Eyes on the Prize

Generally, parents keep a close watch on their children in order to encourage (or discourage) certain behaviors, especially during the first year or so when there is such a high concentration of developmental milestones. Ted and I are in the middle of one right now with Tessa: the ol' roll-over. For weeks, she's been arching her back and kicking up one of her legs, sure signs that she's getting closer. To speed things along, Ted has laid down next to her with toy after toy, placed just far enough out of reach to entice her to do what needs to be done in order to lay claim. I have slowly rolled her hips to one side to get her used to the sensation, and her Grandma Becky even propped her up on her side with several rolled-up towels and then placed a few brightly colored toys just barely out of arm's reach to see what would happen.

Nothing.

Then Ted brought her into our room this morning after a nice long rest. As we played with her and talked to her, she realized that she was hungry, so she started fussing a bit. Ted promised her that Mama would feed her - "she just has to get ready." As a joke, we put her on her back, yet allowed her to see my then bare boobie. Within ten seconds, that girl just flipped right over!

Let this be a story to us all, that we can do anything as long as we have the right motivation. And as long as that motivation involves good food or an engorged fun bag. Or both.

Sink or Swim

I went swimsuit shopping the other day. Did I just hear a collective, pain-laced groan? I know, I know, but during pool days, I want to get Tessa deeper into the water than just a toe-dip. That requires more of me getting wet than just my hands, feet, and my butt on the side of the pool.

So, as if swimsuit shopping weren't bad enough, I have now realized through experience what makes it worse: nursing. Here's my story.

My sister-in-law told me about a particular store that carries tankinis that have longer tops to cover my striped tummy but that also contain the most important element in any swimsuit I must purchase from here on out: underwire for my floppy boobies. Those of you who have a modest (read: so small it's hard to tell if you're a girl or a boy) rack and want a larger one, be careful what you wish for. I've been "highly developed" since I was about 12, and never did a perk grace their growth. It was like they just came in downward. Strapping them in and lifting them up and keeping the underside from sweating has been the bane of my existence ever since.

Anyhoo, so now that I'm nursing, Sag Bags is my name, and containment is my game. Hence the underwire and Spanx-inspired fit. If I could get a water-friendly corset, I would. There were only two tops in this store (I'm not telling the name for reasons you'll read about later) that fit the bill, and there was so much fabric it couldn't just be balled up in my hand like swimsuits of yore. That's what I'm talking about. I took one to the fitting room, only to discover a quandary I had not yet had to face. How do I do this when the only time I take off my nursing pads is to take a shower? Should I attempt to try on this swimsuit bare-breasted and chance that they would stay dry for one minute? That idea got thrown out real fast when I remembered what these things are capable of, so the pads went into the swimsuit, much to the relief of any future customers, I'm sure.

The top looked as good as it could when there's such a sad mess to work with in the first place. I ended up buying it, but I wasn't going to wear it out of the store, so off it came. I was tying the halter neckline back onto the hanger (I always hang up clothes I try on the same way I found them, which is why I hate bra shopping, too) when I felt the all-too-familiar tingle of milk "coming in." I only had one more pull to make on the strap - did I have time to finish it before I had to cover up my hanging pendulums? Answer: no.

I dropped the top and the hanger as the walls of this particular fitting room got a nice little milk bath. In turning to grab my pads and bra, the stream marked everything along the way, including the bottoms of the suit I had just tried on and the mirror that made me realize how suddenly grateful I am for the option of plastic surgery. I quickly got my bra on while holding those bad boys to my chest, and giggled the entire time. Poor fitting room. Thank goodness I wasn't trying on anything made of silk - that would have made for an embarrassing encounter with the manager. "I don't want this, but I have to buy it because...this piece of clothing just got soaked with my boob juice." As it was, all I had to do was a quick swipe of my shirt sleeve across those swim bottoms and no one could tell what had just transpired. To my knowledge, the store doesn't have a "You Spray, You Pay" policy, but they might want to look into it.

Happy Birthday to ME, and ONLY to me!

It has historically rained on most of my birthdays I can remember, and when it hasn't, I've had to work. But this year, I've been on maternity leave AND the sun came out! The day had "potential" coming out of its ears!

I lived up my morning with some much-needed sleep, some incredible wake-up kissing and part of a Toblerone for breakfast, shortly followed by bacon and mango nectar for lunch. Ted fried up the bacon himself, but only after I stuck out my lower lip and requested it for my birthday. He redeemed himself with its crispy goodness and fabulous gifts later on that night.

After my taste buds calmed down a bit, I thought about what I wanted to do for the day. Well, by golly, I wanted to walk around and get this baby out! So I called my friend Megan to accompany me to Descanso Gardens (she's off-track teaching, kidless, and was lying around in a robe reading about genetic anomalies when I called). I brought my camera and we had a ball. A few years ago, when we lived together, we decided to take a 10-day trip to Hawaii for our birthdays (they're 6 days apart). We had a ball then, too, and we talked about how glad we were that we did that before husbands and pregnancies flew into the mix. She's 10 weeks, and I'm 40+. Here's a shot that brought up the lush memories of that awesome trip:



And here are a few more shots out in the beautiful sunshine:





And a very cool goose. It was not shy, and since I was on a roll with having what I wanted to eat on my birthday, I fantasized about a nice orange glaze all over this rotisseried sucker. Alas, "don't feed (on) the animals".



Now, Ted has tried to put his foot down about my lack of a filter. To that, I say he knew what he was getting into when he knelt in front of me with that ring. So if there's a finger to point anywhere, SWEETIE...

That said, Megan and I couldn't pass up this photo op:



In case the message isn't large enough,



They claim it's the name of a particular owl. But come on - who was inebriated in the taxonomy office that day?

We enjoyed a bit more sunshine on one of the many benches that surround the place and then my mind wandered to that little white and black shop perfectly situated on the corner of the two streets that lead to the Gardens. I asked Megan if her pregnancy was letting her tolerate sugar. She said she could do it (lucky little tramp), so we headed out to indulge ourselves.




Megan told me she's never been into a See's candy shop to just buy a few pieces for herself. WHAT?? It's my godsend! For the past several weeks, I've visited one of these shops right after my OB appointment since it's just down the street and I feel I have to reward myself after peeing all over my hand trying to get that blasted stream inside the cup. Anyhoo, I think I found a convert. What chocolate joys! Thank you, Mary See, for blessing my life over and over again. God has a place reserved at His right hand for you, I'm sure.

Ted had asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday as far as dinner, and I have had serious cravings for Cheesecake Factory's Avocado Eggrolls with that amazing tamarind cashew sauce. It's an appetizer, so I just ordered that so we'd have room for four desserts. The banana cream cheesecake was the decorated one because I felt I should get some nutrition during my indulgent day. The others weren't as good for me.





Thank you to all the friends and family who showed up last minute! With this baby past due, I feel a bit like a ticking time bomb, so Ted's email to the group included a caveat about reserving the right to cancel at the last minute due to bathroom floor flooding and spousal ring-of-fire pain, but this little girl showed her first instance of blind obedience and didn't bother mommy's special day. Now I won't have any problem loving her!

Celebration of Womanhood

I'm not a morning person. I have to force myself to get up between 5 and 5:30am (depending on that day's level of hair cleanliness) so I can catch the train to get to work with a little breathing time before the kids start marching through the door. Therefore, my face remains pretty stoic (and usually unmoisturized - crap! forgot again...) until someone in my first period cracks a joke or I get into entertainment mode.

So imagine my surprise when on my drive down to the train station, I spotted a car with this on the bumper:



Not only did I get a giggle just looking at this new variation on breast cancer awareness, but I kept a smile on my face from then until work started, remembering all the nicknames that my thesaurus-esque husband has just for women's breasts. I've written down a list that is by NO MEANS exclusive. I welcome any additions.

YA-YAS: a close relative to the ta-tas, but with an added component of ability to be "covered up" when overheard making comments. Example:
Man to male friend: And then the global economy is just going to skyrocket!
Male friend: Ya. Ya.
Man: (whispering) Where?

And don't think I didn't giggle (and still do) when the Ya-Ya Sisterhood movie came out. Hello!

HOOTERS: Made popular by that chicken-wing restaurant.

BOCCE BALLS: A new entry, inspired by the woman in this post

MELONS: And all variations on the fruit theme - casabas, cantaloupes, mangos, coconuts, pineapple (hey, I've heard it), peaches, apples, lemons, pears (shape matters), etc.

CANS: The non-recyclable kind. But VERY earth-friendly nonetheless.

CHESTICLES: For those with a particular kind of envy.

HEADLIGHTS: Still trying to figure out where the switch is.

BAZONGAS: Or bajongas. Or bongos.

MAMMARIES: The list wouldn't be complete without the anatomical name. For that matter,

TEATS/UDDERS: Utterly appropriate for nursing days. Also recently heard: "milk machines." I have creative friends.

THE TWINS: Closely related are "the sisters" and "the girls".

JUGS: Usually reserved for a large set, or in reference to a new mom whose milk "just came in" (the letdown reflex), resulting in porn-star boobs.

FRONTS: Ted's personal favorite.

CHI-CHIS: This is really the only foreign language one I know. I like the name, but these aren't the kind I have, unfortunately.

LOVELIES: Nor these.

PILLOWS: This is more my style. Especially lately.

TUNE IN TOKYO: No explanation will be given here.

FUNBAGS: No explanation necessary.

MOSQUITO BITES: All apologies to my small-breasted friends and family. Solution: get pregnant and keep nursing until you die. And...

RACK: You didn't think our blog name was in reference to baked goods, did you? hehehehehehehe

Ladies, be proud of your sets, whatever ya ya got.

Who ARE you?

We are currently in Portland, hanging out with the Westovers (Bestovers, if you're talking to Ted). We've missed their company horribly since they left last November, so our summer vacation time has included shoving them back into our lives. If you don't know them, that's fine. You'll get a glimpse soon enough.

You can always tell a little bit about a child's parents from the children themselves, so it was a shock to me when George (their 6-yr old) made a couple of comments that were quite out of the ordinary, not only for his personality, but for John's (his dad) as well.

The first happened at the "Omsome" OMSI (Oregon Museum of Science and Industry). We had a good half day of playing with all the dinosaurs and those brain teaser puzzles that they put in there just for adults, so when it was time to leave, Christy made us all go potty, including myself. I waited for George to finish, and walked into the bathroom as he was drying his hands. I asked him if everything came out okay, which he answered in the affirmative. He paused, then said "Make sure you don't poop out the baby." I almost laughed heartily until I realized he was serious, so I responded just as seriously, "I'll try not to." He thought about that for a few seconds and asked, "What happens if you do?" I didn't have a ready answer, but without going into too much anatomy that his parents aren't ready for, I said, "It's up there pretty tightly. It's not going anywhere." He seemed satisfied at that, so he left the bathroom while I got a good laugh.




Now, if you know George, you know he's a very tactile child. Anything that has an aesthetic surface, he explores it with his hands, and that includes EG's legs in fishnets, my upper thighs in pantyhose, and anyone dressed in velvet. Many a prediction has been made about the Future George in reference to this character trait, none of which I'll "touch" on here. He also has a fascination with breasts, since he's not used to seeing any in his own house. My first realization with this was when he was sitting on my lap in a restaurant. He looked down my shirt, turned to Christy, and said, "Mom, why does she have a bum on her front?" Tact is not his strong point.

The move to Oregon must have changed this boy, for he is no longer his father's son. I let him climb on my back when we visited Multnomah Falls and when his head got high enough to peer over my shoulder, I was shocked to hear him say, "I don't want to see your bosom" as he slid down my back again.



The MOST tactless thing to come out of this boy's mouth (so far) happened when we were trying to pack 4 adults and 3 children with car seats into the minivan. The car seats had to be shuffled around, but I offered to sit in the back between two of them to ease some of the difficulty, mentioning sarcastically "because I am looking REEEAAAAALLLLLLL SKINNY these days". Quite matter-of-factly, George turned around and said, "No you're not. Look at your tummy."

I'd like to use the excuse that I have "a baby in there", but I'm only barely starting to pooch out, so who am I kidding? Thanks, dude, for helping me see myself in a clearer light. 'Preciate ya.

Rated PG-13, so parents: be warned.

God created a curious thing when he put nipples on the scene. As a science teacher who used to work in a mortuary who has a hefty background in human anatomy and who's just plain naughty (I'll admit), I've seen a fair amount of nipples in my day. And I'm not talking about the kind you can toss in the dishwasher. What I can never get over is how different they all look... but I won't get in to that.

So imagine my surprise when, with all my knowledge-o-nips, I see a grown woman with a pretty nice body lay it all bare on a beach in Cancun when HELLO! the sun has already set. She was with another girl, and the four of us clad folks were mere feet away - no one else on the beach. At the time, I was facing away from her, discussing our plans for the coming week when I saw John get VERY uncomfortable and redder than a boiling lobster. Christy just smiled and let out a giggle or two, and I kept asking what about my plan-making was so funny, but then I turned around to catch a glimpse of the pappetrator and HOLY NIP-FEST, BATMAN! Cover those things up!! What I couldn't get over was that the sun was down already, and there wasn't any bumpin' music going, so there was no reason to take Nelly's advice about what to do when it's

getting "hot in herre" (in fact, it was getting a bit - shall we say - nippy). John's embarrassment didn't disappear for days, which is nothing new, but come on!

Our planning pointed us toward Sisal - a restaurant that came highly recommended by several people around the resort establishment. We made reservations, and then later saw a commercial on TV for it. The commercial showed some really cool salsa dancing going on, and everything was touted as "dinner and Caribbean show", so you can imagine our excitement.

We get there, and they give us great seats. I see a buffet set out behind our table, so I go to check it out. You can always judge a restaurant by its buffet, and this one looked like THE BOMB. At the very least, the dessert bar looked way more incredible than those Froot Loop-covered muffins in the grocery stores. We found out that included with the buffet were any fancy drinks we wanted, so pina coladas and mango daiquiris abounded. Virgin, of course. We were filling up our tanks when the EmCee from hell began the mariachi show. The band was great, but then the Reno Reject came back on and tried to do Elvis and Louis Armstrong impersonations until the dance show began, and we were ready to throw up all the chile relleno we'd just eaten.

At that point I decided to get a taco at their made-to-order taco bar (a far cry from the Fair Oaks Roach Coach fare, but certainly passable). As the dude's filling up my taco shell, the male dancers come out doing some sort of Cuban dance, and they've got the obnoxious sleeves to match. THEN, the chicks came out. The taco dude and I just stopped and stared, and he's SEEN this show who knows how many times. I'll just show you what we saw:

Yeah, I realize it's in the corner of the picture (they were moving REALLY fast!), but it's right where your eye goes, isn't it? You don't even see the obnoxious sleeves in the back - just areola covers with attached tassels. We were absolutely fixated. Here's some more.

They did a ton of numbers, making tons of costume changes - one from each of the main Caribbean countries. We couldn't believe their stamina, nor their lack of clothing. I noticed that with all the crazy fast beats going on, nothing jiggled or shook that they didn't want jiggling or shaking. These girls have just about zero body fat, and they were barely breathing hard. As an added treat, whenever they shook their bon bon, the little faux tail would move aside and we'd see buns - LOTS of buns - that would put a steel factory to shame. We couldn't really get a good shot of it - again, too much fast movement. But you can see some serious gluteal muscles in this next one:

And what can that guy in the lower right hand corner be doing that's more interesting than what's right in front of his face?!? Even the old women (of which there were many) were riveted! I gave Ted all the permission in the world to look. Sometimes a man's wife's rack isn't enough, and I'm completely sensitive to that fact.

On a side note, what's up with "soy milk"? Is there some sort of mammary-laden plant I don't know about? Who does the extraction?