

But after extensive and thorough research where I asked friends who were new parents scientific stuff like “so, does parenthood blow or what?” and “when do babies stop sucking?” and “how much Red Bull and vodka can I chug while simultaneously breastfeeding?” I have gathered enough evidence to debunk the most common myths surrounding this major life change.

Myth No.1: As soon as your baby is born, it’s love at first sight.

Chances are you will not immediately fall in love with your baby. Chances are you’ll look at it and wonder “who the hell is this wrinkled old man who came out of my vagina and what the hell is he covered with?” OK, maybe that’s exaggerating slightly. You could also be thinking “wrinkled old woman.” But the point is, it’s perfectly natural not to feel bonded to your child right away. So don’t worry. You will bond eventually. Possibly even before they go off to college.

image[1]

Myth No. 2: Breastfeeding is the most natural thing in the world.

Breastfeeding is NOT the most natural thing in the world. Far from it. In fact, Joan Rivers’ face is more natural than breastfeeding. Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean feeding a child from your boob is unnatural (despite what those squeamish arseholes in restaurants that just HAVE to complain whenever a woman dares to use her boob in public for anything other than sexual arousal would have you believe). I mean that in no way does this natural act come to you or to your kid naturally. It’s a daily battle the first few weeks, sometimes months, to get you, the baby and your ginormous boobs all on the same page at the same time.

Myth No. 3: Having a baby will bring you and your partner closer than you’ve ever been.

Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation. Or the ass-numbingly dull tedium of changing diapers every two hours. Or perhaps it’s the immense crushing responsibility of having to keep a small human alive. But you and your significant other will hate each other for awhile and argue about stupid crap such as why lil’ Kayleighanna isn’t wearing socks outside when it’s OBVIOUSLY FREEZING OUT THERE AND WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO, KILL OUR DAUGHTER!?! But never fear. This is why God invented grandparents, so that just when your marriage is about to implode, they can take the demon seed for a night and let you two drink until you can’t feel feelings anymore.

Baby-Meme-Sleep[1]

Myth No. 4: Babies are sweet little angels.

Babies, by nature, are not sweet and nice and innocent. They are terrorists. Tiny, tiny terrorists who refuse to let you sleep or eat a warm meal or sit down or shower or pee or talk on the phone or have a beer or leave the house or wear a clean shirt not covered in vomit. But at least they’re your tiny, tiny terrorist.

Myth No. 5: Babies are expensive.

Babies aren’t expensive. Babies are ridiculously, mind-blowingly expensive.  Whatever crap you bought for your baby, it’s not enough. Because apparently babies die if they are not surrounded at all times by educational toys, soggy baby books, slightly less educational toys that play music, no less than five chairs that all move or vibrate or swing in different directions and 76 blankets.

Myth No. 6: Putting your baby into yoga/music/sign language class will give them a jumpstart in life.

Babies think key rings are the height of civilization’s achievements. It’s OK to wait until they aren’t floppy headed drooling machines to sign them up for Infant Interpretive Dancing. Stop stressing out about their future at Harvard when they’re only three-months-old.

favorite-nursery-rhyme[1]

Myth No. 7: Babies cry for a reason.

As it turns out, sometimes there is no reason. Sometimes they’re just crying because they’re a butthead. For reasons why they do this, see Myth No. 4.

Myth No. 8: Religiously reading parenting magazines and websites and blogs will help keep you informed and up-to-date.

Religiously reading parenting magazines and websites and blogs* will help turn you into a competitive and paranoid control freak who lectures other parents about how they really shouldn’t let lil’ Pyke play with their iPhone because the latest studies show that children who are exposed to screens within the first two years of life end up being serial killers who work at Wal-Mart.

And everyone will hate you.

*That is, except for this blog. You should always read this blog.

4 Comments

Posted in Family, Humor, Pregnancy

Tagged , , , , , , , ,

And now it’s time to play The Name Game!

Posted on September 27, 2013 | 1 comment

HOST: Hello, hello, hello and welcome to another round of everyone’s favorite pastime: The Name Game! The only game where soon-to-be parents attempt to pick out a name for their unborn child while facing a series of seemingly insurmountable challenges.

I’m your host, Smiley McToothy.

Let’s meet our first contestant. Fresh off the couch and actually wearing real pants today, say hello to Aprill!

[Clap, Clap, Clap]

So, Aprill, it says here you are 20 weeks pregnant?

APRILL: That’s right, Smiley.

HOST: And you guys have been on the hunt for the perfect name?

APRILL: Yes. And I have to tell you, Smiley, I couldn’t be more excited. I mean, what could possibly go wrong by going public with this extremely personal decision?

HOST: Wonderful. Wonderful. And now let’s bring out contestant No. 2, your husband, Ryan!

[Clap, Clap, Clap]

So, Ryan, this is your first child, yes?

RYAN: Yes, it is, Smiley.

HOST: And how prepared are you to be a father?

RYAN: I want to pee my pants and go hide in a corner on a pretty regular basis these days, Smiley.

HOST: Wonderful. Wonderful. Alright, onto Round One. This round is called the Spousal Veto round, where each of you will pick your top three baby names and give your opponent the chance to mercilessly mock that name and ruin it for all time. Aprill, you’re up first.

APRILL: Finn!

RYAN: I’m not naming my kid after a fish’s body part.

APRILL: Trevor!

RYAN: Oh no. Absolutely not. I went to school with a Trevor and he was just awful. He ate bugs.

APRILL: Landon!

RYAN: Are you kidding? Landon? As in Michael Landon? Why do you hate this child, woman?

HOST: Switch.

RYAN: Tobias!

APRILL: Hi, this is our son, Tobias. Here, let me take his glasses off first before you punch him in the face.

RYAN: James!

APRILL: NO! I mean, I once…um…kissed a guy named James. So I think it’s best to avoid any names that I may have…kissed…in the past.

RYAN: Leviathan! We can call him Levi for short!

APRILL: I think we should get divorced.

[Ding, Ding, Ding]

HOST: And that’s the end of Round One!

The points so far have Aprill in the lead because she is super pregnant and scary right now. On to Round Two where the points are doubled and the stakes are higher as we bring in your closest family and friends to ruin any other names you may be thinking about. Aprill, Ryan, you’re up.

APRILL AND RYAN: Riker!

COUSIN DAVE: Dude, my friend Steve’s pet rat is named Riker.

APRILL AND RYAN: Oscar!

SISTER-IN-LAW VERA: How dare you! You knew that Pete and I wanted to name our future son Oscar! You know, whenever we decide to actually have children in the next five to seven years. I can’t believe how selfish you are!

APRILL AND RYAN: Colton!

AUNT FRIDA: I once watched a porn featuring a Colton. He was delivering a pizza.

[Ding, Ding, Ding]

HOST: Oh, you hear that? That sound means it’s time for our Lightning Round! Aprill, Ryan, in this round you will shout out as many names as you can while our panel of first-graders shows you how they can turn those names into playground taunts.

Ready? And go!

APRILL: Tucker?

FIRST-GRADER: Hey, Tucker! Guess what new word I just learned that rhymes with your name?

RYAN: Apple?

FIRST-GRADER: Your parents stole that from Gwyneth Paltrow! And she’s the worst!

APRILL: Cooper?

FIRST-GRADER: Oh look, it’s Cooper the Pooper Scooper!

RYAN: Charlie?

FIRST-GRADER: Actually, that’s a pretty good name.

RYAN: But for a girl.

FIRST-GRADERS: Collective sigh. 

[Ding, Ding, Ding]

HOST: And time’s up! And our winner is…nobody! Because as we all know, it’s impossible to win The Name Game! See you all next week!

1 Comment

Posted in Family, Humor, Pregnancy

Tagged , , , , , , , ,

Top 10 Perks of Being Pregnant

Posted on September 18, 2013 | 5 comments

10. People will always insist you sit down. Your mom, your significant other, your co-workers. Even the 98-year-old man with scoliosis on the subway will get up and insist you sit down. Already sitting down? No worries. They will then insist that you lie down. Being pregnant, it is practically your JOB to be lazy. That is, unless you listen to “some” people who will insist you stay physically active. But “those” people are doctors and are stupid and also don’t think fried pickles are a good idea for breakfast.

9. Everyone will also always insist you are beautiful. Family, friends, strangers, your creepy neighbor who you now suspect has some kind of weird pregnant lady fetish. Everyone will feel the need to go out of their way to tell you how beautiful you are, you beautiful sacred vessel you. Because apparently while all you see in the mirror is a sweating fatty fat mcfatterson in sweatpants who isn’t wearing any makeup and has Medusa hair, everyone else sees a glowing goddess. Just go with it.

8. Thanks to your nausea, you always get to pick the restaurant because the list of places that don’t make you want to puke is shorter than the list of places that do.

7. Laying on the couch all day in your pajamas while eating chicken wings dipped in guacamole and refusing to shower is no longer considered “sad” and “pathetic” but “good for you” because you’re busy “growing a human.”

6. Your boobs. Your boobs become…they’re just…they’re just so amazing, you guys. If you’re anything like me, for the first time in your life, you will have Playboy Playmate boobies. And as such, you will stand in front of the mirror naked all the time in awe. I mean, you could KILL a MAN with these boobs if you really wanted to! They’re that crazy BIG! So make sure to enjoy them as much as possible before your mean, selfish children exit the womb and ruin them.

5. You can blame the baby for everything. In fact, you will say “the baby made me do it” no less than 417 times during your pregnancy.

4. Being pregnant gives you the god-like power to name something. You, a mere puny human, get to determine what someone will be called for the rest of their life. Obviously, judging by the growing numbers of people named She’D’yn’asty and Periwinkle and Darth, too many parents let this power go to their head. But as they say, absolute power corrupts absolutely and hopefully little Dragon Spike Huddle will understand that someday when he’s older.

3. Want ice cream and a taco at 11 p.m.? Whoever knocked you up is pretty much legally required to go get them for you immediately. And not those tacos from that crappy joint down the street either. No, the good tacos from that place across town where the Blockbuster used to be.

2. You finally have a legitimate excuse to buy those tiny, tiny adorable shoes that are always in the window of every fancy baby boutique. And also any and all tiny adorable baby hats that make infants look like animals.

1. You pretty much get to live like a hobbit. You can eat breakfast, second breakfast and elevensies all before noon (or in some cases before 8 a.m.). You have a new determination to make your life as cozy as possible (Snuggie, Netflix, $60 worth of snacks? BOOM. You got a rockin’ weekend). The TV remote is now your precious and anyone wanting to take it away from you is likely to get their finger bitten off, Gollum-style. And your feet swell up to comically large proportions (hairy toes also possibly included depending on your genetics).

5 Comments

Posted in Health, Humor, Pregnancy

Tagged , , , , , , , ,