"Don't worry, it won't smell like urine and will be tasty too"

Since this blog often focuses on everything poop-related, I found this story to be especially appropriate.

I wonder if the democrats would consider putting a "Sugared Beverage Tax" on this drink if it made it to America? If it is competing with Pepsi and Coke, I don't see why they wouldn't. Not so sure if it will actually have sugar in it, though. If they [the dumb-a-crats] see it as "baaaaddd" for you to drink then they'll definitely make it more expensive for the American public. If so, I have a word of warning to the Indian company making this drink: "Urine trouble if you come to the US"!

Oh yeah, cow dung and urine are often consumed in Hindu rituals. Yes, I said CONSUMED. And you thought that I wasn't interested in being multi-cultural.

How much would someone have to pay you to get you to try this drink?

It's Official: I am THAT lady

I set out this morning with good intentions. Connor, Echo and I went on a walk through the neighborhood around 8:30AM. Then we went to the grocery store about 9:15AM. The day was off to a good start.

And, you won't believe it, but this story gets even better: I actually sat down on Sunday and made a plan for dinner for each night this week. Weird, I know. At this point, I had no reason to suspect that our trip to the grocery store was going to be anything less than the usual adventure: a little bit of independent seek-and-find that quickly gives way to me asking the store employees which isle has what I'm looking for. Lots of fun.

We went into Kroger, and I started finding the random items that we needed. I was probably 80% of the way through my list when Connor started to fuss. He fussed so much that I decided to carry him rather than having him sit in the buggy. He quieted down momentairly as we continued on our mission. Picture this: me frantically pushing the cart (with an empty car seat in it), my list in one hand, and Connor in the other. I quickly found out that he was not done fussing. Ohhhh noooo. I needed to get out of the store. Fast.

As he was bobbing his head back and forth on my shoulder, I scanned the store in desperation and luckily (for me) spotted a Kroger employee. YESSS. All hope was not lost. I could surely ask this nice lady where to find the refrigerated shelled edamame. At this point, it was close to 10AM, Connors usual feeding time, so I was fully aware of the urgency in this situation (as if the crying itself didn't keep me on task). I needed to find those damn beans!

I walked up to this lady (who, for some odd reason, looked terrified by my approach) and asked her where I could find the edamame. She answered and pointed me in the right direction. My boobs are huge right now so it didn't faze me when she kept looking at my chest as we spoke. However, I did manage to glance down at my shirt as I hurried over to the frozen food section and stopped in my tracks when I saw what she must've seen: two very big, not-discreet-at-all, wet spots on my shirt. GREAT. Now I smelled like milk.

At this point I was tempted to - but didn't - expose myself in the middle of the grocery store. I had no shame. None. Zero. Zippo.

Fast-forward about 40 minutes and we're at home. Connor is fed and the world is right again.

Y'know how we've always been told to avoid the grocery store when hungry? After today, I have some even better advice: avoid the grocery store when your BABY is hungry.

And...he IS my child.

It's obvious that this is Dennis' son. I mean, look at his hair color (although I will have you know that red hair must be on BOTH sides of the family for a child to end up with red - er, strawberry blond - hair).

As a kid, I was notorious for my pout. My uncle told me that I stuck my lower lip out so far that if a bird flew by, it would surely poop on my lip. That, fortunately, never happened. But it did make me think twice about pouting. Well, at least when birds were nearby.

Have you ever been pooped on by a bird? It's not fun. Not at all. I think that I've only been pooped on twice. OK, maybe three times, but that is the MAX. And by a bird ONLY...no other animals have dropped their flying-biscuits-of-love on me. I guess birds don't like me. Or maybe their excrement has a magnetic attraction to me. Either way, that magnetism must be waning because I haven't been pooped on in a few years. And, it only happened once on my head and twice on my arm.

Plus, it's completely normal to get pooped on by all types of animals. I'm sure that it's a totally normal occurrence. Books are probably written about it.

ANYWAY, Dennis says that I still make this face when I cry. If I do - - which, I'm NOT admitting to - - then we finally do have proof that he is, in fact, my son. The only other proof that would be considered valid is for us to go outside and see if he has the same luck with birds as I do.

We'll be outside all day long tomorrow.

OH. MY. GOD.

I have to document this because the unimaginable happened last night. And, I am not worried about ginxing our luck because it probably won't happen again for a long time ... so I feel completly comfortable posting it online.

ARE YOU READY FOR THIS?

It's about Connor. And what he did (or didn't do) last night. He slept from the 10pm feeding to the 7am feeding. Did you hear that? At almost 7 wks old, HE SLEPT FROM THE 10PM FEEDING TO THE 7AM FEEDING. Dennis and I woke up several times because we were worried that something was wrong with him. Nope, he was just tired.

It's interesting (or maybe sad), that even though Connor slept really well, his parents didn't. I guess that's parenthood.

Totally Frameable

The pictures that are taken by Marathon Foto at the end of the Peachtree Road Race are always amusing. Usually I don't want to purchase any of the them, but this is SUCH a great photo of Dennis that I may have to give in and get it.

Yup, I need to buy it. It is totally frameable. Frameable and displayable. Maybe on the mantle?

Friday Humor

Everyone is undoubtedly wondering, "when is Krista going to post something political? She is such a genius and I cannot wait to hear (read) what she has to say about the nonsense going on in Washington right now..."

While I have taken a slight hiatus from writing posts about politics, do not fear. I will be back with my expert opinions very soon. FOX News is keeping me on the edge of my seat when I'm feeding Connor every day. Every 3 hours. For at least 30 minutes.

That being said, I received a funny email this morning from my Dad. (Yes, that's why I'm so hilarious - I inherited it from my father.) Hopefully this will tide you over for now.

Here it goes:

A driver is stuck in a traffic jam going into downtown Chicago. Nothing is moving north or south. Suddenly a man knocks on his window. The driver rolls down his window and asks, 'What happened, what's the hold up?'

'Terrorists have kidnapped Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton,Oprah Winfrey, Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid, Rosie O'Donnell, Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton. They are asking for a $10 Million ransom. Otherwise, they are going to douse them with gasoline and set them on fire. We are going from car to car, taking up a collection.'

The driver asks, 'On average, how much is everyone giving?'

'About a gallon'

The more things change, the more they stay the same

Dennis, Connor and I went out for a fancy mexican dinner on Saturday night. I should clarify that because we did go to dinner but we went much earlier than normal. As Dennis says, we went to eat at retirement-home dinner time.

Since we now have to schedule all outings around when Connor has to eat - which is every 3 hours - the timing of everyday activities takes on a new twist. For example, I really wanted to see the movie Hangover this past weekend but the only time that would have worked was 10:45AM. Yes, I said AM. And I was actually considering trying to get Dennis to go with me at that time of day. Not sure that we'd do the regular popcorn routine but maybe the movie theatre would have pancakes? Or cereal?

As you know by now, I am not the best person at accepting and dealing with change. Connor has introduced us to more of the evil "c" word than I could have ever imagined. Good change and hard-to-get-used-to-change.

ANYWAY, back to our trip to the mexican restaurant. Dennis and I walked in with Connor and I asked for a table for two-and-a-half people. As we walked to our booth, I noticed all of the people around us. These were people that I had never seen before. They appeared to be normal but I wasn't entirely convinced. They all had kids and sippy cups and other toys or gadgets that I have yet to learn about. Some had kids that were loud and running around, others had quiet ones. Luckily for us, ours did sleep through dinner so we were able to enjoy our soft tacos and margaritas like we were used to. And, most importantly, I was able to get a styrofoam cup for my... um... water... when we left.

MORAL OF THE STORY: I walked into the restaurant fretting about how much things have changed. But walked out of the restaurant - with my to-go cup in hand - realizing that a lot of things are still the same.

Awesome.

This is Connor in 3 months. Once he can hold his head up, this is a no-brainer for him. Duh.

Impatient

As a married couple, you realize that you (unfortunately) have a bigger impact on your spouse - and your spouses' behaviors - than you may like.

My lack of patience has been noted and has been a topic of many conversations in our household. I'm OK with it. It's nothing new to me. JUST HURRY THINGS UP and we'll all be just fine.

So, on Sunday, I asked Dennis what he put in the microwave. He smiled as he looked at me and said, "my margarita". Apparently, he didn't want to wait for the leftovers from Saturday to defrost because he was in a hurry to have his drink.

Ten points for me because it looks like I'm no longer the only patience-challenged person in this house.

Almost 5 weeks

I love reading Dooce. While she needs to work on her political views, she is a great blogger. So, I must disclose that I am a complete poser as I copy her idea of writing letters to her daughter as she grows up. There, I said it. I'm a POSER. Now let's get back to my posering ways as I write another letter to the little man who stole my heart...

Connor,

These last few weeks have not been without great change.

To being with, your "squeaks" have almost been completely replaced by other forms of baby babble, your smiles are much more frequent and your parents are feeling a little bit more confident about what to do (or what not to do). You've become a pro at breastfeeding, and can now focus on objects and follow them as they move from one side to the other. One of the most fun things that you've done is that you have almost perfected the art of reaching out and grabbing onto the animals and toys that are hanging from your activity mat. "Tummy time" is required since you are constantly trying to strengthen your neck and back muscles. I'd like to say you are no longer a bobble-head... but I can't say that quite yet. But you are getting there. You can hold your neck up very well when you want to.

Connor, you've been out on the town, too! We took you to J. Christophers for breakfast and learned how to get your infant car seat situated at the table. When we were walking in to the restaurant, Dennis and I were discussing whether we put your car seat on the table or in a chair next to us. We were amazed when the waitress showed us that the highchair that they had actually FLIPS OVER to accomodate an infant car seat. Who would've ever imagined such a thing?

On July 4th, we went to watch your dad run the largest 10K in the world - The Peachtree Road Race. I should qualify that last statement in that we didn't really watch him run so much as we waited for him at the end of the race in Piedmont Park. I was excited to take you there because not only were we going to see your dad, but the people watching is phenomenal at this event. My camera was ready because with 55,000 participants, you are bound to see some funny attire or interesting costumes in the spirit of the 4th of July. I did see those people, but for some reason, the only people watching that I did was of one person: you. I couldn't take my eyes off of the sweet little man in front of me in the stroller.

Last but not least, your dad and I are convinced that you are VERY advanced for your age. Just look at your parents, and, I mean, who would expect anything less? You'll easily be running the Peachtree Road Race next year.

I love you.

Love,

Mom