Please pray the crazy off of me

I have become completely neurotic (or maybe I was already neurotic, and it's just getting worse). Last night I had a twenty minute conversation with my friend Brooke wherein I fretted over whether or not I would have things like shampoo for my son. (Really? Shampoo? Really.)

While in dream land, I managed to dream that I was still breast feeding Silas at the age of two (um, and he had a mouth full of teeth). While I appreciate my sub-conscious' faith in my having the dedication to breastfeed that long (I'm still debating whether or not to continue when I go back to work at 8 weeks), all I did during the entire ordeal was worry that he would bite me, and be completely disgusted that I was breastfeeding a toddler.

Today I saw an Atmos (gas company) bill on a co-worker's desk, and that triggered in my mind that I have to set up and switch over all utilities to my new house. That reminded me that I still have to pack and buy furniture and unpack, and I started breathing funny and almost passed out.

I'm not sure why I thought moving and having a baby all in the same month was a good idea, but I was adamant that it be done this way. So, if I end up in the loony bin, I suppose I'll have no one to blame but myself.

I was entertained, and I thought you should be too

There is a weekly conference call that I am forced to listen to every Wednesday. On the call, there is a certain attorney who annoys me because he talks a lot. He sounds very much like he has a retainer full of saliva in his mouth, and his questions go mostly ignored.

Well, today, he was particularly annoying, and so he became the topic of my e-mail chat with my co-worker Emma. She decided to e-stalk him (we e-stalk other firms' attorneys a lot). When she pulled up his profile picture on his firm's website, she declared him to have a "pig-like quality" and said she envisioned him snorting a lot. That sent me into fits of laughter. Then she said it several more times to other co-workers while I was on speaker phone with her. Every time she said it, I would double over (well, I would have if I could still bend at the waist) in laughter and stay that way until she would say it again and start me laughing all over again.

Now, I realize that this story is not nearly as funny without the picture. However, I refuse to put the poor man's pic up on my blog after spending 30 minutes of my morning laughing at him (really, how do I bill for that?). So, if you really want to see it, send me an email, and I will let you in on the joke!

Are you ready for some football????

Sadly, my love affair with football did not start as early as the adorable toddler above (that's Jailyn, my step-daughter.....in the Romo jersey her daddy bought her.......this was last season prior to all hope being extinguished, but I digress).

My parents apparently were not aware of the joys of the Sunday tradition of drinking beer and yelling at the television. Both born in the south, but somehow no one indoctrinated them. So, I discovered football in high school. My two best friends (Christen and Candice) and I would sneak into the field house (well, not really sneak so much as just walk into the foul-smelling, run down, concrete building) to decorate the players' lockers prior to the first game of the season.

We'd spend Wednesday afternoon cheer practices (or was it Thursdays? I don't really remember) decorating the run-through. Friday nights rolled around and we'd pile onto a bus and drive to whatever town had been randomly selected and cheer our hearts out while watching our beloved McClellan Lions get the daylights beat out of them. Our football teams always sucked (I can use one hand to count the number of games we won during my entire high school tenure), but who cares? It was football! The majority of my life from preseason to play-offs revolved around cheerleading and football.

Now that I am a little older (and my cheerleading uniform looks like it's better suited to fit Jailyn than me), I have discovered the only way I know to keep that standing-on-the-sidelines-yelling-at-the-top-of-your-lungs-for-the-running-back-to-get-in-the-end-zone feeling alive every fall.........NFL football. The first pre-season Cowboys game is in two days, and I still feel the same butterflies I did when I stood on the red clay track in my red and white mini-skirt and implored the crowed to get loud for those Lions.

The fact that my little boy is arriving just in time for me to put a jersey on him and teach him all about the joy of victory and the agony of defeat (oh and allow me to participate in the beer drinking part of the Sunday tradition) just confirms for me that being a parent is going to be serious fun.

Adios apartment living!

Today I waddle with my head held high. As of this morning, the search for a house has ceased, and I will (please, dear God) never have to live in an apartment again (well, except for the next two weeks while I pack all of our things). Michael, myself, Heidi, Penny, and (very soon!) Silas (and of course Ms. Jailyn on the weekends) will be living in the house depicted above.

Now, all I need is several volunteers to pack me, buy my furniture, move me, arrange my furniture and unpack me. Any takers? Can I guilt you by telling you how huge and pregnant I am? No? Okay, fine. Just buy me a round of shots to celebrate the house and the baby (yes, yes after the baby gets here).

Could you people please channel your inner Jeff Gordon?

I know that every person in every city on the planet thinks the traffic in their city is the worst, and we all whine and moan about how awful it is to drive to work. So, I don't mean to be dramatic about this, but I must put a serious bid in for Dallas' traffic to at least be in the top five. My chief complaint is that the traffic here makes no sense.

It is rare that I am stuck stock still on the freeway for an hour and a half because there is a wreck or a stalled car or a thousand jars of mayo smashed to pieces on the freeway. As a matter of fact, when there is an actual reason for the traffic here, I am completely relieved. Because once I get past the wreck/stalled car/mayo disaster, traffic flows freely once more, and my blood pressure begins to return to normal. However, that is almost never the case.

This morning, I came to a complete stop on the freeway no less than 15 times. When I was moving, I was traveling approximately 10 mph. It was like this for 3/4's of my commute. There was no wreck, there was no stalled car, there was no spilled mayo. There was just traffic for no reason.

Dallas has some of the most rude, aggressive drivers I have ever had the pleasure of sharing a road with. (Side note: I was back home driving a friend around after I had lived in TX for a while, and the friend stated, "You drive like a Texan now." I didn't know whether to be ashamed or proud.) So, why all this made up traffic? You bunch of angry southerners have no problem cutting me off doing 110 when I have nowhere to be. How about a little bit of that NASCAR spirit on a Monday morning?

Let's talk about my husband for a minute.....

The photo above is of the diaper bag I have coveted since I learned I was having a boy. It is gorgeous. It makes me drool. That particular diaper bag is now sitting in it's pretty pink and brown Juicy Couture bag on top of a box containing all of my son's bedding smack in the middle of my living room (it's a one bedroom apartment, and we are trying desperately to move, so don't judge!). What I'm trying to say is, I now own that bag. The picture of the bag was taken with the new iPhone that was tucked into a pocket of the bag. It's not my birthday. It's not Christmas. It's not even president's day. It was just a Tuesday, and my husband just wanted to make me smile.

He enjoys spoiling people. He loves to do something extravagant just for the sheer pleasure of watching my (or any number of other people's) face light up. While this is reason enough to love him (and I love him beyond words), I have many other reasons.

Every morning while he's getting dressed for work, I lay in bed and wrestle with the dogs, and it never fails that we find something to laugh about. We are only together for a few moments in the morning, but it is one of my favorite times.

Some evenings, I'll be laying on the couch (yep, I do a lot of laying) with my legs draped over his. I'll be watching TV, and he'll look over and with all the sincerity in the world say something like, "You're so beautiful. I mean, super model beautiful." He did that not more than two weeks ago (please note, I was 7 months pregnant and weighed more than 200 pounds when the statement was made, which is why it is such a big deal to me).

He tucks me in every night (without fail....even if he comes home after I'm already asleep) and kisses me and then kisses my belly. He gets down in the floor and plays barbies with his daughter. He puts gas in my car to keep me from having to stop (even though it annoys him no end when I let myself run out). He hears songs he knows I like and puts them on my iPod for me. He says "everything will be ok" and then does everything in his power to make sure it is.

He has his faults, and we've had our rocky (full-on gravel pit) moments, but he is my Mr. Right. He makes me want to be a better person. I love him more every time I see him smile or hear his voice or think about some silly thing he's said. If there is such a thing as a soul mate, he is mine.

Dream a little dream

Sleep has become difficult, to say the least. When my head hits the pillow, my mind kicks into overdrive thinking about how little time I have left until Silas is born and how much I have to do. Once I manage to drift off, my bladder wakes me no less than 3 times. In those few, short snatches of sleep I do manage to get, I dream the most ridiculous things.

Last night I dreamed that I took Silas out of my womb to change his diaper. He was still attached to his umbilical cord, and he was all floaty (like he was in water). Once I finished diapering him, I put him back. (I can tell you he was very cute.) Can someone please psycho-analyze that for me?