Hi, This Is Your Friend Ob Gin Calling

Keeping a pregnancy a secret is hard. It’s especially hard  for me keeping it a secret from the two boys you live with.

You hide ultrasounds, you start paying the kids to empty the kitty litter, and you have to explain why you’re suddenly sleeping all the time and don’t feel like ice cream.

Radley kept stumbling upon baby clues. Only he was too young (10) to put it all together.

Radley: This is the second night in a row you haven’t eaten a salad for dinner. Are you feeling ok?

Radley: Did you get McDonalds? You don’t eat fast food.

And then, there was the phone call from my friend: Ob Gin.

My phone rang, Radley grabbed it, looked at it, and as he handed it over, says…

Radley: It’s Ob Gin.

Thoughtsy: Who?

Radley: Ob Gin.

Thoughtsy: ::blank stare::

Radley: ::shrug::

You look down at your phone and read “ObGyn,” and realize maybe it’s time to tell let them in on the secret.

Once I hit 12 weeks, Kiefer and I sat the boys down to tell them. Since we’re all fans of How I Met Your Mother, we contemplated just giving them each a baby sock (Awwww…sock!) and letting them figure it out. Plus…that’s how I told Kiefer.

Instead, we opted for a more mature and responsible approach.

Kiefer: Thoughtsy and I have something to tell you.

Radley: I think I know what it is.

Kiefer: What?

Radley: We’re getting a puppy. (He overheard a conversation about The Hipster getting him a pug. Oops.)

Kiefer: No. Thoughtsy is pregnant. You’re going to have a little brother or sister!

Boo: Wow!

Radley: You two have been naughty.

Boo: Is it a boy or a girl?

Kiefer: We don’t know yet.

Radley: Hey Dad, when the baby is my age, you’ll be 50.

Kiefer: I know….

Radley: I mean 51.

Kiefer: Please stop talking.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I know this is meant to be all about the baby… But… WHAT THE HELL ESME?! Two muffins? Don’t you know mama needs her strength?”—AndTodayFolks

Freshly Pegged: Wolves Are the New Lap Dogs

Haaaaaave you met Peg? I blog crush on her and her Reese’s Cups. (No, that’s not an euphemism.)

Have you heard about Peg’s series Freshly Pegged? That’s where I am today. Because you know who deserves to be Freshly Pegged?

Someone who laughs in the face of danger.

Someone who walks straight into a wolf’s den and says, “I’m not afraid of you.”

Someone who loves all things furry.

Me.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I once went on a date with a guy that I’m sure had his mother in his freezer at home. He spoke to me with his head tilted to the left and didn’t move his lips when he spoke. During the date I texted my BFF, ‘I know that he wants to wear my boobs for a hat, I do not want to be material for nipple beanies!’ I toughed out the comedy show and made a quick getaway. Thankfully he didn’t know where I live. Dating sucks.”—TrippyBeth

I Am the Blue Wombat

Haaaaaaave you met Tom?

I’ll be over at his blog tomorrow with a Movies Teach Us guest post about how to become a superhero.

I'm the one in blue. Hence the name "The Blue Wombat."

So if the post goes up tomorrow, why am I telling you now?

Because tomorrow…

A. I may be in a cannoli-induced coma.

B. I suspect Esme of tampering with my blog.

C. I don’t trust the automatic post scheduler.

D. It’s impossible for me to stay up past midnight…the post goes live at 12:01.

E. All of the above.

I See Blue People

Tra la la la la la. La la la la la.

I watched The Smurfs. Although I grew up with those little guys, I wasn’t particularly interested in the movie until I saw that Doogie Barney Neil Patrick Harris was in it.

And although I spent most of the movie thinking, “That’s not Barney. I wanna see Barney from How I Met Your Mother,” I still learned a lot.

• Smurfs are 3 apples high. I always thought they were smaller.
• Despite the similar spelling, a lavatory cannot function as a laboratory.
• Smurfs invented frozen pizza.
• Use “smurf” instead of “beep” for expletives. Example: Where in the smurf are we?
• Azrael the cat is a boy.

Most importantly, I finally understand the fascination women have with men in kilts. Gutsy Smurf? He’s my hero.

I'm sexy and I know it.

You Call That a Crab Cake?

Dear States Other Than Maryland,

I live in Maryland. Home of the crab. Crab dip, crab cakes, crab anything—We do it right.

When you order a crab cake in Maryland, this is what you get:

Note that there is more crab than filler.

A dome of chunky crab meat. Mmmmm….

While visiting another state (I won’t point any fingers), I made the mistake of ordering a Maryland crab cake. A mistake that I won’t make ever again.

Because when you order a Maryland crab cake while you’re in another state, you get a freakin’ crabby patty that’s more bread than crab. Seriously? Pathetic….

I should sue you for pain, suffering, disappointment, and other damages. The State of Maryland should sue you for slander or false advertising. Lawyered!

Please take immediate action. On every menu that lists Maryland Crab Cakes, please remove Maryland Crab Cake and replace it with Mediocre Crab Cake or Not-a-Maryland Crab Cake.

Thank you for your prompt attention in this matter.

Very crabby,

Thoughtsy

PS: If you don’t have Old Bay, don’t even bother serving crab. Did you just say, What’s Old Bay? I can’t even look at you right now I’m so upset.