Hot Diggety Dog

Miss Olive's new favorite word(s) would have to be hot dog.

She has a play grill with a bunch of grill-type food -- hamburgers, corn on the cob, fried chicken -- and her favorite parts by far are the toy hot dogs. In the past few days she's taken to carrying one of them around for chunks of the day, proudly declaring "Hot Dog" as she holds it up to show it to anyone who will listen then takes a big "bite," followed by a drawn out "MMMMmmmmmmmm ... ".

It is, in a word, hilarious.

Yesterday, the Ladybug decided that it would be fun and incredibly silly to dip said plastic hot dog in this Mama's water cup and then "eat" the water off the hot dog - cracking herself up with each and every dip.

She does really, really love to eat actual hot dogs, too. On a bun. No bun. Wrapped in a crescent roll. With cheese. Dipped in ketchup. Whole. Cut into pieces. She's not picky. The girl just loves hot dogs.

As hot dog has become an ever more prominent part of her recent vocabulary, I've started noticing how many things she has decided to be hot dogs ...

Earlier this week we went out to lunch at a Perkins with The Hubby and some of his co-workers. Most people ordered breakfast, and The Hubby's breakfast included sausage links (which Miss Olive has loved since the first time she tasted them).

That day, however, she started pointing to The Hubby's plate and repeating "Hot dog, hot dog, hot dog, hot dog ..." until he gave her a bite and then in between every bite. As with the toy hot dog at home, each bite was followed by a good ol' "MMMmmmm."

Tonight, we went to dinner at Red Lobster. The Hubby ordered a meal that included snowcrab legs, to which The Ladybug again began declaring "Hot dog" over and over.

Apparently anything shaped remotely like a hot dog is now, for sure, nothing other than a hot dog. After explaining it was crab, Miss Olive tried to say crab, tasted it, loved it, and then again reverted to declaring the crab to be hot dog. Oh well.

In addition to noticing all things now labeled hot dog, I've also started realizing that kid shows seem to talk -- or rather, sing -- an awful lot about hot dogs.

Here are just two examples, both of which we've seen in the last couple days ...

1) Mickey Mouse Clubhouse "Hot Dog Dance," which is played at the end of every show:

2) Sesame Street clip of a song about "getting the rhythm of the hot dog" ... sadly I remember watching and dancing to this when I was little:

So, basically, my 15-month-old knows more about and has more of an affinity for hot dogs than most people probably should over a lifetime. Nice.

Oh, People ...

So, as of lunchtime today, it has officially started.

It being the craziness that comes over people - random (weird) strangers - who feel the need to impose themselves and their every thought, opinions and emotion on you simply because you're pregnant and they feel entitled.

Oh how I have missed these freaks of nature. OK - so not really at all. But, they do make for good stories.

So, here, starting with today's encounter, I will share stories of some of my least favorite prego intruders.

The Intruder - The Ladybug and I were out to lunch with my parents, brother and his girlfriend today. While we were browsing the menus, I passed around the most-recent ultrasound images. As my brother passed the pictures my mom's direction, the waitress (who I became increasingly LESS a fan of from this point forward) grabbed them, leaned WAY over the table, started flipping through them, and - in baby talk - declared "Oooooh, what a cute 'wittle' bebe in the belly ... Oh mine are 12 ... this is such a wittle one ..." and so on and so on. Our family sat silent in the awkwardness of the situation. It was weird. Rule #1 - If I don't know you, you don't need to be checking out my ultrasound pics - especially when you snatched the from the hands of my family. You, waitress lady, are nuts.

The Feeler - I worked in an office when I was prego with the Ladybug, and a friend in my office had had a child a few months earlier. While she was pregnant, I observed another co-worker (a lady who on a normal day is very in-your-face) rub, caress and basically fully massage my friend's baby belly on more occasions than I could count. I planned ahead. I prepped my best Karate Kid wax-on, wax-off moves to twart belly-rubbing attempts from her and anyone else making a move. I can excitedly report, I was successful. No one rubbed my baby belly without prior concent, and I liked it that way. Rule #2 - Just because someone is pregnant doesn't mean you can feel them up. If you grab my belly - prego or not - it's highly likely I'm going to grab yours right back.

The Sharer - While prego with the Ladybug, I told my small department that I was pregnant after my first trimester, but I didn't make an broadcast announcement to the entire organization I worked for. Though I was admittedly wearing my looser-fitting tops, I wasn't noticeably showing until about 18-20 weeks. Around my 18th week, a very nosy lady I worked with found out from my manager that I was pregnant. I wasn't ashamed to tell people, or intentionally keeping it a secret, but I had chosen to gradually tell people individually as the right moment came up. She, however, decided she would share my information for me. At totally inappropriate times. In corporate meetings. Though everyone was excited about the news, I was less than enthusiastic about the way they found out. Rule #3 - It's probably a good idea in general not to share any information - good or bad - about someone else's uterus.

The Jerk - Closing in on two years later, the thought of this lady still gets under my skin. At about 8 months pregnant, I was walking down a hallway and heard someone from behind me say, "So, is she pregnant?" I turn and see a lady a barely know, who then - while facing me says, "Oooh, yeah, you ARE pregnant. You're looking pretty puffy." Please note here that she says "puffy" in a slightly disgusted voice, with a crinkled nose, while she draws air circles around her own face with her pointer finger. I look at her with disdain and simply repond with, "Yep - I am pregnant," before walking away. She's lucky she got out alive. Rule #4 - It is always, ALWAYS a very bad idea to critique how a pregnant lady looks. We know we've gained weight. We know we look "huge." We know we look tired. We know we look like we're ready to just have the kid already. We don't need anyone to remind us. Ever.

I ask if you or your friends are committing any of these offenses, please cease and desist. Pregnant women everywhere will be forever thankful.

Oh Morning Sickness, How I HATE You

Dear Morning Sickness -

I know we only have to hang out for a couple months at the beginning of each pregancy, but I have to admit, I'm (no pun intended) sick of you.

You show up whenever you want, always uninvited. You never ask when might be convenient for me ... just so you know, if you did ask, my answer would be "Never!"

You ruin almost my every evening, and today, you have selfishly consumed most of my Saturday - what was before my favorite day of the week. Don't you want a day off? I sure do.

I'm hoping you'll be gone soon, and no offense, but I won't miss you because you're, well, a jerk.

I'm thankful you're a sign that the little one growing quickly in my belly is doing well, but really, I could have done with Post-It saying "Good to Go."

Basically what I'm saying is beat it; hit the road; you're not welcome here; make like a banana and split (eh - banana = gross and ice cream = double gross ... why must you torture me?).

Sincerely Over You,
The Lady You Insist on Pestering with Nausea Day After Day

The Ladybug's Big Announcement

So, I haven't written much lately. Partly because it's summer, and I've been a little busy.

Mostly because I've had something overwhelming my mind that I couldn't get far enough past to write about anything else. And yet, I wasn't ready to write about it yet.

I'll let Miss Olive explain ...

The shirt's a little big, making it a little hard to read, but it says, "This little sweetie is going to be a big sister!"

And there it is. I'm prego once again, and aside form the morning (all-day but who's keeping track) sickness, clumsiness and what I feel is premature baby-brain, things are going great. I'll be 12 weeks this weekend.

Things were rocky at first - I had to take some Progesterone pills to help make the babe's living environment more sustainable, but they seemed to do the trick and the wee one is growing as scheduled.

Miss Olive will be about 20 months when the new addition arrives in February.

Big questions we've had from friends and family so far:

1) How are you feeling? I was sick, then I was great, now I'm sick again. I pretty much feel like I can stomach potatoes, honey or dry roasted peanuts and warm pretzels ... occasionally others things make the list when I get a yearning, but they've been few and far between for the past week. The Hubby has been a saint so far. The other night, after being sick to my stomach for hours, I was finally STARVING - like, I could eat someone's arm if it appealed to me type of starving. But, nothing in our house seemed at all appealing. It all grossed me out beyond belief. The Hubby offered to go to the grocery and grab a container of open and heat mashed potatoes and some dry roasted peanuts. It was nearly 11:30 p.m. when he left the house. Did I mention he's being pretty amazing?

2) Are you going to find out what it is? Well, yes. We're hoping it's a baby. Nuf said.

3) Are you hoping for a boy or a girl? We are honestly indifferent. OK - so the Hubby probably wouldn't mind a boy, but he'd be just as happy with either. The logical side of me says we have a LOT of girl clothes, and it would be nice to get more use out of them, but that's not a good enough reason for me to have a deep desire for a girl. I think either or would be exciting. The Chinese birth calendar says it's going to be a girl. Take that for what you will.

4) What does Olivia think of it? She's clueless. She's a little bit little to grasp the concept of a person living in my belly yet. We've flown the idea out there a few times, but I think she thinks we're telling her crazy nonsense because she quickly ignores it and moves on to something - anything - more important. That said, about five weeks ago, she took a strong interest in playing with/mothering her baby dolls all of the sudden. She carries them like real babies, craddled in her arms. She feeds them bottles. She shushes people if the babies are sleeping. She plops them down on pillows and covers them with blankets so they can nap. It's adorable. Though she doesn't know it yet, I'm pretty positive the Ladybug will be thrilled by and amped up to help care for our new addition.

Yay for a new baby on the way, and yay for finally being about to share our great news with the world. Can't wait to share more and get some great mama feedback as the pregnancy goes on.