Quest for the Holy Grail

Ugh, it's late, and I want to be asleep.  But I remembered I needed to check Ashley's blog for Chloe's birthday pictures, so I popped up really quickly.  While I was looking, I was reminded of something that happened at the party that irritated me.  One of the people asked the sex of my baby, and when I told her, she said, completely dismayed, "OH YOUR POOR THING!"  And she didn't mean anything by it, and it's not like it's a lone incident.  It's just the cherry on top of lots of comments I've gotten, both from strangers and from acquaintances, who I know mean well, and it's not really offensive as much as "IHHH!"  (Ashley knows exactly how that should be pronounced.)

Anyway, it boils down to this:  when did giving birth to a girl become the Holy Grail of pregnancy?  I admit I wanted a girl, but it was more for naming purposes than anything.  I have the hardest time naming my boys, and I have the perfect girl's name all ready to go.  But I'm thrilled we're having another boy!  It's gonna be so fun (hard, but fun).  I always knew I would have tons of boys.  But people will ask me, "Do you know what it is?"  And when I tell them it's a boy, they always look so deflated and disappointed.  "Oh, well you'll get your girl next time."  Um, what?  This is a person who is coming to be a part of our family, and he belongs here!  That's totally awesome and exciting and just indescribable!  Boys are so cool.  One of my favorite sounds in the world is a little boy imitating a race car, or roaring like a tiger.  I love their cowlicks and skinny legs.  I love their dirt grimy hands when they cover mine.  And I love when Ewan, in perfect imitation of me and every member of the Anderson family, grabs my arm or hand, squeezes as hard as he can while gritting his teeth and says, "Squeeze you 'til you pop!"  They are just awesome, and in case there was ever a question, once I found out it was a boy for sure, it was like, "Oh, of course, I knew you were coming.  We've saved a place for you."  

Even if I have to call him "No-name Taylor."

Amateur photographer, mud pies, and crazy people

*Note* I'll have you know that I am this close to throwing my computer through the window because it will not properly publish my font. Everything is all squinched together. Pardon the strain on your eyes, and also my cussing, which maybe you didn't hear, but trust me, it happened.

Ewan is currently ground from any video or computer games. Today, as a substitute, he decided to take some pictures. Usually he takes pictures of the wall or a box of crackers, but today he actually got some good shots of Fynn. Later in the day, he wanted to dig for worms, but our neighbors lovely pit bulls were trying to climb the fence to eat our dog, so we decided to go play in our side yard instead. And it was a total MUD PIT! So naturally we took our shoes off and had a grand old time. Well, except for Fynn, he didn't like the feeling of the mud so much, so he steered clear.

Taken by Ewan while playing Door Peekaboo

Those big, soulful eyes are full of tears because I was on an important phone call and had put him down because he was screaming in my ear. Also taken by Ewan.

Sitting in the mud pit.

Standing in the mud pit.

He got much dirtier after this one.

Tonight we went to the ball game with the Saunders, Bowers, Kirchmanns, Grimmetts and Grundbergs. That was a lot of fun, and the kids did really well. (Again, I'll be stealing pictures from the other people present, so those will come later.) The only dark spot on the whole evening was the bat*%$! crazy woman who sat next to us. All the kids were pretty much communal property among all of us families, the whole "it takes a village" thing, and Ewan and Natalie were sitting in two chairs next to me. Some young couple wandered over the the seats next to them, and at first I thought this lady was just overly friendly as she started chitchatting with the kids. A little annoying, but nothing compared to when I looked over and she was giving them cotton candy! Now, I don't care if my child has cotton candy, we were going to buy some for him, but where on Earth did this lady hear it was okay to offer someone else's children, that you don't know, candy? I was very aggravated, but was trying to be nice, so I just thanked her. And she continued with the questions, working her way to asking them their names. Bryce and I were both getting very uncomfortable, but nothing prepared me for when she started TICKLING MY SON. Seriously. Tickling him. Um, yeah, don't touch my kid. So I start figuring out in my head how I'm going to lure him away, when that woman pulled out a camera and was taking pictures of both of them. That was the final straw, and I had to work up my courage to get them away NOW. Luckily, Natalie saw Bella and wanted to be with her, so that worked out. But I had to physically pick Ewan up and put him in my lap to get him away from her. She and her companion apparently got the hint, because they immediately left and went back to whatever hole they came from. But seriously, how many grossly inappropriate things was she going to work into a ten minute period? So we had to have the talk with Ewan that even though strangers may seem nice, we just don't know, and that all the things she was doing were not appropriate. I am mad at myself, though, because I should have immediately said, "Please don't tickle him." The cotton candy thing I could have overlooked, because we were right there, and she was eating it as well, but the rest was so far over the line, and I hate that I even hesitated to offend her. But I finally did, and I know Natalie also got a good lecture from her mother about it once I told her what happened. It's a lesson to be learned by me to stop caring about offending other people.

Enjoying randomness

Have you ever been watching the news, and towards the end, they include a story that you just can't believe made the cut?  Sometimes they come up with the most ridiculous, nonsensical, or just plain ordinary stories to include on the news.  Tonight, after a piece about how a sheikh paid $2.7 million for a female camel, because females run faster in big races, my mouth was hanging open in disbelief.  I mean, why do I need to know this?  But then the newscaster made up for it by looking deathly serious into the camera and saying, "We just thought you should know."  I want to take him out for lunch and buy him a steak for that.  

Ewwwwww...

I'm sorry, but THIS is NOT attractive.  Less time in the gym, more time eating steaks and fries, please.

Maybe not

I've been talking so much about how I want a girl, and now I'm just not so sure.  I was looking at my niece's MySpace page, and in her "About Me" section, every other sentence is "I'm sexy.  I'm still sexy.  Look at me, I'm so sexy."  Um, no, you aren't.  You are fourteen.  Why is a fourteen year old so wrapped up in how sexy she is?  What is this culture we live in?  I want a girl, I really do, but I think I'll have to be sedated in order to raise her without having a heart attack.

Spare me

If my family was on the news or in the paper every time this happened growing up, we would be major celebrities. Talk about your fifteen minutes of fame.  How does this stuff make it on the news?  All the same, I hope the wee little feline makes it out okay.  Then he can come live with me.

What is the world coming to?

I just had it on PBS KIDS for a few minutes, and they played a Barney commercial. Barney and those brats were singing "I Just Can't Get Enough" by Depeche Mode. My ears are bleeding. The desecration!

Step away from the microphone

As you may recall from this nostalgic post, I was a HUGE New Kids on the Block fan. Seriously, I was in their fan club, and I wept every time they were in town because my parents could not afford to send me to the concert.  For the first year or so, I was in love with Jordan, but I quickly moved on to Joey, rightfully so.  When they were on awards shows, I would literally sit there and tremble, much to the delight of my fire-extinguishing brother, who mocked me to tears.  I had a life-sized poster of them that hung in my room, and I would talk to it.  Lengthy and detailed discussions about our future together.  It was a magical relationship.  And then I grew up.  I thought they did, too.

But have you heard?  They are reuniting.  Why?  Seriously.  Why?  Who's gonna listen to that?  I mean, maybe for nostalgia's sake, a few old fans will indulge in some guilty-pleasure-NKOTB.  But for real?  I mean, shouldn't we all move on?  Shouldn't Joey just continue with his perfectly respectful Broadway career?  And shouldn't Donnie, actually talented as an actor, work on that?  And the rest of them, um, whatever it is they do...?  Just keep doing it.  Please.  Don't quit your day job.  Seriously.

Seriously.

Don't want to meet him in a dark alley

If you haven't yet heard, there's a pretty weird, creepy video circulating of Tom Cruise singing the praises of Scientology. It's over eight minutes long, and I couldn't even make it all the way through it. But watch a little of it, because knowing a little about it makes this little parody by Jerry O'Connell just that much funnier.

Not covered by Blue Cross

Bryce has been in what he calls "excruciating" pain. Every movement of his arm has him whining and grimacing like someone was performing surgery on him awake. He can barely bend his right elbow, and every time he tries, his face contorts into quite an ugly sight. (But he's not melodramatic, no, not at all.) It all started when he downloaded a game onto his cell phone. That's right, ladies and gentlemen. Bryce has Tetris Elbow.

No regrets

I think this is pretty funny... and ridiculous.

Give me a break!

I am otherwise speechless about this.

My Husband the Outlaw

I come home from preschool with Ewan to a phone message, "This is Detective R. from the Austin Police Department. I need to speak with Bryce Taylor..."

Um, OK? What?

So I called, and this sexually ambiguous sounding person answered the phone, and we began to speak. First he/she said, "I need to speak with Bryce, can he not call me?" He/she then started saying things like, "It might be nothing, there might not be anything to worry about," the tone of It's voice totally sounding like Bryce is being accused of some dark, sinister, horrible thing. I couldn't help thinking, this is the end of our life as we know it. "I then calmly, oh so calmly, explained I am his wife, I can't get a hold of him. And that being his wife, hearing a message from a detective looking for my husband is a little concerning. After a ten minute conversation, I learned that my husband was in Austin in October 12 at a gas station stealing beer. In a brown Honda. Huh. Imagine that. So that was Bryce's clone his parents and I were having dinner with in Downtown G.P.? And who was that man who bathed my children?!

We've never owned a brown Honda, and it still hasn't been officially cleared up, but we did sell a green Honda a while back. It was at this point in the phone call the detective, who I later discovered owned the first name Ava (she, indeed), said something like, "I can see a witness confusing a green car with a brown one." Like she totally didn't believe me. And I know, I understand these are detective and they have their leads to follow, but you could just hear the guilty conviction hanging over both our heads. They are waiting for video from the gas station to come back so they can compare it with his driver's license.

We just hope you'll come visit him at Sing Sing. And be sure to bake a knife into the pie you bring us. Bryce likes apple.