Phew! My Baby Is Not Actually a Large Chipmunk

During our last specialist appointments, we found out our 5 pound and 6 ounce baby grew to 6 pounds and 10 ounces in about 3 weeks. At the last visit, she last measured 7 pounds and 13 ounces.

Technician and Doctor: Wow, that’s a big baby!

Me: That’s what everyone says. Soooo…when do we start considering a C-section as the only option? How big is she going to get? 10 pounds? 15?

Doctor: I think you’re looking at an 8- or 8.5-pound baby.

Sooooo…basically…since most babies are 7.5-8.5 pounds, I panicked for nothing.* Thanks. Thanks a lot.

*Except for her massive head. The 93rd percentile, people.

Baby Scout made her debut at 8 pounds 6 ounces and 21 inches long. Imagine if she had showed up on her due date. Imagine if she’d been late. :: shudder::

The other comment we constantly heard was “Look at those cheeks!”

I do love her cheeks.

Don’t you love how her little elbow chub looks like a butt in this picture? Or is that something only a mother could love?

“I have two butts.”

Scout’s cheeks were chipmunk-esque in utero. Obviously, she was practicing trying to take in as much Pop-Tarty goodness as possible.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I had no idea Ozzy was a boxer.”—BluzDude

This Is How My Dog Learned to Eat Shoes

Remember back at the beginning of pregnancy when I complained about constantly having to buy bigger bras?

Yeaaaaaah…I had to do that again. But that’s not what this post is about.

The last couple weeks of pregnancy those troubles traveled south. Way south…to my feet.

As in my feet were swollen, not that my boobs were so huge that they touched the floor.

One day I walked around the office in little black bootie/ballet socks and praying that no one would realize I wasn’t wearing shoes. After that, I stole Kiefer’s PF Flyers and wore those to work. Since they’re all black, no one noticed I was wearing sneakers.

My ankles were nearly nonexistent, and every pair of shoes I owned (including the new bigger and wider ones I just bought) were pinching my feet.

I cursed myself for giving Ozzy the most recent shoe box so I couldn’t return the new shoes.

Everyone always posts pictures of cats and boxes, but no one posts about dogs and boxes. In case you were wondering what dogs do with boxes, let me put your mind at rest.

Step 1. Inspect the box for any strange odors.

Step 2. Determine if the box contained food…or is food.

Step 3. Taunt the cat with the new toy box.

Step 4. Determine if the box is indestructible.

Step 5. Destroy the box…but look cute while doing it.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “My life with a newborn was very similar. We put our daughter in the crib the first night and then told her how to work the TV remote and to help herself to anything in the fridge if she woke before us. We were very surprised when she was up….15 minutes later.”—The Waiting

Monday Movie Menagerie: This Post May Save Your Life

Lately, I’ve been watching a lot of movies. I’ve also been falling asleep during a lot of movies, which has made writing a Movies Teach Us post difficult.

Here are the bits and pieces of what I’ve learned from the movies I’ve watched over the past month. Feel free to add your own lessons learned.

Hansel and Gretel

• Never walk into a house made of candy.

Don’t go in. The candy isn’t worth it.

• If you’re going to kill a witch, set her on fire.
• Gretel’s a biter.

Red Dawn

• When stealing supplies, remember the bucket of soda.
• Living Call of Duty isn’t as much fun as playing it.

The Hangover Part 3

• You don’t have to have friends to play Word with Friends.
• Giraffes and bridges don’t mix.

Pretty Woman

• Your arm from your wrist to your elbow is the same size as your foot. (I checked this on myself. It’s true.)

I saved this Wrong Turn 4 for last because…well…I’m not really sure what I was thinking when I watched it. Has any movie that’s made it to #4 ever actually been good?

It did, however, provide a lesson that I’m sure all of us will use some day.

Wrong Turn 4

• When inbred cannibals are killing and eating you and your friends, don’t lock them up. Just kill them. It is not the time to pull the “We can’t kill them. We’re not like them” holier-than-thou stance. They will escape and eat you.

Want a Pet? Go to IKEA

A month or so ago, Radley’s mom got him a cell phone.

Almost all of our text exchanges involve him sending me pictures. Pictures of desserts, cats, and dogs.

Over the weekend, Kiefer took Boo and Radley to IKEA. A couple hours later, Radley texted me a picture of a cat and said, “Named Phoebe.”

Apparently, IKEA sells cats now.

These cats come free with the shelves.

*IKEA does not sell cats. But IKEA is guaranteed to make your kids so grumpy that you’ll agree to swing by PetSmart on your way home just to put everyone in a better mood.

Thoughtsy: Awwww….

Radley: Dad said we should get her.

Apparently, IKEA will also make your cat-hating husband (who’s only just begun to love your current cat) think adopting another cat is a good idea.

Thoughtsy: I don’t believe you.

Radley: He did. She doesn’t mind dogs and would love another cat around.

Thoughtsy: I’m not sure Esme Kitty would feel the same way.

When Kiefer and my stepsons arrived home, Radley came in first and said, “Wait here. They’re bringing you a surprise.”

Surely IKEA wasn’t bad enough to make Kiefer forget that he’s allergic to cats, that he only recently built up a tolerance to Esme, that the boys barely take care of Ozzy and Esme as it is, and that…oh right…we have a baby arriving in 2.5 weeks!

Boo: We picked you up some orange slices.

Thoughtsy: Thanks! No cat?

Kiefer: No cat.

So, no, IKEA isn’t that bad. But Kiefer also didn’t actually buy anything that needed assembly. If so, we might have ended up with another cat…or two.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Laying down with your feet up….isn’t that maybe how you got yourself into the pregnancy predicament to begin with?”—SandyLand

I Got a Black Eye…From My Cat

The other morning Ozzy and I got up while it was still dark outside. Actually…it’s always dark when Ozzy and I get up.

I opened the door to let Ozzy outside. Instead of his usual mad dash for squirrels, he took one step and then froze (not literally) in the doorway.

Open the door! The squirrels are getting away!

He looked at me, and I swear he said, “I don’t have to pee that bad. I can hold it.”

Esme Kitty saw his hesitation as her chance, and she dashed out while meow-yelling, “YOU CAN NEVER TAKE…MY FREEDOM!”

I let go of the door and reached down to grab Esme. Unfortunately, that lined up my eye with the door handle. SMACK!

The next 5 seconds went like this:

Thoughtsy: Power through the pain! Must…get…black cat…before the darkness swallows her up whole.

Ozzy Pups: THE CAT IS ESCAPING! ::he starts to chase Esme::

Thoughtsy: Screw the cat. She has fur for a reason. Ozzy will herd her home anyways.

Ozzy Pups: ::after 5 steps::  Screw the cat. It’s even too cold for chasing.

Thoughtsy: I will never forgive myself if Esme turns into a catsicle. ::walks outside::

Esme: Freedom is cold. So very cold.

And that’s when Esme ran back to the door and started pawing at it to be let in. Ozzy followed.

Esme: This coat is now mine. Get another.

Once back inside, my adrenaline rush was over. My head raced:

• I’m gonna have a black eye.
• Do I put steak on it or frozen peas?
• What if I have a concussion? I shouldn’t go to sleep.
• WHAT IF I DON’T EVEN HAVE AN EYE ANYMORE?!?!?!

The good news is I still have a fully functioning eye. The bad news is it looks like I’ve applied blue and purple eyeshadow to only one eye. I can’t wait it turns green.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “Ok, I’ll admit it…..I took the baby out for key lime pie martinis. What? I’ve been waiting for you FOREVER. At least somebody in your family still knows how to have some fun!”—Misty’s Laws