It Will Be My Fault

Sometimes while Ben and I are driving around we unleash our inner rocker and listen to hair bands of the 80's on 94.9, or classic rock on 103.5 and we talk about how cool some music used to be. We also comment about the music that our parents listened to while we were growing up. Ben's growing up years consisted of 60's Doo Wop and mine was riddled with ABBA and Elton John (before he got the "Sir" before his name). Every time I hear ABBA or Elton I am taken back to road trips in the wood-paneled family minivan and I can't help but turn up the radio, sing along, and remember the more carefree days. I would consider my secret like for both ABBA and Elton John as guilty pleasures and my also parents' fault.

Times have shifted and Ben and I talk about what music we will tell our kids is "cool." As parents, we will play the radio trump card for quite a few years as we road trip and shuttle to and from lessons and school. With the recent emergence of Guitar Hero III for the Wii, we have decided that 70's rock, 80's metal, and early 90's hair bands will be where it's at for our kids. I apoligize to them now but they will thank us later. I am sure that other forms of music, such as the Beatles, U2, and Chicago, will be part of the repertoire. And it will be my fault when my kids are 18, driving along with their friends, and suffer ridicule as they sing the lyrics to "Cherry Cherry" by Neil Diamond.

Mom to the Rescue

Blogging has its benefits. Last week after reading my rant about the Girl Scouts, Natalie instant messaged me a link indicating which grocery stores have Girl Scouts posted in front selling cookies. Work, errands, and writing four checks at Macy's kept me from making my way to Harmon's to buy any cookies and I was left somewhat disgruntled.

Well Saturday morning my phone rang and it was my mom informing me that she had purchased Samoas,Tagalongs, and Thin Mints just for me. YAY! Moms know how to make it better. She even delivered them to my house. She, Ben, and I each had a Samoa in celebration of the over-priced once-a-year goodness. Thanks mom!

A Taxing Experience

I went to Macy's last night to buy a couple of maternity-wear items. Actually I did that instead of hitting up the Girl Scouts at Harmon’s, which I plan to do tomorrow when I have some time. Anyway, my mom correctly put it when she once said, “Buying maternity clothes is like buying a swimming suit.” If it looks mostly ok, you buy it and then never look in the mirror again.

I picked out two t-shirts to wear to the gym and then found a really cute black ¾-sleeve sweater that would work with anything. A wardrobe staple, if you will. I decided I would get that too. I got to the counter to pay and the old lady—and I mean old as the hills—saw me walk up as she was walking away. Instead of turning around to help me, she just kept walking away.

My advice here is don't walk away from a pregnant lady. Just don't even do anything she doesn't like.

I stood there for five minutes, which is pretty lengthy when you are waiting to pay and there's NOBODY ELSE IN LINE.

Another customer came out of the dressing room and said, "Oh she went to get a drink of water. She’s been working really hard." Growing ever grumpier, I wanted to say, "Well she could have rung me up when she saw me." It’s not like there was a line of ravenous Macy’s customers behind me. The baby factory right here works hard too—ring me up!

So Grandma Macy’s shuffled her way back. Did I mention that she is as old as the hills? I think Macy’s can’t hire anybody younger than 70. FINALLY, she started ringing me up and decided to tell me the price of each item as she rung it up. "And this one is $10.99. And this one...oh this is cute...what a cute color...when are you due? This one is $14.99."

Get on with it.

Then she gave me a total and I had to write a check, which I am basically against but that’s another long story. I was thisclose to being done with the check and she said, “Oh woops, dear me. I am sorry honey. Forgive me." Stop asking for forgiveness and tell me the problem!

She gave me the total before tax.

I voided the check and started writing check number two when she said, "Darn this thing, I can't get it off." She couldn't get the freaking sensor off the cute black sweater and then said, "Is there another one over there?" Yeah because maternity clothes are NEVER picked over. There are always TONS of sizes to go around. NO THERE'S NOT ANOTHER ONE!

Grandma then informed me, "Well I can take it down to security and have them take it off." Yes, because that’ll take so long I’ll just end up having my baby on the second floor of Macy’s. It took her nine years just to get a drink of water, I can only imagine the time necessary to get a sensor off a sweater. So I said, "Can you just take it off the sale?" And surprisingly that didn't phase her and she was able to do that lickedy split.

She gave me the total and I began with...you guessed it...check number three when she suddenly said, “Woops! Raspberries. Dear me. Honey, I did it again. That is the total before tax."

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Seriously, my hormonal blood was boiling at this point. Any non-pregnant day of the week probably would have been ok but I just can't take it. I have ZERO patience.

Begin check number four.

When I was done and handed it to her she said, "When are you due again? Gosh you are so pretty. Look at those eyes." And I just thought, “Listen up grandma, I haven't the patience nor the time to let you try to make me feel better." And so I just said thank you and almost ran out of the store.

And then I cried when I got in the car. Because no good drama in my life right now doesn't end without tears.

*I don't dislike old people and I really appreciate compliments, especially when pregnant, but mood swings are inevitable at this point and some things are too much to handle.

Damn You, Girl Scouts!

As a general rule in the past, I have steered clear of the Girl Scout cookies. Tendencies to pull a “Cookie Monster” and start eating them like crazy with crumbs flying around are the reason I have foregone the Tagalongs, Samoas, and Thin Mints in recent years. When confronted to purchase at the entrance to Albertson’s, I politely said no. When offered a cookie by a co-worker who did purchase, I declined. When I saw the Girl Scout Cookie ice cream at the store, I purchased fat free sorbet instead.

This year, however, is different. I find myself with another life inside of me and apparently a whole new outlook on what I am willing to shove into my face. Not having any co-workers with girls in the ranks this year, I was never solicited to purchase; therefore, in my ignorance, missed Cookie Purchasing Season.

Last week Ben casually mentioned that he had ordered a box of Tagalongs and a box of Thin Mints from somebody’s daughter at work. YAY! I love a man that can bring home the cookies. In the next breath he says, “But she marked me down for two boxes of Trefoils instead.” What the hell? Not only will I not be getting any Samoas, Tagalongs, or Thin Mints this year but she brought him the crappiest Girl Scout Cookie there is. Shortbread? Who would eat shortbread when there was coconut, caramel, chocolate or possibly peanut butter in the mix? He gave them away at work because neither of us would waste our time eating them.

Needless to say this Girl Scout Cookie drought is not treating me or my pregnant hormonal rage very well.

Spring Breaker Top 10

I never went further than the Claridge Inn on Bluff Street in St. George for Spring Break when I was in college. Cozy trips in the car with three other girls was the only way I knew how to party. It saved money and chastity. Never even having MTV until I moved out of my parents' house, I didn't know how Spring Breakers really partied. I guess Cafe Rio and shopping trips to DownEast Outfitters at the St. George outlets isn't really worthy of Carson Daly's coverage.

Prior to getting married and since marriage, Ben and I have managed to take some pretty sweet vacations, knowing full well, that once kids arrive it will be camping and sitting around at my grandma's cabin in Kamas.

As previous posts indicate, this trip to Cancun was no exception. I can't say enough times how great an all-inclusive resort is but little did I know that it comes with Spring Breakers, more alcohol than Vegas, and our resort's very own Spring Break party sponsored by American Eagle. I'm not kidding.

Apparently, Cancun is heralded as Mexico's "Sin City" and is marketed that way to kids planning a vacation for Spring Break. (My internet research also shows that AE hosts Spring Break parties in Lake Tahoe; Padre Island, Texas; and the Grand Canyon where one can participate in invasive plant removal. I am sure these kids will participate in something invasive but it won't involve plant removal.) We were there at the beginning of the festivities so I can only imagine what will happen in the coming weeks.

Sometimes I felt like I was in a low-budget teen movie. But I played a minor role as the woman, great with child, and great with yards of maternity swimming suit fabric, who sat in the shade and chortled snide observations to her husband--all the while, cooking up a post for her blog. So without further ado, I give you my Top Ten Differences Between Me and the Spring Break Chicks.

10. I know who slept next to me every night of the trip.
9. I slept in the same bed every night of the trip.
8. I remember every night of the trip.
7. I never had to watch my dinner in reverse.
6. I won my Mardi Gras beads by participating in the water aerobics class, rather than by conventional methods.
5. My beer gut is traditionally called a baby.
4. Student loans did not pay for my vacation.
3. I got heckled as a woman golf cart driver!
2. I am knocked up but I know who the father is.
1. Even though the father of my child knows we’re “in trouble,” he’s sticking around.

What About Me Says Tacky?

Aside from the hair braids with beads that one can acquire while sitting on the beach, Cancun’s other offering to the Gods of Tacky was this shirt.

If there really were fashion police, this woman would be in a Mexican prison. The fact that the belly button on the shirt is pierced with an actual earring is a fashion faux pas dead ringer. (No pun intended.) Holding her beer while she attempts a picture doesn’t sweeten the deal either.

In Mexico "All-Inclusive" Translates to All Good

Ben and I just spent the last week either swimming at the beach or sitting poolside sipping pina coladas ("sin alcohol") while doing nothing at the Grand Oasis Cancun Resort in Cancun, Mexico. Taking a gamble, we booked through SkyAuction with no other recommendations on where exactly to stay, and we beat the house big time.

Skymiles + All-Inclusive Resort = a seriously great vacation that I would do over and over again and definitely recommend. I felt like we stepped out of reality. No internet access, sketchy cell phone service, Spanish speakers galore, and subtitled movies on the hotel room cable made this a truely unreal reality for me.

This post is not intended to be a travel log but a few highlights included driving a golf cart around an island off the coast of Cancun called Isla Mujeres. Ben let me drive and when the tour guide told me to turn around in a space that was too small for my golf cart, I got heckled by another idiot tourist who decided to call out, "Woman driver." Thank you sir. Don't overlook that I am a pregnant woman driver so get out of my way before my golf cart takes you down at no more than five miles an hour.

Other highlights from that day included snorkeling the second largest coral reef in the world and holding (yes, holding) a nurse shark. I think they feed him wine and turkey and then give him a Benadryl chaser.

Our other day of snorkeling at Xel-Ha, an "interactive Sea World," as I like to call it, brought us swimming six feet over sting rays, HUGE yellow fin tuna, and a parrot fish who thought he could hide under a reef and remain unnoticed. But we got a good look anyway.

Points of interest from our trip include: a trip to the Mexican WalMart, riding the bus for just $1 each to downtown Cancun, the absolute cleanest bathrooms/amenities I have ever seen on a vacation (seriously), and every '08 Spring Breaker in existence. (Watch for a future post regarding the Spring Breakers--it'll be a must-read.)

I can't get over how beautiful the beach and water were and how awesome and hospitable our hotel and staff were. If I didn't have a baby girl to look forward to, I would have had an even harder time leaving.