My dear friend Lauren who is like a sister to me, just had her first baby! And guess which moral-free cad they selected to be her godmother? Me, of course. I’m thrilled! Here is the thing about me and babies. I recognize their cuteness, but they kind of scare me. I mean they just need you so much. You can’t forget them somewhere or casually leave them on some shelf somewhere. You have to attach them to your boob and never let go. Scary!
I recognize that I’m pushing 30 and this whole mentality should probably change. Being around Stacey and seeing what an amazing (and fun!) mother she is to Ollie has really helped. She has made me realize that you can still have a life and have kids and be hot. And now that my friend Lauren has knighted me fairy godmother to her first born, I feel like my fear of leaving a baby on a shelf will diminish even more.
I actually love the idea of being a godmother or an aunt more than being a mother. This is probably due to the fact that you can swish in with a present and a kiss and get a lot of love. And also due to the fact that one of my favorite movies is Auntie Mame and well, Rosalind Russell just made being an aunt the most fabulous thing since the high heel. I can’t wait to take little Mairin to the baby spa for a teeny tiny mani pedi, or to the children’s museum to make a mold of her butt in hot wax or something like that. You know, the good stuff!
Thank you Lauren for trusting me to be Mairin’s godmother. I promise to do my very best!
Yesterday, Ollie was in rare rare rare form. Although lately he’s been acting out more and more (hitting people, pushing, scraping other babies’ eyeballs with his fingernails, etc. etc.), I haven’t been too concerned because he’s 19 months and at that age, he’s still too little to understand his actions.
But during a trip to the park yesterday I began to get sincerely worried that his aggressive behavior wasn’t normal. As in PSYCHO. Literally, at a park of 60 kids he zeroed in on the same one and attacked her twice. And when I say “attacked” — I’m not kidding. He got all Hannibal Lecter and mauled the girl’s cute little face with his hands and teeth. After the poor baby’s mother took her away, Ollie found other victims and did the same thing to probably eight children. Ollie doesn’t discriminate: all ages, all races, all genders. Their only common thread is that their mothers want to drop kick him.
Finally, things culminated with him lunging toward another kid on the jungle gym and tackling her down an entire flight of stairs. They were rolling down the steps like you see fight scenes in the movies — although in this scenario the other kid was screaming and Ollie was laughing. When they landed, Ollie tried to bite off her nose. That was the end of our visit to the park. I grabbed my son and left before the police could haul us both away.
On the drive home I was truly worried — almost near tears. At home I even looked up “early signs of sociopath” on the Google, but then began thinking that I was actually the undiagnosed sociopath because as a child I displayed all three of the “Macdonald Triad” behaviors: wetting the bed, cruelty to animals, and obsession with fire. Could I be the insane one?
Putting my own issues aside, I decided to take Ollie to our local nature center just to see how he treated the animals. He loves his grandparents’ dogs, but I knew if I found him trying to squash some hamster with his sneaker, maybe I should worry. But, WHEW. Nothing. He was so loving and sweet with the animals that my fears were allayed. The guinea pig is still alive and kicking.
This November, the Pfarr household is going to have a cooked turkey — and I don’t mean for Thanksgiving dinner. Â I’m pregnant and the baby is due November 20!
How did this happen, you ask? Or maybe you don’t, but I’ll tell you anyway. Well, we got a LOT of snow last month. I mean — a TON. If you don’t live in the DC area, you probably read about all our snow on the news. And really, well, there is only so much you can do when you’re snowed in. By my calculations, you can:
A) have sex
B) drink
C) drink while you’re having sex
And because I wasn’t drinking for Lent (at that point, I later failed with my Lenten promise), Grey and I chose option A. Low and behold a baby was made! It sounds almost Biblical when I put it that way. Like we’re going to deliver Moses II. But seriously, I truly wonder if there were more babies conceived this winter just out of sheer cabin fever. I mean, how many times can you watch Jersey Shore reruns and play Monopoly? Snow Boom 2010!
Anyway, I thought about keeping my fat trap shut as I’m only five weeks along, but being that I can’t keep a secret, of course I’m spilling it before I’m anywhere near out of my first trimester. Yay, baby!
Of course I took several tests...Grey didn't believe the first one because the line was so faint. However, it's a done deal. Baby #2, here we come!
Today is Ollie’s half birthday; he’s 18 months old as of 1:01 AM this morning. This is a big deal for me — I can’t believe that he’s already a year and a half! Tonight Grey and I are going to have a mini-celebration with party hats and a little cake for him.
To explain my note today: this thank you to Ollie is very primitive because I wanted try to make something that he could read now that would convey how thankful I am to have him as my wild-child-baby. I used pictures since he can’t understand written text yet (we think he’s smart but not that smart). I tried to communicate that “Mommy is thankful for Ollie.” Â However, thankful is a hard word to symbolize (I wonder how those Caves of Lascaux people did it 10,000 years ago?), so I thought I’d use the four things that he loves and appreciates more than anything to try to get the point across.
Hopefully Ollie got my intended message and doesn’t think I’m trying to say I’m going to eat his toy trucks or steal his Goldfish. I’m hoping he also recognizes me in the picture because I’m not wearing my glasses and my hair is actually brushed…
Happy Half Birthday, Ollie!
Last year on Ollie's 1/2 birthday (what a different 365 days make!)
I never grew up watching sports, and when I was a cheerleader, it was for basketball. So consequently, I know pretty much nothing about football. And I mean NOTHING. I like rooting for my alma mater, Penn State, because it’s fun to drink beer during the day and I look good in navy blue. I like the Baltimore Ravens because they are my husband’s favorite team; whenever they play we eat chicken wings and he’s always in a great mood.
Grey’s favorite player happens to be Ray Lewis (who, until I looked him up on Wikipedia just now, I thought was quarterback, but Grey says he’s what they call a “linebacker.”). In fact, the first time I ever met my future husband-to-be, he was wearing a grungy purple #52 Ravens football jersey. And since the Ravens are playing in a big game against the Colts, I thought I’d write today’s post in Ray’s honor.
If you do the math, little Ollie could have been conceived during Monday night football — a night when, coincidentally, the Ravens were playing. Call me superstitious, but ever since then, I’ve always felt like I owed Ray Lewis some sort of reproductive thank you. If not for this blog, I might never have voiced my gratitude, but hey, the phrase “too much information” seems to work right about now!
GO RAVENS!
The product of "Purple Passion"
Oysters, chocolate or Viagra? Who needs 'em with Ray?!
I’m not kidding when I say my OB/GYN is a miracle worker. Most people talk about the horrors of childbirth, but not me! Not sure how Dr. M did it, but she managed to make giving birth to Ollie a piece of cake. The odd part is, it shouldn’t have been easy: I was in labor for over 18 hours. But what were we doing the whole time? Crying? Writhing in pain? No way — my whole family was gathered around the bed with a deck of cards and we played a rousing game of “Asshole.”
Even during my c-section I was just laying back on the table as if I was on beach in Hawaii. Apparently Dr. M is also a skilled sorcoress because I felt no pain whatsoever. In fact, after they took Ollie away to be weighed and bathed I lay there chatting with the doctor and nurses about Britney Spears and if they think she had a tummy tuck after her deliveries. Even my five day hospital stay seemed like a vacation (albeit in a hotel with crummy room service, low thread count sheets, and where my travel souvenir is a living child). The entire experience was great.
So this is my advice to women about to give birth: bring a deck of cards and a cooler of beer/wine to the hospital (this makes the entire thing seem more like a party even if you’re not drinking) and get ready for the best day of your life!
We had so much fun on delivery day. I was hooked up to an epidural and Grey was practicing for the pushing. Unfortunately, I had a C-section, but at least he got to cut the cord.
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