SHE READ MY MIND

Last week, my sister-in-law and her three kids came to visit. It was the highlight of my busy week. We love having visitors and miss living close to family, so it is a real treat when anyone comes to stay. However, this post is going to mainly focus on my niece, Adalyn. Dear, sweet, Adalyn.


Adalyn is 5, which seems like 25 in comparison to Luke. The whole time they were here I was offering to take Adalyn and Audrey (her 7 year old sister) to the park, to the store, or WHEREVER they wanted to go! It seemed so much easier taking these "mature" girls out with me than my usual running down the aisles of the grocery store with Luke screaming while being held under my arm in a football hold.

I've always been puzzled by this one cashier at this particular supermarket in town. You see, s/he is a "Pat," i.e., I can't tell if s/he is a man or woman and it is driving me crazy. I'm not trying to be mean, but I really can't tell. Here are the facts:

1. Ambiguous Name (we'll call shim "Chris")
2. About the height of an average woman.
3. Deep voice.
4. No noticeable facial hair whatsoever.
5. Macho mannerisms.
6. Wears loose fitting clothes, so I can't tell what's going on "upstairs."
7. Short Androgynous Haircut

I have been so puzzled by this mystery that I almost asked one of the baggers once if "Chris" was a man or woman to satisfy my own curiosity. Like I said, I'M NOT TRYING TO BE MEAN, you would want to know too? Wouldn't you?

So back to Adalyn and the shopping trip. We get up to the register and what do you know - it's "Chris's" line! Right as we walk up, Adalyn tugs at my shirt and says in her loudest voice,

"AUNT CRISTIN, IS THAT A MAN OR A WOMAN?"

I ignore her, smile at "Chris", and say, "How are you doing today?" Adalyn says again,

"AUNT CRISTIN, IS THAT A MAN OR A WOMAN?"

I look at Adalyn with these pleading eyes and quietly say, "Do not talk until I tell you it's okay. " She says, "But - " I interrupt and whisper, "Please, Addie, don't say anything until I tell you it's okay."

I still don't know if "Chris" is a man or a woman, and it probably isn't my business anyway. Really, what difference is it going to make if I find out? Am I planning to set him/her up with a single friend?

I am learning that no matter what age a child may be, there will almost always be challenges when taking them grocery shopping - whether it is throwing an endless temper tantrum (like Luke) or total humiliation (thanks, Addie).

IT'S COME TO THIS

Can you believe it's come to this? Here is the tent especially made for kids in Africa and Luke:


I took Susanne's suggestion and put up a crib tent on Saturday. She was right! He's trapped! I figure this should last until he's too tall to stand up in it, so maybe age 4? (Just kidding, kind of.) The hope is that Luke will stay in the crib until the new baby needs to use it. I am estimating 4 months.

The funny thing is, I think he actually likes the crib tent. He says, "Tent!" and gets all excited when we put him in the crib. Go figure. I would feel trapped if it were me. When Erik and I first put the tent on, we zipped him into his crib, left the room and laughed for 5 minutes straight like Dr. Claw on Inspector Gadget, "Muh haw haw haw haw."

Any guilt I felt about zipping my child into his bed is also lessened by two thoughts: 1) It's for his own safety, and 2) When malaria comes to town, Luke will survive!

LOCKED OUT

I have never understood why adoptive parents have to jump through so many hoops to "prove themselves" as worthy potential parents, while us who are able to have biological children could be psycho crazy people with serious problems. It just doesn't seem fair.

After my experience this morning, I officially qualify as a psycho crazy person with serious problems... or serious lack of parenting skills.

This morning while Erik was at a meeting, I went into the garage to get something out. I was only planning on being in the garage for 30 seconds. Luke chased me down the hall and the next thing I knew, he locked the door behind me. In other words, I was locked in the freezing garage, barefoot and in my pajamas with no cell phone. Luke was inside the house, ALONE.

At first I tried knocking, and Luke would just knock back, like it was a fun game. I tried coaxing him into unlocking the door, and he wouldn't do it. He left for a minute and came back banging some object on the door. That's when I started getting really scared. Fortunately, Erik had a bag of clothes in the garage (don't ask) and I put on a sweatshirt and his boating shoes. I went around through the backyard to the kitchen sliding glass door and starting knocking again. Eventually Luke came to the door, looked at me, waved, and then started pushing chairs around. Since the blinds were closed, it was hard to see what he was doing. All I could hear was a lot of banging, chairs moving, and then glasses clinking together. I kept saying, "Luke! Luke! Open the door for Mommy. Please. Come open the door!" He wouldn't acknowledge me.

I went around to another window in the kitchen and could see him sitting on the counter eating handfuls of a cake I had left out. He was putting the cake into a glass and then "drinking" it. He looked at me and said, "Mommy! F@*k! (cup) F@*k! (cup)" At this point I didn't know what was worse. Should I sit there and watch my child hurt himself, run to my neighbors for help only to come back to find that he's hurt himself, or break a window and try to cram my 9 month pregnant body through it? I chose to run to the neighbors.

I used my neighbor's phone to call Erik (who didn't answer because he didn't recognize the number). Fortunately, after about 5 more minutes, my neighbor broke open the lock with two knives and a hammer. I ran in the house and found Luke standing on a chair at the kitchen counter, still eating the cake, with a steak knife in his left hand. Erik got home 5 minutes later and said, "What's with the cake all over the house?" I wanted to start screaming.

Since 6+ hours have passed, I can finally laugh a little about the experience. However, right after it happened, all I could think about was what a lousy irresponsible mother I am. I have to keep reminding myself to count my blessings because this could have been much worse. I could have been in my bathrobe. Luke could have seriously injured himself. My neighbors could not have been home. This will not be happening again. I am already thinking of a gazillion ways this can be prevented in the future. Just please don't report me to Child Protective Services. It was an accident, I promise.

TRANSITION

I haven't blogged a lot this week, for various reasons. The #1 probably being that Luke has stopped sleeping like he normally does and it makes me want to poke my eye out with a stick. Literally.

It all started last week when we went to Camarillo for a few days. He quickly figured out that he could escape from the Pack n' Play. That was fine. We were in a new place, so that was to be expected. The only way to get him to stay in bed was to lay in the room with him until he fell asleep.

We got home, and I guess the Pack n' Play gave him some ideas. The first night home, he scaled the sides of his crib, and came out of his room doing a victory dance. He's been escaping his crib for some time now and we keep lowering it. About 2 months ago, Erik actually drilled new holes into the crib and lowered it as far as it can possibly go. We both knew we were prolonging the inevitable task of teaching him to sleep in a "big boy" bed, but we were hoping that we could get another good 6 month use out of the crib so that we wouldn't need to deal with this until after the new baby arrived.

No such luck.

Last night was so bad that Erik and I took turns walking Luke back to bed. We would trade off - he takes 10 walks back, I take 10 walks back. It lasted like this for over an hour. Finally, around 11:30 p.m., Luke stopped coming out of his room.

I know a lot of people suggest making his room into a "big crib," i.e., locking him in there one way or another. I don't feel good about doing that just yet. Maybe I will get to a point of desperation where that is an option, but not now. Naps haven't been too big of a problem because he's so tired the next day from not sleeping the night before that he falls asleep within minutes.

I'm trying to keep a good perspective on all of this. It will pass. He will grow up. Things will be okay. Just for today though, this week, all I keep thinking is, "Why now? Of all the times to stop sleeping so well, why are you picking to do this just weeks before my due date?" When Luke was sleeping well, I was scared to have two kids. Now that he's doing this, I am TERRIFIED of having two children.

I'm going to go take a nap now.

BABY NAME UPDATE

In case you were wondering, we're still deliberating names. The contest is still open. We have gone through everyone's entries, and this is where we're at so far:

Erik's Favorites
Frederik
Clark
Logan
Carl
Johannes
Jude
Dwight
Seth
Conrad
Lance
Sven
Ezra
Finn
Stewart
Aksel
Rusty
Maximus
Levi
Gordon
Ezekiel

My Favorites
William
Will
Jake
Ethan
Liam
Ikea
Ian
Matthew

The Only Names Both of Us Like
Noah
Jack
Elijah
Charles

CANDYLAND

Candy is so misleading. It always looks good, but then once you eat it, you feel sick. You know what I am talking about? I never feel good after eating lots of candy. We have been celebrating Easter for what feels like the past five days. What is with the massive amounts of junk food and candy associated with this holiday? I don't get it.

This is also our first holiday that Luke has been able and wanted to eat the candy, which adds a whole new dimension to Easter. I don't think he understood that people were putting candy in his bag on Halloween, but now he knows exactly what is in those plastic eggs and he can't get enough of it.

I have found myself wondering a lot this weekend about what kind of mother I want to be on "candy" holidays, such as Easter. Do I want to -

- be the mother that puts goldfish crackers, raisins and stickers in the eggs?
- put nothing in the eggs?
- banish him from eating candy?
- let him eat as much as he wants as long as he doesn't have his adult teeth in yet?
- throw away his candy?
- let him go hog wild until he is sick and puking up Cadbury eggs?


This picture is from last Wednesday when we did an Easter egg hunt with the playgroup in Tehachapi. In addition to the egg hunt, there was a potluck with tons of brownies and cookies. Luke, of course, gravitated towards the sweets and probably sneaked half a plate of brownies while I wasn't looking. Pretty gross. That was a miserable day. Since he was so wound up and full from the candy and sweets, he didn't take a nap or eat lunch and dinner. I have no desire to repeat Wednesday.

We got to Camarillo Wednesday night and have been eating candy non-stop. As I type this, Luke is tearing around the house at 11:00 p.m. on a major sugar high. This is another situation I do not wish to repeat. Is it possible to celebrate the holidays like "normal people" without the candy overload? My mother tried her hardest by making us trick-or-treat for UNICEF and giving out plastic spider rings - but you know what? Kids made fun of me at school by waving their plastic spider rings in my face! I know I shouldn't care what other people think, but I don't want Luke writing a blog 30 years from now about how he's "ruined" because his mother never let him eat Easter candy.

Collecting candy.

Collecting more candy. Ugh. Already feeling sick from candy.

Luke and his uncle, Jonathan, showing off their Easter bonnets.

CHIKEZIE, CHEESY, JACUZZI, ... WHATEVER YOUR NAME IS

Erik really liked Chikezie's performance last night on American Idol. I didn't. He ruined a really good song, so much so that Erik asked me, "Are you sure that's a Beatles song?" Here's the offensive performance:



DISCLAIMER: I did not like "Across the Universe." The story was very superficial and irritating. The filmmakers should have just made 30+ music videos instead of trying to connect these amazing Beatles' songs with stupid dialogue and a story I didn't care about. I do not recommend this movie to anyone.

With that being said, Jim Sturgess has a great voice and this is an excellent scene. Just remember though, this clip is misleading. As good as it may look, this movie is not worth watching, and is actually kind of offensive.

Here's how I wish Chikezie would have sounded:

PIZZA GIVEAWAY UPDATE

The contest is still on, and after seeing everyone's entries, I'm getting more confident that we will use one of the names listed and someone will win a pizza. So, if you haven't entered yet, you still have a chance. This game has been very helpful to me. I'm starting to see a light at the end of the "name tunnel."

Things to note, however:

I will not be naming this kid after ex-boyfriends. It's an unwritten rule. (A few of you mentioned Benjamin. Sorry, it's a great name, but it's a no go. Erik always jokes that if we have a girl her name will be Leslie Courtney Denae Lassen.)

Erik won't allow duplicates (whereas I could care less), i.e., if there is already a Peter Lassen or Will Lassen that we know, it won't work. This is a huge problem since his Aunt Gayle has taken all the really good names.

If we choose a name that has been mentioned multiple times by different people, the pizza will go to whoever suggested the name first.

THE GREAT PIZZA GIVEAWAY!!

You know you're desperate when you are holding a contest on your blog to name your baby.

With that being said, I am holding a contest on my blog to name our baby.

Erik and I still can't agree on baby names, we're not even close. I'm beginning to wonder how we ever named Luke. We've gone through the Bible Dictionary and all sorts of family history files. I'm looking for a good first name. Middle names are easy because they are like the token answer I give when Erik suggests a strange name, for example: "Wow, Erik, Juan and Nigel are interesting suggestions. Maybe as a middle name?" So, put on your thinking caps and give me your suggestions. You could win a free pizza! WOWZERS. (Sorry, a pizza's all I can offer. I'm having another baby, cash is tight. )

The Rules

1. Each person is limited to suggesting no more than 5 first names.
2. Entries must be submitted as a comment to this post.
3. If you can give me a reason why a certain name is significant, you will probably have a better chance of winning.
4. Everyone is eligible to play regardless of where you live, except Erik.
5. If we choose your name, you receive a free large pizza on me, delivered to your house. (We'll work out your address and other details later.) I'm not talking a Little Cesar's $5 pizza either, it'll be at least Papa John's or whatever your favorite kind in your town is.
6. The contest closes when we choose a name.
7. I reserve the right to not use any of the suggested names because you people might be crazy.

I'M BUYING A STICK

NOTE TO SELF: The next time you see a big pregnant lady when you are not pregnant, you may be tempted to think how wonderful it is to be 9 months pregnant. Knowing you, you will also start fantasizing about feeling a baby move inside you, blah blah blah. Cristin - remember this post.


I am big and my back hurts. (This is what I get for having a relatively nausea-free pregnancy.) It's gotten bad. So bad, that tonight I'm going out to buy a little stick like the one pictured above. It's the only way I'm going to get anything done around the house. All I see are itsy bitsy toys, socks, trash, etc. on the floor... a floor that feels miles away from my hands. My childbirth instructor told me to welcome these opportunities to pick things up off the floor, because it would give me the opportunity to squat in preparation for labor. Sounds nice, but in reality, what's the use in squatting if I can't get back up again once I am on the floor? Plus, there is nothing that makes me feel more like Humpty Dumpty than tipping over to one side while squatting at 35 weeks pregnant. Other uses for the stick:

Help me put on my shoes and socks.
Help me grab things out of Luke's crib.
Help me pick up garbage on the side of the freeway.

Me at 35 weeks. I am smiling, but it's all a facade. What I'm really thinking is, "My back is killing me. I wish I could pick up that thing Luke left on the floor. Agh."

Luke with the birthing/yoga ball. His new favorite toy.

MOVIE REVIEW: DAN IN REAL LIFE

We rented "Dan in Real Life" this weekend. Very predictable, but let's just say I was entertained enough to not fall asleep during the movie, which lately has been a big problem for me. Steve Carell actually seemed to be acting like a different character than his Office persona, which is always a nice change. I did find the whole shower scene pretty unbelievable, however. Yet, other than that, I enjoyed it a lot more than other Steve Carell movies, like the ridiculous, "Evan Almighty."

The best part of the movie was not actually in the movie, but something Erik said while we were watching it.

Erik: This is good, but I find it very hard to believe that anyone's family would spend that much time together.

Me: (Spitting out my water) Seriously? Did you just say that? Excuse me?? Are we not in the same Lassen family?

If you haven't seen the movie, I am giving nothing away by telling you that Steve Carell's character spends a week with his extended family. They play football, go kayaking, exercise, have crossword competitions, do each other's hair, eat every meal together, go bowling, tour lighthouses, etc. Perhaps the Lassen family doesn't do things like tour lighthouses, but we really do spend that amount of time together. Good thing I really like my in-laws, huh?

GRADE: B

DON'T FORGET TO FLUSH

I wasn't going to post anything else today, but I can't stop thinking about this story that Brandon linked to on his blog. I tried to explain the article to Erik last night at about 12:30 a.m. and he kept saying, "I'm tired. You're not making any sense. That's not even possible. I'm going to sleep." I don't know why more news agencies haven't picked up on this (oh, that's right, it's an election year), but it really is strange the more I think about it. Go read the article, and then come back so we can discuss.

You're back - okay, how does a toilet seat get physically stuck to your skin? Why did it take 23 months for her boyfriend to call the cops and say, "I think something's wrong with my girlfriend." I love that the Sheriff in the article says "... I'm still having a hard time imagining it myself." That's weird, because you know that we are all sitting at our computers right now imagining someone walking around with a toilet seat stuck to their bare bottom. As much as you don't want that image in your head, there it is. I wonder if when she sat down she knew she would be there for 2 years. It is also strange that her boyfriend brought her food and water every day. Isn't it funny that even a girl with a toilet seat stuck to her rear end for two years can keep a boyfriend? There really is someone for everyone.

Erik's sisters have sworn for years that Erik used to play the saxophone on the toilet. Erik denies this vehemently. He has even taken a saxophone into the bathroom at his parents' house where the alleged event occurred, sat on the toilet seat and demonstrated how it would be physically impossible to play a saxophone while on the toilet because there is not enough room to hold it to the side. (I think his demonstration is flawed because he's not accounting for the difference in his adult size compared to his teenage size, and perhaps the saxophone was even smaller back then, who knows.) Erik says that when we all die and watch the movies of our lives, he will specifically fast forward to the part where everyone thinks he would be playing the saxophone on the toilet, just to show he wasn't. Wow, that should be some movie.

The whole point is that if a woman can survive sitting on the toilet for two years, then anything is possible, especially saxophone playing on the toilet. Sorry, Erik, I still don't believe you. It just sounds like something you would do.

WARNING: EXPLICIT LANGUAGE (NSFW)

Luke talks a lot. He's pretty good at saying most things, but there are still many things he identifies incorrectly. He loves to name off letters when he sees them. (If he sees an H, he'll say "E!" For a G he'll say "H!") Zebras are called "horsies. " Anything that looks like a bird is a "chicken." Every boy is named "Johnny." He calls kids older than him, "babies." Every time one of us goes to the bathroom he'll say, "Daddy (or Mommy) has poopies." Eggs are "balls." Any red vegetable is an "onion." You get the idea. However, I'm like, "Hey, you're talking! Who cares what you call things!"

The worst offense though is his pronunciation of the word cup. He used to say "bup" when he was younger, and I have no clue how this evolved into what it did. The worst came today while we were in the Dollar Tree. He was wearing a yellow Easter bucket on his head, happily identifying everything we were walking past, drawing attention to himself, saying things like, "Toy!" "Bear" "Blanket" "Book." Other customers were commenting, "Oh, your little boy is so cute," and I was gloating because Luke hardly ever behaves well when we are out shopping. Then we enter the cup aisle (you know where they sell all the mugs that contain lead poisoning warnings) and Luke starts yelling, "CUP! CUP!" Except he wasn't saying cup how you and I might say it and it was drawing a lot more attention than his little cute identifying words minutes earlier. All I could do was say in a loud voice, "That's right Luke. Those are CUPS. CUPS, CUPS, CUPS."

If you're curious how Luke pronounces cup, here's a short video. Like I said, you've been warned, this video contains explicit language. I don't know how he turns cup into this. (Maybe Erik is teaching him things when I'm not around?)

LOST RECAP: PANDA EXPRESS

The best part of this episode is a tie between a) the stupid doctor while Sun was giving birth that said, "You need a c-section" and then the nurse said 5 seconds later, "I can see the baby's head." and b) when Sun slapped Juliette.

According to some total Lost geeks on Wikipedia, Sun's story was a flashforward to mid-2005, while Jin's story was a flashback to 2002, the last year of the dragon. This would make more sense. The date of Jin's gravestone was the date of the plane crash and the toy store clerk did mention it was the year of the dragon.

Besides that, I am so confused. Does Sun think Jin is dead? (I think the people that didn't make it off the island are still alive.) Why is Hurley the only one to visit Sun? Is Sun really in Korea or is she in Koreatown, California?

Back in "real time" - should we trust Captain Gump or Dumb or whatever his name was? Is Future Sayid killing people for Ben to collect bodies to fake plane crashes all over the world? Is there some significance to the lima beans? I think its safe to assume that Michael is the spy on the boat. (One point for me.) Why does everyone allow themselves to be manipulated by Ben?

Last week we had some friends over to watch Lost who hadn't watched the show before and no matter how much we tried to explain it, I couldn't even make it make sense to myself. Every time I write a Lost recap I feel dorky like Dwight Schrute. Bears, beets, Battlestar Galactica... and now, Lost.

WHAT A WASTE

I have been spending the last few days slowly moving Luke's things into his new room, and sorting through baby things to get Jurgen Danger's room all set up. (I say slowly because I am literally waddling down the hall as I transfer clothes and books. I don't remember being this big or tired with Luke.) It's funny to find all those baby things that I thought were so important at the time. Of course, the winner of the most useless baby purchase is the DIAPER GENIE.

I was very fortunate to get a lot of baby shower gifts with Luke, but nobody gave me a Diaper Genie. (Hmmm, maybe because everyone else knew it was a waste o' money?) A few weeks before my due date I purchased one at Target, along with the "can't live without" refills. We used that thing faithfully for about the first 5 months until we realized, "Hey, we're idiots. Are we so lazy that we can't open up the door and throw a stinky diaper into the big garbage can?" The other irony is that babies' diapers generally don't get super stinky until they start eating solid foods.

The only way I could see the diaper genie being useful is if you were in a wheelchair, on bed rest, or morbidly obese. People say these are crucial if you live in a large apartment complex, but what large apartment complex doesn't have a garbage chute down the hall?

Kudos to the inventors of the diaper genie. They have created a useless product and yet somehow made it seem imperative to millions of parents worldwide. It is also consumable, i.e., you will continue to spend $10+ a month on refills to enable your Diaper Genie. The only other thing that comes close to its uselessness is the quilt that comes with a crib bedding set, but even then, you could hang that on a wall or use it when your child is older.

Needless to say, I am selling my "Used, But Clean and in Excellent Condition" Diaper Genie on Craigslist for $10 OBO to some other sucker.

WHAT DO YOU CALL YOUR GRANDPARENTS?

We are experiencing some "MAJOR" family drama right now.

QUICK POLL:




What name does this woman (my mother) look like to you?

a. Grandma
b. Mormor
c. Captain McGuillicutty
d. Alcoholly
e. You don't really care... let her pick her own name!

From what I understand, it is a big sense of pride for grandparents to choose their name. For example, my grandparents have chosen to be called Mimi, Papa, Grandaddy and Lollie. Luke's grandparents have chosen Gramma, Gramps, Grandpa and Grandma. While in Arizona a few weeks ago, we noticed that Luke calls all his grandparents the exact same thing, "Fra Fra." This sounds very similar to the danish word for father's father, "Farfar." This gave my mother the idea to change her name to "Mormor," which is the danish word for mother's mother. She is considering this for two reasons: 1) She has all girls, so Mormor would apply to all the grandkids. 2) Luke can say it very well. I told her that whatever she chooses, she better do so fast because her window of opportunity is quickly closing. (Luke is the oldest grandchild and pretty soon whatever name she chooses is going to stick, if it hasn't already.)

My sisters are freaking out. You would think that my mother was asking them to change their names. I'll admit, at first I thought Mormor sounded stupid too (especially because we're not danish), but then Erik said he thought it was cute and it was her right to have whatever grandparent name she wanted. I thought about it, and he's totally right. I also like that Luke can say it. Plus differentiating between the Gramma (Lassen) and Grandma (Goodrich) was getting confusing. My sisters think my Mom asking the grandkids to call her Mormor is the first step in her becoming like Lollie - who by the way if anyone is dying for an update - has been moved to a real psychiatric hospital, told the nurses that Elaine (her given name) is dead, and that she will now be known as "Alcohoholly." So, at least my mom is not considering Alcohoholly as her grandparent name. Besides being weird, it's already taken in the family and if there were two Alcohollies, that would really confuse Luke.

SOMETIMES I WISH MY SISTERS LIVED NEXT DOOR

My husband is a really good guy, but even good guys have their limits.

For my 30th birthday, my sister, Kaci, gave me the board game, American Idol: All Star Challenge. It's like a cross between the poor man's Karaoke Revolution and Scene It... so naturally, this is the kind of game I would love. The only problem is that although there are probably quite a few "girlfriends" in town I could call to come over and play this with me, I'm too cool to let anyone know that this is what I really like to do. (As far as my everyday friends know, I am an adult who plays adult games, like Scrabble and Risk, not immature games like American Idol: All Star Challenge. I don't want to break my cover.) So, it was either call my Beehives or force my husband to play with me. I chose the latter.

I thought it was really fun, especially since I was beating Erik like crazy. (It's pathetic how much of my brain space is used up with useless American Idol knowledge and "People Magazine-esque" gossip.) There is this karaoke part to the game that really makes no sense, except that you get to sing into an echo chamber microphone. I was getting really into my version of "I'm a Slave 4 U" when I turn around after the chorus to find Erik like this:

Guess he didn't enjoy it as much as me. It's times like these that I wish my sisters lived next door. They would totally play this with me and maybe even enjoy it.

Echo chamber microphones are like the next best thing to a real one.

On a totally unrelated note, one of the whisks on my Bosch mixer broke tonight while I was making cookies. As we were eating the cookies, we kept finding "almonds" (aka white plastic shards) in the cookies. I don't think I ate any of the plastic, but the thought of it is making me sick. I wonder what kind of effect white plastic shards would have on Jurgen Danger if by chance I ingested some.

BORED, REALLY?

If I had a dollar for every time I heard some stay-at-home mother at a playgroup say, "I'm bored being at home with my kid(s), " I would have like $1,000. Maybe $1,500. (I also hear things like, "I didn't go to college for 6 years to be a stay-at-home mom." That's to be addressed in another post, another day.)

I don't get it. Bored is not an adjective I would choose. If I had to choose negative ways to describe my current life, I would pick:

Exasperated
Tired Beyond Human Comprehension
Lonely
Finding it Strange that I have "Adult Conversations" with a 20 Month Old

But, BORED? Really? The only almost legitimate reason I can think of for saying that is if you possibly had an angelic baby who did nothing but nursed and slept all day, but even then you could read a book or watch t.v. or something. That doesn't sound boring to me. Can being a stay-at-home mom be monotonous? Yes, of course! However, what job isn't monotonous? Even my husband, who loves his job, admits to a little monotony here and there. I don't think monotony has to equal boredom necessarily. Besides, the more you do the same thing, the more you improve (i.e., practice makes perfect). I like that aspect to my current situation. (For example, I am getting really good at changing diapers and catching Luke before he runs into the street.)

Maybe I am doing something wrong if so many other mothers are bored. Am I making things harder than they have to be? Bored mothers, please share your secrets with me, because what I feel is not even close to bored every day. In fact, sometimes I think things like, "Wouldn't it be neat if I broke both my legs and then I could sit around all day with a little bell, watching DVD's and have someone take care of me?"

You know you're tired when you start fantasizing about broken legs. But, BORED? Really?

WHAT'S IN A NAME ANYWAY?

News flash: We were never really going to name Baby #2 Jurgen (pronounced URINE) Danger. Funny joke, ha ha. However, now that this baby is coming next month, I'm getting really nervous that we might have to name him Jurgen Danger since Erik and I can't agree on anything else.

Nancy posted this list of the 10 worst baby names of 2007 according to MSN on her blog. MSN obviously haven't spoken to my husband lately, because he has some really lousy ones he's pushing for. In fact, it is SO painful to discuss baby names together that we avoid the topic whenever possible. Since it's getting down to the wire, I asked him again last night if he had any new name ideas. Here are his legitimate and serious suggestions:

Neil Armstrong Lassen
George Patton Lassen
Dwight Eisenhower Lassen

and then the best one -

Burt Rutan Lassen.

Burt is Erik's boss. Can you imagine naming your child after your boss? I said, "Well, with that kind of butt kissing you'd definitely make it into the Carbon Copy (the Company's newsletter)."

You might remember a few years ago that this casino, Golden Palace, paid a woman $15,199 to switch her name to Goldenpalace.com. (She said she needed the money to send one of her children to golf school. Oh, a mother's love. How sweet!) A few months after that, the casino found a family who named their child "Goldenpalace.com Silverman" in exchange for $15,000. This got me thinking. We missed the boat on naming Luke, but with Baby #2 we could potentially be making lots of money off of his naming rights. The money would definitely pay for him to go to golf school, and maybe even college! So if you hear of any possible leads, let me know.

Until then, it looks like Burt Rutan Lassen is the best potential moneymaker we've come up with since it's possible Erik could get some sort of bonus out of the deal. Hey, you never know till you try!

REGRETS

One of the most common questions I get asked (besides "How do you drain the AquaDoula?) is, "What are you going to differently with your second child?" One of my biggest problems with Luke was a serious lack of sleep. I was waking up at least twice a night until he was 1, which also meant that I was walking around in a daze for the first year. One of the new things I am doing with Baby #2 is buying an Arm's Reach Co-sleeper with the hopes that if I don't have to really get up to nurse the baby at night, the lack of sleep won't effect me as much. If it doesn't work, these co-sleepers have great resale value on Ebay. Win-win.

When Luke was around 9 months old and I was really struggling with getting him to sleep for more than a 3 hour stretch, I took on a suggestion in Elizabeth Pantley's book, "The No Cry Sleep Solution," to give my child something that would remind him of me while he slept. I chose one of my slips. I knew many other kids who had "silkies," so it just seemed natural for Luke to have one too. This helped tremendously and Luke started sleeping for longer stretches. Who would have thought back then that his silky (or "gilky" as he calls it) would evolve into what seems like a "third member" of our family.


Luke seriously treats his silky like a pet. He calls out for it and shows it off to everyone. When Luke and Silky are reunited, he embraces it. He also likes to suck on it (see above). When I put it in the washer and dryer, he cries. (Believe me, that thing is FILTHY.) I tried to actually use it as a slip a few weeks back and he screamed the entire time at church because he knew I had it on. I wanted to scream too because it wasn't until I got to church that it dawned on me that I was wearing a dirty slip drenched in saliva that stunk like rotten milk and goldfish crackers.

I still believe that giving Luke something was pivotal in helping him sleep longer, I just wish it could have been something cuter. I think it's adorable when kids have cute "blankies" or stuffed animals, but ladies lingerie is really embarrassing. When he stands on the pew during sacrament meeting, waving his silky above his head at the people behind us, I just want to curl up and melt into the seat. For every well meaning person who has come up to me to say their child did the same thing, I'm sure there are at least ten people thinking why on earth would I allow my child to bring ladies underwear to church. (I'm thinking the same thing people. The answer: DESPERATION.)

I recently tried going to a fabric store in an effort to make something that resembled the silky for him. No such luck. I had Luke feel a few fabrics and he could not be fooled. Another option is sewing a zebra head or something else "cutesy" on the slip so as to make it not look so bad.

So, back to answering the question of what I will do differently with the next one: I will not be giving Baby #2 anything that I wouldn't want him walking around with in public (i.e., my slip).

I'VE SEEN THAT SMILE SOMEWHERE BEFORE

I'm trying to stay above the garbage, but some of this year's American Idol scandals are too good not to mention. Of course, there was Robbie Carrico with his alleged wig and Amanda Overmeyer's DUI (no shock there!), but the worst scandal is concerning David Hernandez from Glendale, Arizona. It seems that for the past three years he's been working as a stripper at the "mostly male" nightclub, "Dick's Cabaret."

Ah, yes, DICK'S! That's where I knew him from! I was wondering why he seemed so familiar.

Seriously, that is how he was found out. American Idol viewers recognized his face (and probably other body parts) from his stint at Dick's. His boss at Dick's said he was really good because he "had the look." So far, AI producers are keeping him on the show.

Remember "back in the day" when AI contestant Frenchie Davis got kicked off for her nude photos? That seems like another era now. Which Top 24 contestant doesn't have an illicit past these days? (Even "sweet" Ramiele Mulubay has had yucky photos surface recently.) Maybe there are so many of them with background problems these days, that the producers have to keep them on or the 2 Mormons would be the only ones left. Is it becoming so commonplace for performers to have exhibited the type of behavior that would make normal people blush that we are accepting it as normal for any up and coming star to adopt the behavior of a Lindsey, Britney or Paris before they "hit it big"?

I'll tell you one thing, it does make me think twice about David Hernandez's dance moves during his performances.

This performance by David Hernandez is for my sister, Caitlin, because I know how much she loved it.

IT'S SERIOUS NOW

At the direction of my midwife, I just went to this website and purchased an ambiguous package called the "Family Midwifery Service Birth Kit." There are no pictures of what I will be receiving, so I think it's safe to assume that the kit will look something like this:

(clicking on this picture will make it REALLY BIG)

If this picture is accurate, then I just paid $54 for a huge box of newspapers to "protect" the bed and dresser, as well as to cover the placenta so we don't have to look at it.

Other preparations include the rental of this tub:


My first thought when I saw this little tub was how on earth am I going to fit in that thing? I better fit in that or I want my money back.

The point of posting this is that looking at all these pictures today made me think that I really am a weirdo. Then I found this picture of a typical hospital labor and delivery room:

This is probably similar to the hospital room where I had Luke. It doesn't really look anymore inviting to me than the AquaDoula. In fact, if I really think about it, that bed looks really uncomfortable. I would much rather scrunch into the AquaDoula and at least be comfortable and warm when pushing the little guy out. Plus, the risk of tearing is much less in the AquaDoula. (Added bonus!)

The great thing about being in labor last time was that when we finally arrived at the hospital, I was almost heading into transition so I didn't really know what was going on and didn't have time to take in my surroundings. The tour I had gotten of the hospital weeks earlier where I thought, "Oh how cute, there's a t.v. and stuffed animals in a corner of the labor and delivery room," didn't matter because I was so out of it, or let's say, focused on getting the baby out by the time we arrived.

Either way, home or hospital, AquaDoula or Sterile Bed on Wheels, labor is not glamorous. So, why should it really matter what shows up in the mysterious "Family Midwifery Service Birth Kit"? I mean, if it takes a pile of newspapers and a spotlight to have this baby at home, then so be it. They could have been using newspapers galore at the hospital and I wouldn't have even known it.

THE BIG QUESTION OF THE DAY

Is it worth it to renew my Costco membership?

We've had a Costco membership for the past 4 years because we got it through work or as a gift, but now, for the first time, we need to decide whether or not it is worth it for us to shell out $50 to pay for it.

I currently shop there twice a month. I buy a lot of things there, but that's not to say I couldn't get the same deals elsewhere. Do I have some brand loyalty to Kirkland? Probably more than I'd like to admit. We can't fill up one of our cars there because they don't sell diesel. Although we don't have a huge family that requires wholesale sizes of products, I still enjoy buying the big things of cheese, Cheerios, eggs, butter, etc. Baby wipes, garbage bags, and paper towels seem cheap, but that could also be my imagination.

I think that a major indication that you are a full fledged adult is if you pay for your own Costco membership. I don't know if I'm ready to enter that phase of adulthood yet. Plus, whenever I am in Costco I see all these really big people with really big backsides pushing around really big shopping carts full of really big bags of pork rinds. Am I destined to turn into "that" if I keep shopping there? Adulthood is so scary.

THE GREAT MANIPULATOR

Or should I say that I am "THE GREAT SUCKER"?

Blame it on our insane amount of traveling this past month, but Luke has been having a really difficult time going to sleep. It is like non-stop screaming, thrashing around, etc. For some reason, I can handle his crying because I know that when he gets raving mad like that, there is nothing I can do. What I can't handle, however, is that moment when he stops screaming and I can hear his little voice asking for things from his bedroom.

His most common requests:

"Fan Off!"
"Fan On!"
"Light!"
"Sing a song!"
"Book please!"

The other night it was "Eat pizza!" I thought it was such a funny request. Of course I totally fell for it. All I could think was, "What if the poor child is starving? I mean, he hasn't eaten for 2 hours." Within minutes I had visions of my 20 month old wasting away in his crib from lack of food and me being turned into Child Protective Services for refusing his late night request to "Eat pizza!" I took some leftover pizza out of the refrigerator, put it on the table and when I got him out of his crib, he didn't even touch it. Instead he just sat there and blabbered away, ecstatic that he had succeeded in getting out of his crib. Every time I give into one of Luke's bedtime requests, Erik laughs, "You totally fell for it, heh heh heh," as if he would never ever be so stupid to fall for the Great Manipulator. Whatever.

Last night around 9:00 p.m. I heard Luke whimpering, "Mommy, Daddy, sing a song! Sing a song!" All I could think was "BE STRONG. Do not give in." Then, 5 minutes later, I heard Erik in Luke's room belting out music from Phantom of the Opera. See, I am not the only sucker in this house.

My greatest fear is that we have to go on Supernanny and she tells us that our children are brats because we are suckers. Oh, that would be total humiliation on national television. Why do parents go on that show?