So smart with so much to learn

It amazes me how much The Bear is learning everyday. We're currently rocking through the animal noises. I've never heard a cuter monkey. There are times when he just makes me laugh though.

My mom had taken The Bear to the park down the street from our house. He had climbed to the top of the slide and was about to sit down. My mom walked over to the bottom and touched the slide. She was surprised at how hot it was and told him to stop (she's a bit overprotective and was afraid it would hurt his chubby little thighs. She told him it was "too hot".

So he sat down at the top like the obedient little boy he can be.

He proceeded to blow on the slide. Like I he does when I tell him food is too hot.

Good try, Bear. But, that's an awful lot of huffing and puffing to cool down the slide.



I am finally hungry. Like really, really hungry. It's not so bad during the day, but at night I find myself going to the pantry in search of food ALL THE TIME!

I was delighted to find some Oreos in there. I was crushed to find only two in the package. That was just not going to cut it.

I then discovered a box of Girl Scout Peanut Butter Patties (or Tagalongs as they're called in some places) that I had shoved in the back a while ago. I'm very possessive of my PBPs and was probably hiding them from Hubby (love you, honey).

I looked at the nutritional information on the side. I try to eat relatively healthy and like to use the serving sizes as at least guidelines. I was disgusted to find out they consider a serving to be 2 cookies! Seriously, I don't think I have ever only eaten 2. Those 2 cookies had 14% of my daily fat. I was completely grossed out. How do you cram that much fat in teeny tiny cookies?

I got over it and grabbed 6 cookies.

I may be fat, but at least I'm an informed eater.



When I was pregnant with The Bear, I was convinced he was a girl. I mean absolutely 100% sure and ready to live in a world of pink. All the old wives tales told me girl. The Chinese Lunar calendar said girl. My gut said girl.

When the ultrasound tech told us he was a he, I was shocked. Hubby of course was ecstatic. He had been secretly hoping for a boy (don't all dads?) and was totally surprised since I had brainwashed him into believing we were having a girl. I asked the tech if she was sure. She was. At every ultrasound we had after that (we ended up having a bunch because of medical issues), I always played dumb and had them check the gender again.

I was sad. Part of me was sad, because I'm a girly girl and wanted to paint nails and do hair. I think a bigger part of me was sad because I was so very sure of it. It's rough to be told you're wrong.

The end of my pregnancy brought us many other issues. He was diagnosed with IUGR and an irregular blood flow through the umbilical cord. I was put on bed rest and induced the day I was considered full term (37 weeks). The scariest moment I've had was when Hubby and I were sitting in the OBs office. He told us I would induced that Thursday night, because "the risks of having a baby 3 weeks early outweigh the risks of him being stillborn."

We were so grateful to hear our son cry and be able to hold him. Grated, he took a short trip to the NICU and we did face challenges with him being small. He's a fighter though. I would never trade him for anything. I love having a little boy. Trucks and trains suit me better than I expected.

This time, I feel that Baby is a boy. I am the first to admit my mother's intuition is lacking in the guessing the gender bit though. But, I honestly don't care either way. I would love to have another boy. There's something that warms my heart being able to say "my boys" in reference to my family. A little girl would be fun though and those bows still catch my eye.

I just want a healthy baby. I'll be content with any child God sends my way.


The Tour

I am OBSESSED with the Tour de France. My dad and I started watching it about 9 years ago together, and there's been no looking back. I don't mind July underways (when Hubby is gone with the boat), because it means I get to watch it everyday. It takes a hardcore fan to want to watch the 2-3 hours of it daily for 3 weeks.

I love the suspense. I love the tactics. I love watching the scenery. I love the attitudes. It's a team sport in which there is only one winner. Yes, Lance Armstrong won the Tour 7 times after battling cancer and has made a comeback this year. But, he had a team of 8 other men who rode for him to win. The tactics and support are team based. There aren't any other sports I know of in which men exert weeks of effort and risk serious injuries for someone else to get the glory.

Bicycling is called a gentleman's sport. There are unwritten rules of proper conduct. Yesterday's coverage featured 3 rules of the Tour which really can be applied to life in general.

1) Know who is in charge - Not only the leaders who have done it before, but those pesky things like cars which you will lose against.

2) Know when NOT to attack - Do not mess with things during feed zones (when they pass the lunches out WHILE they are riding past) for food is a serious thing. Don't chase your teammate down. Swallow your pride for the good of the group.

3)Respect the yellow (the overall leader wears yellow) - Do not be that guy that attacks when the leader has a flat or other unfortunate event. I remember when a spectator's bag got stuck on Lance's handlebars and pulled him down. Instead of taking advantage, everyone else slowed down and let him catch up. You want to win because you're the best not because of someone's bad luck.

While some people learned everything they needed to in kindergarten, I learn things from the Tour.


Movin' on Up

This could possibly also be called "The Dangers of IKEA"

We live in a 3 bedroom duplex in the land of Navy housing. I've had my rants before, but it's not a bad place to call home for 32 months we'll gracing Groton with our presence.

As things are currently arranged:
Hubby and I are in the master bedroom which is fairly large.
The Bear is in the smallest of the 3 bedrooms.
The middle bedroom is our office/guest bedroom.

We're going to be switching The Bear into the middle bedroom which is slightly larger and able to accommodate an extra crib. All the stuff in there (bed & desks) will be shoved into The Bear's current room.

Baby will be sleeping in our room for the first few months. The Bear was in our room until he was 4 months old. It saves precious steps during those 2 am feedings and with Hubby in and out allows me to insert the pacifier without opening my eyes. I'm also hoping it will help The Bear sleep a little bit better during those transitional months.

I'm doing all I can to not have The Bear blame the changes on Baby. We're going to be switching the rooms in about a month so it's not too close to the birth. I'm trying to make his new room fun for him.

While my mom was here, we went to IKEA. It's only about 45 minutes away, but Hubby always felt it was too far to drive "just to look". I'm thinking he knew what "just looking" can do to our credit card bill though :-). I bought new sheets for The Bear and Baby. They're green with white hippos which I felt was gender neutral enough since we don't know is Baby is on team blue or pink. I also got new things to hang on the wall and one of those cool rugs that has a town with roads on it. The same type of rug was $70 at Target. How could I not buy it? This was my thinking until I realized our cart was overflowing, and I was carrying a table.

I find it odd being pregnant for the second time. I still love shopping for Baby, but we own most of Babies R Us already. I'm realizing how focused I am on easing The Bear's transition, I've flown through the first half of preparation for Baby.



Being a Navy wife has taught me many things over the last few years.

I am amazingly talented at dealing with the constant changing of plans.

And, I now draw an awesome submarine.

Hubby should be proud to have a wife like me.



Dear Old Man Who Stands at the Base Gate Protesting,

I was quite shocked to see you today. It had been a while since I had last spotted you holding your “War is not the answer” sign. You were a staple of my summer last year and noticeably absent lately. While I do not know your story, there are a few things I would like to tell you.

I commend your use of the First Amendment. I was a communications student in college and took whole classes dedicated to the law and application of our freedom of speech. I personally find it ironic that you utilize your freedom in a way to tell us others should not be granted the right to choose if they would like to be treated in the same way. I am not ethnocentric enough to say all countries should have governments like ours or handle everything in our way. I do however believe that everyone should get to pick what type of government best suits their morals, their goals and their nation. Thank you for reminding us that no matter how kooky your ideas are, you can say them. There are countless people around the world that dream of making their own signs. Your protest frustrates me inside, but it reminds me to be proud to be an American.

You are an older gentleman. It would not surprise me if you were once a soldier or sailor yourself. Regardless of your military exposure, there is something you really should be aware of. Those men driving past you every day on their way to work were not asked their opinions for entering certain countries. I guarantee you there was no poll to see who wanted to go to war. No volunteering. No majority rules type of management. They were told. It is their job to do as they are told. A vast majority of them joined the military before we began the hunt for weapons of mass destruction. And, they signed contracts. I can promise you that if you gave those men the option of going off into harms way for months at a time and leaving their families behind or staying nice and safe at home . . . most would choose home.

The people that make all those important decisions are not driving by you here in Groton. They tend to be about 8 hours south of here. A protest would at least be seen by the people who can make those choices in Washington, DC. As special as I think my Hubby is, in the grand scheme of things, he’s not that powerful.

Those same people down in DC also have a one up on you. They know more. While I love the New York Times and fully believe in questioning our nation’s path, I am also aware of the vast amount of classified and secret knowledge I am not privy to. The service members must trust the person with the information. Some people may twist information or hide parts, but someone knows the full story. You have to have a level of faith that as an elected official they will do what is right. That comes with the whole democracy and electoral process your freedom of speech does.

Finally, sir, you make me sad. I am not old enough to remember the Vietnam fiasco. That was my parents’ time. I can witness the difference in pride and self worth that a World War II vet has from a Vietnam vet. The public was supportive of WWII. Parades welcomed the men home. Those returning from Vietnam were met with protests and hatred. You do not have to agree with being in Iraq or Afghanistan or any foreign country for that matter. But, please respect those who do their duty. There is no reason not to support the men and women who are in the military.

Maybe someday I will have time to stop and talk to you. I would love to learn your story. Perhaps you can hear mine, too.



Busy Bees

We have some busy times coming up. My parents are in for a summer visit which means lots of eating out and doing fun things with little time sitting at the computer. Hubby also is in for a few days to celebrate the 4th. Thank you, Mr Navy. You finally did something thoughtful.

We'll be off having adventures and creating funny memories.

The Bear's first candy apple at his first carnival/festival.

The Bear's very messy face after said candy apple.

Enjoying some Grandpa and Bear time at the beach.

Hope everyone has a fantastically patriotic and fun filled 4th of July weekend!