You Mean... One's Not Enough?!

Why do people keep asking me if I'm having twins?

I am 27 weeks pregnant, and this question actually seems to be the most annoying (although, there are some great contenders for the title). It's almost like all of this... the morning sickness, the swollen belly, the achy back, the sleepless nights, the forsaking of alcohol and caffeine and sushi... is all for naught. It's just not as exciting if I'm not doing it for twins. I'm supposedly not working as hard or for something as precious as two babies. What? You only have one? Because Angelina and Rebecca and Marcia and every other female celebrity over 35 has had twins. So... why aren't you?

Also, are they implying that I'm big enough to be carrying twins? That makes the question even ruder. Again, do not mention weight when talking to a pregnant woman. Them's fightin' words.

It's not that I wouldn't want to have twins. You see, I am a twin. I have a twin sister. And, apparently, it is genetically probable that I would have twins of my own (one OB/GYN told me I would have a 1 in 5 chance of giving birth to twins myself). So, very often, relatives and close friends who know that I am a twin, keep bugging me, over and over, "Are you sure it's not twins?"

My own admission to being a twin leads to its own set of annoying questions that I have had to endure my entire life. Actually, my mom swears that she got the annoying questions first, when she was pregnant with us. Comments like "Double Trouble" and "Better you than me" when someone would see her out with us at a supermarket or a local park. You know, really stupid, insensitive things like that. But here is just a small sample of the dumb questions my sister and I got growing up:

Are you identical or fraternal? We are fraternal. And yes, I have proof. We participated in a twin study at USC, and they confirmed it. We are, indeed, fraternal.

Do you look alike? We look like sisters, but (as I said), we are not identical. Those who can't tell us apart are jsut not paying attention.

Did you switch classes to trick your teachers growing up? No. What a dumb idea.

Did you fight over boys growing up? No. What an even dumber idea. We had different tastes in guys -- as you would know if you met our husbands.

If I hit you, will your twin feel it? No. But if I hit you, I'd feel a lot better.

Do you and your sister have ESP? No. We're not space aliens. We just shared a womb.

See what I mean?

I would love to have twins. My sister and I had a blast growing up: I had a built-in best friend. We always had each others' back through every year in school, even through college. We were classmates, roommates, sorority sisters, and maids of honor at each others' weddings. (As my Dad liked to say, we began as "wombmates.") So, yeah, I would love that kind of relationship for my future son. And I think if any mom could handle the stupid questions, I could.

But, alas. I have only one. So why do people enjoy making me feel inadequate for that? Making a baby is hard work! And if you don't know what I mean, then shut up -- you've obviously never been through it, so you wouldn't understand.

Mommy Quote of the Week

"Really, I just give her everything she asks for. Whatever she asks she gets, and I'm OK."

~ Robin Thicke, on doting on his seven-months-pregnant wife Paula Patton.

Pickles and Ice Cream

Okay, I'm now 26 weeks pregnant, and the food cravings have subsided. I was craving Kool-Aid and Mexican food for the longest time (sounds so ghetto, doesn't it?), but those days are long gone.

Seems like I should tell Hubby the good news.

He went grocery shopping the other day, so I made a list for him. We were going to make turkey burgers, so I added pickles to the list. The kids love pickles, and I wanted the burgers to taste more like junk food then they really were.

Hubby returns and lovingly presents me with the largest jar of whole pickles I had ever seen.

"What is this?" I asked. "We don't need this many pickles!"

"Oh," Hubby said, looking at me, confused. "I thought it was some sort of craving you were having."

The ol' pickles and ice cream craving, right? Which I had never had in any of my pregnancies. Wasn't this an I Love Lucy episode, where Lucy sent Ricky out in the middle of the night for some pickles and ice cream? (Actually, I think it was ice cream and sardines. Blech.)

Looks like Hubby isn't the only one who believes this stereotype. You search "pickles and ice cream" on bing and it's all about maternity and pregnancy. In truth, cravings just tell a woman what her body needs. Women who crave pickles are really craving salt, and they may be mineral deficient, specifically sodium. And ice cream is just a sweet treat associated with comfort.

Which might explain why I was craving Mexican food. It reminds me of my mom's home cooking, my grandma's house, and feeling warm and well-fed.

Now, what pregnant woman doesn't want that feeling?

Mommy Quote of the Week

"Everything grows rounder and wider and weirder, and I sit here in the middle of it all and wonder who in the world you will turn out to be."

~ Carrie Fisher

Touch My Belly, Lose a Hand

Being pregnant for the third time has made me ready for the idiots. You know who I mean. The rude, insensitive, stupid people who ask the dumb questions or say the most idiotic things. And then they try to touch me. Since when did this belly become public property?! Would it be acceptable for me to ask about your day while I grabbed your boob? (And if it is, please stay far away from me in the future.) (Perv.)

The most common questions and comments I'm getting are about the shock most people have of me having a third child. It's like it's the most ridiculous idea anyone has ever heard of. I have a boy and a girl already -- why on earth would I want to destroy the cosmic symmetry of the perfect family?! I am insane, right? Who in their right mind would have more than two children to create the nuclear family? (Freak.)

Well, there's also the distance in the kids' ages, so the obvious question I'm getting is "Was it planned?" Volcano will be 7 1/2 when the baby's born and Monkey will be 5 1/2, so everyone is assuming this baby is a "mistake" or a "surprise." Or, the ever-so-cutsie "Oops Baby." Ha ha. When asked, "Was it planned?" I can't help but wonder what kind of pervert wants to imagine the process my husband and I might have gone through to make a baby. C'mon, folks. You know how it works. The birds and the bees and all that. Do you really want to imagine what Hubby and I did to conceive? Or the kind of birth control I used (or in this case, did not use)? Do you really want to know if we sat down and talked about it or if we were caught up in the moment? And who cares if it was planned or not? I'm happy, Hubby's happy, and we are two married adults who are financially and emotionally ready to take on a third child. So what do you care? (Sicko.)

But I have also gotten some really strange questions, which aren't just rude but almost bizarre:

Are you going to nurse, or bottle-feed? Why do you care? You're not eating it.

Are you going to have a vaginal birth or a cesarean? There's just something wrong with using the word "vaginal" in casual conversation on an elementary school playground. Again, what pervert wants this mental picture?

Are you sure you can handle a third? (Or similar comments, like: Now you'll be outnumbered! etc.) Usually this comes from someone who cannot handle their own children. And -- guess what? Whenever Hubby's at work, I'm already outnumbered.

Then come the questions and comments about my weight gain. Since when is this appropriate conversation? I say, if you can talk about my expanding belly, I can talk about yours. If we're talking about our weight, than anything goes -- including me telling you how fat your a$$ looks in those jeans. I was patted on the belly (DON'T TOUCH!!!) by Monkey's preschool teacher at 3 months and told, "Ooh, you're starting to show!" I was told at church by some random lady that it "Looks like your expecting something." A mom at Volcano's school told me, "Wow! I just noticed how much you're growing." And one mother was so please to announce that I had brought my "pooch" with me that day. What exactly is the purpose of these comments? Surely not to make me feel good. (Weirdo.)

Here is the doozy. A friend of mine had just lost about 40 pounds, and I was telling him how great he looked. "Yeah," he said. "I've been running 3 miles a day and watching what I eat." As I had just finished congratulating him on his hard work, he said, "So... I've been getting skinny, but it looks like you've put on some weight."

"Yeah, uh... That's what happens when women get pregnant," I sneered sarcastically.

"Oh," he laughed. "I didn't even know you were pregnant!"

(Degenerate Jacka$$.)

No wonder pregnant women are notoriously grumpy.

Mommy Quote of the Week

"You should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests that you think she's pregnant unless you can see an actual baby emerging from her at that moment."

~ Dave Barry

No, I Did Not Fall Off the Face of the Earth

I know it's been a long time since I have updated this blog. I have a really good excuse, too. Although I doubt you'll believe it. Especially since I've probably lost all of my readers out there (the few of you that were there in the first place).

*tapping on microphone, only to hear a screech of feedback*

Is anyone still out there?

Well, the truth is, I've been busy. You parents know how it is. Between driving the kids to school, swimming lessons, soccer practices, dance classes, and piano lessons, I am the designated chauffeur. Plus, I had the brilliant idea to coach Volcano's basketball team this season (which turned into two seasons), so that took up some time. As well as being Volcano's room mom and Monkey's preschool parent representative. (What was I thinking?)

We're also getting used to homework time -- yes, HOMEWORK TIME. For a first grader, Volcano seems to get a lot of homework! Not that it's difficult stuff, just that it is time-consuming. Add that to his regular chores and his need to play Legos or video games, I never get to spend time with him. So I make time -- listening to him describe the saga of his latest Star Wars Legos, play a little Mario Kart, or a board game.

All too soon, it's time to start dinner, and I'm up again. This is when Hubby comes home, and usually offers to help with the kids or dinner or other housekeeping duties I've seemed to have neglected. Then it's more family time, catching up on each other's day, and trying to relax while spending time with each other (a momentous feat when it can be accomplished).

By the time the kids are in bed, it's time to relax and catch up on my TV shows. I'll admit it: come 7:30, 8:00... I become a couch potato. I'm in sweats or pajama pants with a bottle of water and a little snack. Don't move me until the DVR has been emptied.

So, like I'm sure all you parents can understand, I had let the blog slide. Then, about 5 months ago, another wrench was thrown into the gears of my life, just to make things a little more interesting.

I got pregnant.

Yep, you heard me. I'm pregnant. Baby number three is on its way, 24 weeks now and counting. So, as if I wasn't busy enough, I am now exhausted and nauseous and fat and... did I mention exhausted? But I have to tell you (and this is quite important): we are SO happy. I am really looking forward to this baby, and I can't wait for the adventures that lie ahead.

And I'm sure there will be many more adventures. So... stay tuned.

Mommy Quote of the Week

“Do you know what you call those who use towels and never wash them, eat meals and never do the dishes, sit in rooms they never clean, and are entertained till they drop? If you have just answered, 'A house guest,' you're wrong because I have just described my kids.”

~Erma Bombeck