Alright, ALRIGHT. Here he is.

Dear Diary,

I am posting sonogram images of our baby, because it turns out I totally am that person who does such things.

Baby Windover, 10 weeks:

Baby Windover, 17.5 weeks:

Baby Windover, being all babyish and sucking his thumb:

Exploitashun! I haz it.

Love,
Fluffy

Recent Development

Dear Diary,

It seems that I have become that pregnant person who actually thinks that other people want to see sonogram images of her baby. I've been showing them to people. Like, whether they ask to see them or not. "DO YOU WANT TO SEE THEM???? I HAVE THEM RIGHT HERE CLEVERLY HIDDEN IN THIS JOHN UPDIKE NOVEL IN MY PURSE!!!!!!"

I never thought I would do that. It's a bad road. But did I mention that he is sucking his thumb in one of them??? I mean, COME ON, that is effing cute.

Love,
Already Annoying Braggy Mom Fluffy

Also, this person.

Dear Everyone Again,

Please meet my very dear friend Mrs. Witch-Action. Last summer she left City B to go teach at a university in Scranton, PA, which is also known as THE ELECTRIC CITY. (No, really. They have a big sign saying that and everything, and I'm pretty sure it lights up.) She has started a blog all about it and she is way smart and even snarkier than I am and has great shoes and jewelry and you would never know it but she bakes a great cookie as well. I also caught her singing karaoke once. She and her husband are basically responsible for the BHE and me meeting and marrying each other.

So check out her blog here, http://scrizzy.blogspot.com/, especially if you find yourself in the unfortunate predicament of living in the Lackawana County area.

Ta ta,

Fluffy

P.S. - Wow, it is really unlike me to devote an entire post to someone else. So let's get the focus back to me, ASAP.

We had a sonogram yesterday and found out we are having a boy. And he was sucking his thumb, which was kind of cute. I am very happy; it's not that I didn't want boy, it's just that I feared raising a mama's boy. But I'm sure I will, so I might as well just get over it now and accept the fact that I'll be ironing his underwear when he's 30 and silently (or not silently) judging every girl he ever brings home.

It's Monday! ZOMG!

Dear Everyone,

Please allow me to introduce my sister, Sister B. She has started a blog and you can read it here. (Don't worry, I will work with her on the exclamation point problem. I suppose when you have four children your entire life happens in exclamation points? I'm thinking maybe!!!)

Also! This weekend the BHE ran over the cable with the lawnmower. (I know, he really shouldn't have been mowing the living room.) But anyway, he is devastated about the temporary loss in cable. I think because of all the baseball. I couldn't care less, now that the Real Housewives of NYC is over. I'm hopeful that Bethenny will find her way onto another reality show so that she can dump a whole bucket of crazy into my living room again soon.

And in addition! Our kitchen should be finished today, which is great because we're almost out of plastic forks and I am down to my last Stouffer's tv dinner.

Love,
Fluffy

Note to self: HIDE BRUISES

Dear Diary,

So I'm up at 5 AM, worrying about my mother-in-law. Not her health; no no, I assure you she is healthier than you or I could ever aspire to be. But we have invited her to come stay with us for Mother's Day weekend. Stay. At our house. Like, overnight.

My mother-in-law is someone who is... observant. No defect gets by her. ("You know you could just retile that and it would look great. Did you notice that the paint in the bottom of your toilet bowl is wearing off? Goodness, how did you get that bruise? (Grabbing my hand) Oh Fluffy, are you still biting your nails? My, you look thin: Fluffy, have you been cooking healthy food for him? Don't you worry about those curtains catching on fire? I think the tin foil goes shiny side down, dear.") Whereas my mother comes into my house and says, "Oh, I just love your adorable house! Love love love, wonderful wonderful beautiful! This is just cheap Ikea crap? NO WAY." my MIL points out the age and decay and what we should be doing about it.

So, yeah. Not the most stress-free houseguest. I'm up at 5 AM because I'm running through the list of things I must do before she can set foot in this house. The list ain't short, and includes things like buying a deadbolt for the basement door so she can't go down there and "observe" all the water damage. The BHE does not get worked up about this at all; I suppose after a lifetime of hearing her helpful hints and suggestions he just ignores them.

Is it universal, to feel the need to impress upon one's mother-in-law the fact that one is actually doing just fine and taking good care of one's husband and able to entertain like an adult and no, she did not get that bruise from falling down in a bar? Perhaps I am more sensitive to this because, being the WAY youngest of four I found the need to prove myself grown-up and mature so everyone would finally stop thinking of me as the baby. But the BHE is the youngest too and doesn't have that problem.

i can has therapeez? kthx.

Love,
Fluffy

Thai = FAIL

Dear Diary,

To say that I was emotionally unprepared to learn that the thai restaurant is closed on Mondays would be an understatement.

To say that I was emotionally unprepared to learn that the other thai restaurant is also closed on Mondays would be a gross understatement.

Love,
Fluffy

Really?

I am a Violet What Flower Are You?

The description is somewhat accurate, I guess. But I like violets, in fact I love violets, so I'll take it.

Love,

Fluffy

Maybe there is a vaccine for that, the buzz.

Dear Diary,

I went ahead and ordered the Vampire Weekend CD. I am only human after all, and not immune to the buzz. Also I saw them on David Letterman one night while fighting pregnancy nausea and I remember thinking, "I could dance to that song, if I wasn't about to throw up and everything."

So I sneaked it into my most recent Amazon order. (Other items included Arrested Development DVDs for the BHE and the Miss Manners' Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior for me. Mustn't forget my manners just because I feel like crap all the time, after all.)

Anyway, I am somewhat disappointed. It is charming and catchy, yes. Madras and other preppy refs pop up in the lyrics, another plus. But I'm just not sure if it offers enough to become a frequent listen. Time will tell, but I'm guessing it will languish along with the rest of the disappointing debut albums in our collection (Clap Your Hands Say Yeah immediately comes to mind... I could list a hundred albums I thought I would love that were instead bitterly disappointing. Another day, perhaps.)

No point here, really. Except that a current non-disappointing musical obsession of mine is Liam Finn. And if you'd like a little insight into my marriage, when I asked the BHE if he would buy me the CD he said, and I quote, "Order your own hippie indie rock, lady."

Love,
Fluffy