Wednesday, July 29, 2009

I heart SL

Today I went to a Middle Eastern restaurant at 9th and 9th to meet my great friend for a late lunch. As the punk and I were waiting for him, a Clark Kent look-a-like rode up on his bike wearing a white mesh muscle shirt and black spandex shorts. I looked up and smiled a friendly greeting as I started moving the stroller out of his way. As he smiled back, he looked right into my eyes and said,

"For a minute, I thought you were my sister, and I was like, you had ANOTHER baby?"

Pause, while I figure out what to say to that...

Mr. Kent: "He's a cutie."

Me: "Oh, thanks!"

Mr. Kent: "You're cuter than my sister too."

Me: "Well, thanks for that too!"

I love Salt Lake.

Sunday, July 19, 2009


You know how some delusional people think their kid is smarter than all the other kids? Well, those parents can kiss my foot. My baby can recite the entire alphabet! I wonder if it's too early to start filling out college applications...?

Thursday, July 16, 2009


While driving home from lunch today, the punk was unhappy about the length of the ride and the constraints he was forced to bear in his car seat. Usually my magnificent singing voice will entertain him for a while, but when I started singing You Are My Sunshine, he just carried on with his protests. So, I substituted his name for the word sunshine and sang:

You are my Calvin.
My only Calvin.
Oh Calvin, Calvin, la la la la...
You'll never know dear, how much I love you.
Please don't take my Calvin away.

He listened with interest for the duration of the ride. Narcissist.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Thinking Inside The Box

The following statement may shock some of you. I am not a patient person. It's true. Patience is not a virtue; it's a nuisance. So when we decided to take the steps to sell our house and move to Salt Lake to be closer to family, I was immediately ready to get going.

Tangent: When my man and I were dating, it took me several months (translation: years in Mormon world) to decide he was the one I wanted to be with forever. He was, and happens to still be, 7 years my senior, so I didn't want to waste his precious 20s if I wasn't completely sure after 3 dates that he was my soul mate. Fortunately, and contrary to local culture, he wasn't in any hurry to get hitched, and assured me that I didn't have to be sure of our future at that time. After 11 months (translation: years in Mormon world), I came to the conclusion that, despite our rival alma maters, we should tie the knot. The second I made that decision, I wanted a ring on my finger. I wanted a wedding date, a dress, and a gift registry, and I wanted them immediately! Hey blonde, muscular dude: when are you going to officially propose, and are we married yet?

Fast forward 5 1/2 years: It was December. We had celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary in May, and had yet to procreate. We had enjoyed some time as a married couple without kids and traveled to exotic places like Paris, Hawaii, and Provo. Our parents had stopped asking us about having kids 4 years before. It was time. The first month after making the decision, I bought a pregnancy test. With hands shaking and stomach in knots, I wandered the grocery store, sure that every eye was on me... the agitated girl clutching the pink box. I told myself that I was not ready for a positive result, and then plunged into the depths of despair when it was negative. Three impossibly long months later, the plus sign upended our comfortable lives. And then (can you believe this...?) we had to wait 9 months more for the kid to show up!

Back to the present: Three weeks after we listed our house, we received an offer. Unless the buyers back out, we are moving in 10 days. And holy crap, we don't have a new house! We are homeless in 10 days and counting... There's no time to become impatient this time!

P.S. Do you think we should stuff the box with styrofoam peanuts, or will crumpled newspapers do?
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