Of Dogs and Rabbits

Some exciting happenings around the ol' Smoz household the other night. Let us open the storybook to read through the climactic events of the evening:

Near dusk, our rotund leading lady Niel is out walking with her dashingly handsome husband. For the sake of literary drama, let us call this man "Nicholas". Between them trots a pure mixed-breed canine, Sheeba-the-Wonder-Dog. Suddenly, out of the thin rays of fading sunlight, screams forth a fuzzy bunny. It's clear from the glint in this rabbit's eye that it is plauged with rabid intent, and determined to attack the throat of our vunerable, pregnant protagonist, Niel.

Sheeba-the-Wonder-Dog hears the shriek of pure terror from her owner, and responds with a call to action not seen since the days of lore. Muscles taut, Sheeba explodes with a fury of protective determination. Sheeba races to confront the sick beast head-on, and immediately a life and death battle of animal survival ensues.

With strength borne of sheer love and protection, Sheeba gains the upper-hand on the blindly fighting animal. A chase ensues, and Sheeba races through the thick underbrush to ensure the rabbit is far from her beloved owner.

Scared yet? Me too.

Sheeba comes limping out of the thick foliage towards her grateful human companions. Quickly, our leading couple realizes that something has gone horribly wrong. The bunny has gotten ahold of Sheeba at some point during the vicious struggle, and sunk his deep, pointed fangs into her soft webbed footing.

Dragging her limp, torn paw, Sheeba leads her owners on the still-fraught-with-danger path home. Walking into their door with relief, they all cried for the realization that they could never feel truly safe again. Because somewhere, living deep within the shadows between fear and unease, lived the rabbit. He had had a taste of blood. And he would be forever hungry for more.

Story Possibility #2:



We took Sheeba out for her nighttime walk, and as usual she saw a bunny in the neighborhood and her chase instinct kicked in. The bunny ran in abject terror through someone's front yard, and Sheeba went racing off after it. Mid-pursuit, we think Sheeba stepped on some uncovered metal edging and sliced the bottom of her back paw open between the pads of her toes. She never acted like it hurt, but once she got back on the cement we realized she was pooling out blood like a crime scene. We were about a mile away from home, so we had to walk her all the way back, leaving a distinct Hansel and Gretel trail of blood behind us. Once we got home I put compression on her foot for about 20 minutes and thought I had gotten it stopped, only to have her stand up and immediately bleed through a band-aid and ace bandage I had wrapped her paw with. Since it obviously wasn't clotting, it was time to pull out the big guns, so I dumped corn starch all over it (note to dog owners: always keep corns starch on hand - it will immediately cauterize any deep cut on your dog's paws), wrapped it in one of Nick's old socks, and made her lay down the rest of the night. Sheeba seemed compeltely non-plussed by the entire experience, and was just happy that she got to eat basically an entire package of cheese since Nick and I felt bad for her. The End.

Bloody pawprints that marked the exact trail we took home. And yeah, they're still all there. Sorry neighbors!

The patient. She just looks like she's in excruciating pain, no? If you're wondering what she's staring at, it's more cheese. Probably her 74th slice or so at this point.

Surgical supplies. Yes, there are pantiliners there. They soak up blood great - don't judge.

My co-surgeon. Just call him Dr. Cheese Feeder.

Bandage attempt #1 - promptly bled through in about .14 seconds upon standing.

The final, successful solution.











All a Mommy's Heart Desires

So now that we've learned the sex of Eggy (and yes, it is still Eggy. It's not like I'm going to start calling him "Weiney" just because we know it's a boy) it's clearly time to start coveting some adorable baby gear. Let's first make it clear that pregnant women, credit cards, and baby stuff is a dangerous, unstable combination. I'm like pregnant plutonium over here people. A few of my needs (please notice my "needs" word choice versus "wants"):

http://www.etsy.com/listing/63533046/tree-with-forest-friends-decal-set-kids

We want to put this wall decal up on the wall behind the crib and changing table. We've painted the room the same-ish shade of green as in this picture, and are using white as an accent to the dark wood furniture. It's a woodland animal cuteness explosion. Keep your head down to avoid the resulting spray of adorableness.

http://www.etsy.com/listing/78511397/blue-hoot-hoot-quilt-by-petunias

This owl quilt. I die of the cuteness. I simply die.

Here's the bedding my Ma bought us. Me so spoiled.

http://www.etsy.com/listing/70500005/puppy-beanie-crochet-baby-photography



http://www.etsy.com/listing/73067070/newborn-newsboy-beanie-in-barley-color



http://www.etsy.com/listing/78190242/made-to-order-chunky-button-beanie

http://www.etsy.com/listing/72898772/baby-koala-hat-with-or-without-flower

http://www.etsy.com/listing/78030510/cream-chunky-newborn-hat-with-wooden

http://www.etsy.com/listing/62763061/made-to-order-owl-earflap-beanie-newborn

Three words: Stupid Baby Hats. It doesn't get better than this, I tell ya.

Nick and I went out shopping the other day for baby boy clothing and had so much fun (which goes down on record as the first time that the word "fun" has been applicable to a shopping trip with Nicholas). This baby is going to be decked out in sports gear, preppy wear, and overall dorkus baby clothing. Seriously, we're talking sweater vests, old man driving caps, tiny infant starter jackets, and train engineer overalls. Dressing your child like this is akin to abuse in certain cultures. I can't wait.

To elaborate a bit on the ultrasound - it was amazing. As soon as Eggy came up on the screen I started tearing up - I just can't get over that this was the same little black spot we watched grow in my ovary 6 months ago and prayed would mature enough to be released. He was moving around a ton in there and looked like he was lounging in a uterus hammock. Life must be good in Hotel de Niel's Vajayjay. We got to see his heart, spine, brain, and all major organs and bones (and everything looks perfect!) He was turning circles, waving his hand, opening and closing his mouth, flexing his feet and toes, and even sucking his thumb at one point. It's so bizarre to see this little tiny fetus do all these normal human things in there. At one point the tech was measuring the femur bones and I got a little peek at something in that general area that looked a bit suspicious. The tech hadn't said anything yet, but had asked us whether or not we wanted to know the sex. She checked a few other areas, and then came back down for a view of "the goods", and asked us what we thought it looked like we were having. There was no missing the twig and berries going on down there - and as soon as she confirmed "yep, it's a son" we all started cheering and crying. I don't think Nick knew what to do with himself. Eggy was very 'flashy' with the boy hardware (and everytime his little penis came up on the screen the tech would say "Doing!"...A bit unsettling quite honestly.) There is definitely no question that we've got a little man growing in there, and Nick's been puffed up with manly pride at the cajones our little one flashed on the screen. The only thing that worries me is how the heck is my womanly body going to know how to grow a penis/testicles correctly? I feel like I should study up on some male anatomy charts on something. I mean, it is an important piece of equipment. Plus it's ever so slightly disturbing to think I have a little tiny penis growing inside me. I'm just saying.

It was great because my mom was able to be there to see this all as well, and it was incredibly special to have her be part of such a powerful experience for us on the road to parenthood. She of course cried when the baby came up on the ultrasound initially, cried when they said it was a boy, cried with the midwife pulled up the heartbeat on the doppler, cried when she gave me a hug to say bye...Well, you get the drift. It was emotional. Overall it was awesome hearing that we're having a baby boy (though I've had such a strong sense that's what we were cooking this whole pregnancy - honestly I would have been shocked if it had been a girl!), but even better was to hear that everything is looking happy and healthy for our little Eggy. We couldn't be more excited...

20 Week Survey:

How far along?: 5 months preggo! Half way there already...

How big is baby?: 10 ounces and 6 inches long - about the size of a banana

Weight gain?: Up 10lbs. Hmmm, if baby is only 10 ounces, what the hell else is accounting for that other 9lbs 6ounces?!

Maternity Clothes?: Fo' sho'. Sad moment when I realized my men's small t-shirt I wear to work-out is starting to get a little tight.

Stretch Marks?: We don't say that word in this house.

Sleep?: MY *&^%^ HIPS ARE KILLING ME. Someone is going to pay for this. Probably Nicholas.

Best moment this week?: Finding out we're having a BOY!

Movement?: Lots and lots. Turning into actual jabs and rolls now.

Food cravings?: Crackers, cheese, and salsa. My trusty stand-by.
Aversions?: Did you see the weight gain? Does it sound like I'm experiencing aversions?!
Gender?: Houston, we've got a weiner!

Belly button in or out?: Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiide. 
What I miss most?: Being able to work-out without feeling like a fatty-fatty-two-by-four. I have so much more sympathy for people battling their weight who are trying to work out. It is seriously HARD doing my work-out with this extra weight tacked on my gut.

What I'm looking forward to?: Buying more baby things! Must. Find. Self. Control.

Milestones: Weiner sighting, ultrasound to see baby, half-way cooked mark...This was a big week!

It's a....

BOY!

Yes, there were tears. Yes, I've already gone shopping for clothing. And yes, Nick and I couldn't be happier. Welcome to the world, baby boy. We already love you more than you know.

What do Garage Sales and the Cabin have to do with each other?

Nothing. But that's what this post is about. Let us tackle these complex topics in order:

Issue A) Garage Sales
Our neighborhood had a community garage sale, so being the little thrift master I am, we scored on some loot. Here's what we netted for about $50 bucks...



Bouncy chair for Nana and Pop-pop's house. Currently being enjoyed by one black and white kitty cat.



Why don't they make these for grown-ups? I'm not ashamed to say I'd be first in line for that piece of merch.



Moses Basket. Orignially didn't know I wanted one, but for $7 bucks turns out it's the one thing I've always wished for. Came with full bedding, which was in the washer on HOT setting while this picture shoot was in the works. Germaphobic much?



Baby's First Bible. Because second hand religion is how we roll at the Smoz residence.

Christmas Newborn Onsie. Half of me is shocked that a baby will be small enough to fit in this, while the other half of me is shocked by the fact that something big enough to fit in this is going to propel its way out of my tender lady parts in 4 short months.



Arms Reach Co-Sleeper. (Which can transition into a bassinet/pack-and-play). Nick and I have known that we want to co-sleep with Eggy initially, and loved the idea of a co-sleeper. Allows us to keep our bed space and keep Eggy safe, but also keeps Eggy within easy arm (and boob) reach. LOVE that we found this - it's in perfect condition and costs over $100 less than if we had bought it new. Turns out the incense I light for the shopping Gods DOES pay off! 




The Koala Pillow Pet is Nicholas's. Just wanted to make that point clear.



Bottle of water that the girl at the corner lemonade stand scammed me for. She gave me those pathetic "no one's stopped all day to purchase from me" eyes, but when I looked in her little Crayola pencil box cash register she had more money than the US Mint stashed away in there. May have to look into opening my own corner stand on the weekends. Though I've heard the insurance for those kinds of things is a bitch these days.

 I'm seriously considering turning into a hardcore garage saler after all this raging garage sale success. I may be a convert. Unfortunately it would mean I'd need to wear a fanny pack full of single dollar bills, an ill-fitting straw hat (inevitably picked up from some garage sale, natch), and drive around town at 5am Saturday morning to sit in people's driveways waiting for them to open the garage door to heaven and allow the manna of sales to pour out upon me. Yeah. Still some issues to consider there.

Which moves us right along to:

Issue B) The Cabin:
My mom, dad, Nick, me, and Sheeba went up to the Cabin today for a day-trip. The Cabin is up in Medicine Bow National Forest in Wyoming - about a two hour drive from our house. While my dad stayed to help his brother and family slave away clearing off some trees around the property, my mom, Nick, and I conveniently slipped away to partake in some hiking.



Sheeba despereately wanted to leave to go play. "NO SHEEBA, SIT! WE'RE GOING TO HAVE A FAMILY PICTURE, DAMMIT!"



Pregnant woman on wet rocks standing next to a raging river? Why of course that's a great idea! I can hear my wonderful doula sighing and shaking her head at me now...




My Ma and me (with the "me" part of things looking pretty large and in charge.)



It was all fun and games till we remembered that Sheeba can't swim.



Nick looking very pissed off at this point in the photo shoot.




We figured out that the last time a pregnant woman was at the cabin was when my mom was up there pregnant with Dan. How crazy is that?

Oh how cute - Sheeba found a stick she wanted to play with!

Upon further investigation, this is starting to take on some very suspicious non-stick-like qualities.

Um yeah. That's a deer leg. With half its fur still on it.




Deer-leg depression in the car on the way back to the Cabin. She will never be the same.

****Tomorrow is the big day for an Eggy privy parts reveal! Keep you fingers crossed that we have baby cooperation!!! ***



187 Easy Steps to Creating Your Own Side Table

Step #1: Decide you need a side table for your baby's room. Determine you must immediately go out and purchase said side table.

Step #2: Go shopping with husband for 5 hours at local flea markets to try to find the "perfect table" in admist the one-armed dolls, coonskin hats, and Joe Camel coffee cup memorabilia.

Step #3: Break for lunch even though it's only 10:30am. Eat one (1) Wendy's Spicy Chicken Sandwich.

Step #4: Recognize that you are never, ever going to find "the perfect side table" that you have envisioned in your mind. It may only exist in a parallel universe.

Step #5: Get home and realize that the table you stuck in the baby's room to get out of the way is actually the perfect size/shape of what you just spent half you day looking for in sweaty, cigarrette stained, hoarder-like flea markets.

Step #5 1/2: Ponder why they would name a type of market after a small, agile, and wingless insect famous for feeding on the skin and blood of animal hosts. Why not a Butterfly Market? Or perhaps an Earwig Market?

Doesn't it just scream "used furniture and other miscellanous goods"?

Step #6: Take the requisite "before" picture of your table.

Step #7: Dismantle table, possibly losing three to eleven critical pieces of hardware in the process (exact number of pieces can be left to discretion).

Step #8: Sand pieces to prepare for painting/staining. Preferrably start sanding outside at noon in the middle of July while 19 weeks pregnant.

Step #9: Quit after two pieces and leave the rest for your husband. Make mental note that sanding is just as sucky and not-fun as it looks like it would be.

Step #10: Get bored because sanding is now taking your husband a really long time since he's doing it alone. Bring out dog and pose "dog sanding" pictures to entertain yourself.



Step #11: Take too many "dog sanding" pictures and totally lose dog's interest. Lament the fact that your limited choices for entertainment is even boring the dog.

Step #12: Go inside and eat left over potatoes from last night's dinner.

Step #13: Now that you've refueled, gain new found interest in the dog sanding pictures, and decide that they would be funnier and more exciting if the dog was standing up! And sanding! Because, seriously, if a dog was going to sand a board he'd do it standing up! Convince your husband to stop working and help you place the dog's feet on the sandpaper to give it that 'photojournalistic' vibe you're aiming for.

Step #14: Realize you wasted 15 minutes of project time torturing the dog. (Worth it, though. Seriously worth it.)

Step #15: Beginning staining process. Pregnant partner should go inside at this point so her friends don't give her insanse amounts of grief. (Step #15 Option B: Help with staining process and fib to your friends and don't post about it on the blog that you invited them to read. Option B does come with major risk of backfire. Employ Option B at your own risk.)

Step #16: Continuing staining more pieces. Realize this table has a shit-ton of pieces when taken apart.

Step #17: Get irritated that your pregnant wife (who continues to eat left over potatoes inside the doorway) insists on taking pictures of you working on every friggin' piece of this damn table.

Step #18: Turn around so she can't take any more pictures of table process.
Step #19: Because the dog won't play with you anymore and you're bored again, start taking more pictures anyway just to piss him off.

Step #20: Bring entire operation inside the doorway due to sudden flood advisory.
Step #21: Pray over your table top pieces to ensure a smooth coat of paint.


Amen.



Step #22: Test the power of your prayers and begin painting.

Step #23: Let everything dry, piece it all back together, and throw it into Eggy's room. Realize you're too sick of the project at this point to take any more pictures of a stupid table.

Step #24: Argue about where the table looks best in the room. Eventually rearrange entire room at 10:30 at night four different times because the crib should be catty-corner slanted to the LEFT NOT THE RIGHT YOU BIG DUMB HEAD STUPID FACE!

Step #25: Recognize this table is becoming a catalyst for marriage counseling. Go to bed before having to claim "table dispute" on divorce papers.

Step #26: Wake up rested and happy. Take "after" picture of table.

Step #27: Realize that the dog is being vindictive for the "sanding incident" yesterday, and is sticking her fat head into every shot you try to take of the new table. Attempt to shove her away, which drives her to DIY end-table-induced psychosis:

Step #28: Lock dog out of baby's room. Take another picture.

Step #29: Buy random baby basket at Hobby Lobby and place on bottom shelf.
Step #30: Promise each other that from here on out all baby things are to be bought pre-made.