The one where I want to kiss Al Gore

This morning, as per my regular AM routine, I sat outside with coffee. And I did not sweat. Not only did I not break a sweat, when the wind blew, I got a little chill.
Enjoyable, right?
Except we're in the very sunny and very hot South Florida. It's not supposed to be 73 degrees in the middle of July. Crap, it's hardly 73 degrees in the middle of January.
What gives, Momma Nature? What gives?

Consider this your warning

I'm not really sure how to announce to your family & friends (and clearly the entire world of internets) that your husband and you are trying to have a baby.
"Hey Grandma! Guess what? I'm going to be having a lot of sex these days! Hello...? Um, Gram? Heloooooo?"
"Hi Mom - yeah I'm doing good. Listen, I need you to babysit Olivia for 3 nights every month for the next few months. Oh, what are we doing? We'll be doing it in efforts to give you another grandchild. Mom? Where'd you go, Mom?"
"Boss! Please consider this your official notice: I may be extremely distracted from my actual job in order to do things like take my temperature and track my fertility and you know, blog about it. Hope ya don't mind! And by the way, I could really use a raise and 3 months paid maternity leave sometime in the near future. Thanks!"

Yes - after many years of discussion (ahem - see: begging) - Danny has finally come to his senses and decided he'd like another baby. Those of you who know us personally know what this means for me and what a huge step it is for that sweet, sweet husband of mine. Bless his baby-wantin' heart.
The first step is getting a pre-pregnancy plan - which I'll be establishing with my new OB/GYN next week. And effective immediately, I'm on a quest to loose weight. No, I won't tell you how much. The number is too big. Trust me.

Sex Ed - the 7 year old's version

Olivia: I know how you get pregnant.
Me: :::intrigued & very, very scared::: Oh? How?
Olivia: Well, first you pee on a stick, of course. Then you go to the hospital and get x-rays of your belly. Then, you go back home for a little while and go back to the hospital and the doctor takes the baby out.
Me: No, that's not really how it works.
Olivia: Oooh, something shiny! Look, Mom!

Calling all people smarter than me!

I really, really, really need my blog redesigned.

Would someone PLEASE help me?

Getting on that Pop Star band wagon

When you have a 7 1/2 year old daughter who's allowed to watch Disney Channel exclusively*, it's only natural that an embarrassing amount of the family budget goes towards Hannah Montana junk.

Hannah's original ego, Miley Cyrus has a new CD coming out on July 22nd (Happy Birthday, Mom!) and her first single from that CD is "7 Things". Here's the video. Here are the lyrics.

First, Miley co-wrote the song; which for the record, I really like - it's catchy and smart. I've been bopping to it for a week. I completely relate to the lyrics (I love being 26 - makes it easier to remember being 15.) and the video is original.
Second, I feel bad for what the media has done to poor Miley. The media & her parents are to blame for that whole "Mileygate" incident. (Hm, blaming media & parents - Lindsay Lohan, anyone?) All in all, I think she's a cute girl from a cute town with a cute voice. I like her. And if you can keep your kids away from mainstream media (meaning anything NOT Disney Channel), she's an excellent role model for little girls.

Now, I'm going to pick on her a little bit. Before you read ahead, please click on the link above to see the lyrics.
Perhaps while Miles was trying on blonde wigs, she missed the part in math class where you learn to count to 12. Because that's how many things she hates about you. Not 7.
Go see the video now. Back? Ok. Seriously, what's with the "shaw"s? I don't get it. And the over exaggerated facial expressions are just killing me. I've resorted to having to watch the Sims version of the video because I cannot stop the giggling once I get to the end of the video with all the melodrama.

Please excuse me while I pre-order my daughter's copy of the cd.

*I've found Disney Channel to be the only channel with programming that my child can watch unsupervised. That doesn't mean her and her father sneak in an episode of Family Guy once a week. Good, wholesome family togetherness.

The vacation that wasn't a vacation

You may have noticed that I haven't mentioned my vacation yet... I wasn't going to as I'm still emotionally recovering from what was the most exhausting (and by exhausting I do not mean exhilarating) vacation of my life.
My beloved grandmother experienced flu-like symptoms shortly before my arrival; nothing to worry about, just a little bug. Except the day I arrived, something was off. Except my grandmother is the type of woman who raised 11 children - 6 of them not biologically hers - who suffered from various handicaps (some physical, some emotional). So she refuses to be knocked down by anything - especially a tiny little flu bug. We were all muzzled from expressing our concerns on her health that day and decided Day 2 would be much better. You can probably predict this next sentence: She was not better; she was worse. Way worse. She was in and out of consciousness, didn't recognize any of us, even her favorite sister and was so sick, she literally could not sit up on her own. There were several hours of pleading, arguing and demanding before her favorite sister sat on my Gram's bed and said if she didn't go to the hospital, we would call 911 and that would create a big scene at the campground. A few more hours pass and we've finally got her into the tiny but efficient hospital. Assuming she is simply exhausted, dehydrated and with flu symptoms, we conclude "they" (hospital peeps) will keep her overnight with IV fluids, a couple of bottles full of pills and send her on her way. Turns out she was suffering from pneumonia and was bit by a (non-deer) tick and was very, very, very ill. She stayed in the hospital 3 more days - more than half of my time in Vermont.
I can handle physical illness - give me your best puking, coughing up phlegm and bleeding from limbs and I'm ok. I don't do emotional and mental illness well. Especially from my grandmother who's been a strong, sharp and quick personality in my life. Gram was confused. You could see it in her enlarged eyes; it was terrifying. I could not cry because crying meant something was wrong and there was reason to be scared.
I rented a car and took Olivia to a couple of planned visits throughout New England and to my sister's house for a sleep over with her cousins. We had a nice visit with my sister and spent a lot of time with my favorite Great-Aunt. But I still couldn't cry. Because we only cry if something is wrong and nothing can be wrong with my Gram. She's fine.
I was relieved to leave after seeing her gain a tiny bit of strength every day. She was able to keep food down a little more every time and was even enjoying some time outdoors.

She's still not 100% better. I'm afraid to wonder if she'll ever get back to 100%. We were in Vermont to celebrate her 70th birthday and I just cannot bear to even consider the facts of her age, illness and recovery rate.

I did finally cry for about a week when I got home. She's not going to die, you know. She's going to get better and live to see many, many more great grandchildren. I have to believe that because when she dies, it's going to be the most horrific experience of my life. And I don't know how I'll survive it.

Fo' Realz

Picture a happy family of 3: a dad, a mom & a 7 1/2 year old child in a grocery store. Mom's attention is at her coupon folder, list and aisles. Dad & child are horseplaying a couple of aisles away - perhaps bickering over $1. Several minutes pass and out of the child's mouth the mother hears: "You mess with the bull, you get the horns."

Yes. That's my life; my family. Jealous?