… Because we spend more time at work than with our loved ones

I have been in the “real world” for a few years now (it’s been 12 years now since I graduated from college) and in that time I have developed some workplace pet peeves. One of my biggest complaints is the Walking Dead who come to work hacking, sniffling, and groaning about how sick they are. Really? You feel sick? Then USE ONE OF YOUR SICK DAYS AND STAY HOME. I’d understand if we didn’t have sick days to burn, but we do! News flash to anyone who thinks they HAVE to come to work when they feel like crap because they just have SO much to do: you are not so important that the office can’t function without you for a day or two.

Other annoyances:

• When people sign emails with “Best.” Have we become so lazy that we can’t write two more words and sign off with “All the best” or “All my best?”

• Anyone who doesn’t wash their hands after using the bathroom. What is wrong with you? Were you raised in a barn?

• Clients who lie about not receiving emails or voicemails.

• Cheap-skates who don’t donate to baby shower gifts but still have the nerve to sign the card and show up at the shower.

• When I can hear two coworkers on the phone IN A CALL TO EACH OTHER. Sort of defeats the purpose of the phone, doesn’t it? Either shoot her an email or get off your ass and walk over to her desk so we don’t all have to listen to your conversation.

• Speaking of Loud Talkers, there is one in my office—who has a wonderful, spunky, charming personality—but talks so loud that I can’t concentrate or think sometimes (and I know it’s not just me).

• If you don’t know how to do something, ask. Don’t pretend that you know if you don't. It will irritate the rest of your competent workers when you/we have to re-do everything at the last minute because it’s all wrong.

• When pregnant coworkers say, “Baby’s hungry” in order to justify whatever it is they’re eating. No, YOU are hungry, and that’s fine. Just eat the damn cheesecake already.

• When The Food Police feel it’s necessary to tell you what’s in your breakfast/processed meal/can of Coke and how bad it is for you. (Sometimes I don’t want to think about the nutritional value, I just want to enjoy the taste!)

• Chronic whiners. If your job sucks so much, maybe you should quit!

• The very annoying and very persistent “I sell home products in my free time and I will keep asking you if you want to buy some over-priced item until I wear you down” Consultant. How many times do I have to tell my coworker that no, I do NOT want to buy a candle (and no, I really don’t want to host a party), before she gets the hint?

• Malicious gossip. “Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss other people.”

• We have two functioning dishwashers in the kitchen. If one is overflowing with dirty dishes, add detergent and start it rather than leave your dirty dishes in the sink. If the other one is full of clean dishes, put those away and put your dirty dishes in there. It’s not that hard.

• Anyone who has a superiority complex. Get off your high horse. We all put our pants on one leg at a time.

How about you? What are your office pet peeves?

Rhymin' and Stealin'

I meant to post these after the concert Nov. 1. Tenacious D, Ben Harper, and the Beastie Boys. Awesome, awesome, awesome.

My little Usain Bolt

Adam is finally sleeping in his crib from 8:15 p.m. to 6:15 a.m., thanks to the Fisher Price Ocean Wonder Aquarium.
“The gentle sights and sounds of a mesmerizing aquarium soothe your baby to sleep right in the crib. The fish swim, a crab plays peek-a-boo, seaweed gently sways, bubbles bounce, soft lights glow, and serene aquatic sounds ease baby into slumber.”
Best thing ever.
He’s also learning to walk, although walking is an understatement. It’s more like careening wildly out of control. His feet seem to move faster than his brain. Every day he gets a little more bold, but he's made it perfectly obvious that he's not in any rush to walk upright. I figure he prefers to crawl because when he’s on all fours, he doesn’t have to worry about toppling over. Plus he’s a ridiculously fast crawler. I like to think of him as my little Usain Bolt. (Only without the Jamaican accent.) Which reminds me, I read that Usain’s “secret” to being the fastest man in the world is eating chicken nuggets. Which is the only reason I let Adam eat them. (Right.)
Our little guy does everything Usain-fast. He eats fast, he moves fast, he talks fast. He also climbs stairs, turns pages in books, plays with balls and blocks and cars and Little People, says no (usually while vehemently shaking his head), says please when he wants fruit snacks (which comes out more like “pay”), helps me clean by moving a Kleenex/napkin/dish towel across the table/floor/our shoes/his nose, and loves to play hide-and-seek in his large carseat box (Aaron, genius that he is, turned the box into a fort.) He likes to look in the mirror, eat sand (and chicken nuggets), and sing. He sings every day on the way home from daycare. He also likes to dance. Aaron and I had him jamming out in the backseat once to the Beastie Boys. Is this a sign that he already knows good music when he hears it?
He may be a late learner when it comes to walking, but his vocabulary is coming right along. He has animal sounds for cow, chicken, cat, dog, horse, sheep, and my new favorite—the VACUUM. His vacuum impersonation sounds a lot like static on a TV channel. He calls me “mama” and Aaron “mama” (we try to remind him that Aaron is DADDY, which he says as “dah-ee”) and he says good morning (“morn”) and night-night. He says hi and bye-bye while doing a modified beauty pageant wave where he sort of twists his wrist and slowly waves back and forth, back and forth.
He was a lion for Halloween, courtesy of our daycare provider (she made the costume for her grandson, who wore it last year) and was a good sport about suddenly having a mane and a long tail. He even let me take about a hundred pictures of him without protesting too much. Our close friends AJ and John hosted a Halloween party for the kids, and everyone had a ball. Adam's friends Jack, Ryan, Charlie, Ellen, Greta, Nora, Leah, and Sadie were all in attendance. The costumes were all creative and adorable.
We also brought him to a Wild game, and he sat through two whole periods—absolutely fixated on the action on the rink—before he started getting antsy. Our friend Molly, who was kind enough to share extra tickets with us, was in awe.
He still does well on long car rides and he’s fairly good when we’re shopping, although he’s not as content sitting in a stroller or shopping cart as he used to be. I can’t bring him to the mall and leisurely try on outfits in the dressing rooms anymore—now he wants to get out and explore (which really doesn’t work so well in a dressing room). His hair gets more and more blonde with each passing month, and he regularly gets compliments on his pretty blue eyes.
I fall in love with him a little more every day and sometimes have to pinch myself that he belongs to me. I mean, how could I be responsible for creating such a beautiful little boy? I'm sure every parent thinks this at some point in time. The concept of giving another person life is too hard for me to wrap my head around so I don't dwell on it too much.
I can’t get enough of his belly laughs (best achieved through tickeling), his hugs and kisses, when he strokes my face and says “nice,” how over-protective he is of me when Aaron kisses me (yesterday he hauled off and whacked Aaron after he planted one on me), the way he throws his head back, closes his eyes, and smiles when he’s acting goofy, how he playfully hits his head and says “bonk” when he’s trying to make you laugh (he learned that one from Uncle Shawn), how he holds a remote between his ear and shoulder and thinks it’s a phone, how he says “vroom vroom” when he sees a motorcycle, how he equal-opportunity flirts with young pretty girls as well as old, wrinkly grandmas, how he likes to comb my hair after I comb his, and how he cuddles right before bed.

In other news:
• We were in the second row at the Beastie Boys concert Nov. 1. SECOND ROW. I could see the sweat on Mike D’s face. Also: Jack Black will always be my faux “boyfriend” (I do not think he's attractive, but he is HILARIOUS. I had two dreams that we got married prior to my actual wedding, and after seeing Tenacious D in concert, I am even more infatuated) and Ben Harper is damn sexy. I wanted him to remove his shirt while he was singing. I am sad to say that he didn't.
• We left Adam with my parents for four days to celebrate Tonya and Sam’s reception out in Idaho this September. They were happy to spend time with him and even more happy to hand him over upon our return. What can I say? The kid is adorable, smart, and funny, but he's also a lot of work.
While out in Idaho, we drank a lot, ate a lot, celebrated Tonya and Sam’s union at a beautiful reception (this was just the reception. Their wedding was out in New York City in June, and I was lucky enough to be part of that celebration, too), hiked around part of Lake Coeur D’Alene, went shopping in town, and went on a boat tour. In our group there were nine of us from Minnesota, two from Wisconsin, three from San Diego, one from Colorado, one from DC, and two from Illinois. We had a great time. Those memories will stay with me until I’m old and grey.


I also:
• Was asked to be my good friend Amy’s matron of honor in her wedding this May (she asked both me and our mutual friend Megan). I was flattered and honored.
• Joined a book club with my cousins and a few of their friends. So far, so good. Our first book was Twilight (go vampires!) Now we’re reading Love in the Time of Cholera. I also just finished Middlesex. Interesting book, to say the least.
• Went to Lutsen Resort with my immediate family, thanks to the generosity of my parents. Went kayaking, played disc golf, engaged in a few rowdy games of Apples to Apples, went swimming, searched for agates on the beach (Adam still loves looking for rocks), roasted marshmallows by a bonfire, and went on a guided night hike in Oberg Mountain. We stayed in one of the “luxurious” Cliff House Townhomes. I highly recommend it.
• Scored free tickets to the Renaissance Festival and celebrated the end of summer with my parents, Shawn, Trish, April, Aaron and Adam. I sum it up this way: delicious turkey legs, over-priced ale, cleavage, belly dancers, jousting, cleavage, strolling magicians, dust, bees, elephant rides, cleavage, role-playing lords and ladies, cleavage, and a mix of artisans, athletes, historians, dreamers, geeks, and people who wish Halloween lasted all year long.
• Made it to the semi-finals in a “Slapnuts” tournament (aka ladder golf, hillbilly horseshoes, testie toss), organized as an MS fundraiser by our wonderful North Star Roller Girl pal Mandi (aka Mickey Dismantle, co-captain of the Banger Sisters). Her friends were just as friendly and entertaining as she is. Aaron wore Adam in the Kelty backpack the whole time we competed. Our nickname was “Team Baby” and I gotta say, we were a force to reckon with.
• Had the use of The Retreat in Webster, Wis. during an autumn weekend when the leaves were at their peak of prettiness and the weather was nice enough to leave your jacket behind. We brought Shawn and Trish for an evening of cooking/eating, drinking, relaxing, playing games, and reveling in the beauty and silence of Mother Nature. Adam liked it there, too.
• Mourned the end of another fun kickball season.
• Helped throw a big party for my grandma’s 80th birthday.
• Went to a pumpkin-carving party at my former boss Stacey's house. Her friends were extremely nice and very intellectual.
• Helped elect our next president!!!
• Took a little road trip to Green Bay to visit Holly and Kevin, Kay and Joe, and Julie and Jim. Between those three college friends, they have NINE kids (one is still in utero). I am always sick of green and gold when I leave GB, but so glad to spend quality time with good friends from college.
• Organized a group of girlfriends to host monthly theme dinners during the long, cold winter. Successfully co-hosted Brazilian night with my friend Christine. (complete with Spanish guitar music, photos of hot Brazilian men/soccer players/ and sunny beaches plastered around her loft, and a menu of chicken empadinhas, caipirinhas with Cachaca, cocoa cake, and fruit dipped in chocolatey brigadeiro! Mmm mmm mmm)
• Got together at Katie's loft with wonderful Lillie friends (I love my CAKE girls, crazy Scott and J-dog!)
•Started having a solid night's sleep (finally!) after nearly 23 months. Either I was losing sleep due to being pregnant, nursing a newborn, or sharing our not-very-big bed with a restless baby.
After having Adam, I will never, ever again underestimate the value of a decent night's sleep.

And if tonight my soul may find her peace
in sleep, and sink in good oblivion,
and in the morning wake like a new-opened flower
then I have been dipped again in God, and new-created.
~D.H. Lawrence

Ok, so maybe that poem is a LITTLE much, but hey, I've been sleep deprived for NEARLY TWO YEARS STRAIGHT.

I also like this quote:

Sleep is the golden chain that ties health and our bodies together. ~Thomas Dekker

And this one makes me laugh:

If people were meant to pop out of bed, we'd all sleep in toasters.


Good night, friends. Sweet dreams.

Blowin' my mind for the third time

There are many aspects of my teen years that I don’t have any desire to re-live.
Last night, though, I felt like I was in a time warp back to the early 90s and I was lovin’ it. I was invited to the NKOTB concert at the Xcel Energy Center—free ticket—and had a BLAST. There was a group of 13 of us in a corporate suite (with our very own bathroom, snack bar, and private space to jump around in), we pre-partied at a friend’s house, then kept the party going at the X. I promise I'm not an obsessed fan, aka "a blockhead"—I don't even know their most recent/popular song—but with the energy so electric, it was hard not to get caught up in it. It helped that the guys look and sound better than ever. I think the 13,000 screaming fans would agree with me. And could those women scream, although—unlike the early 90s—I don't think anyone was reduced to hysterical tears (I hope, anyhow, for their sake).
It was fun to see 20-and 30-something women all decked out in T-shirts and hats that said things in puffy paint like: “I’ll be lovin’ you forever,” “Joey’s Girl,” and “I Love Jordan.” Some of the T-shirts were originals from the early 90s, all faded and worn and probably not fitting quite the same as they did 20 years ago, and some of the buttons and T-shirts were from their 2008 tour—emphasizing the handsome grown-up NKOTB rather than the bubblegum baby-faced pop stars New Kids on the Block.
They may have a new name (sort of) and they may be pushing 40, but they really haven’t changed all that much. The boys—Danny (still the sort of ugly one), Jon (the shy one/now the gay one), Donnie (the bad boy), Jordan (the cute one) and Joey (the adorable one with the piercing blue eyes)—sang songs from their old records (Favorite Girl, Step by Step, Hangin’ Tough, You Got It (The Right Stuff), Cover Girl, Please Don’t Go Girl, Tonight, Games, etc.), changed costumes multiple times, and danced in perfect synchronicity. These five (or really three, when you consider the fact that Donnie, Joey and Jordan are really the main attractions) knew how to get the crowd going and KEEP the crowd going. In their hey-dey, they performed close to 200 (!!) concerts per YEAR. In 1991, they made more money than Michael Jackson, Madonna and Prince. That same year, sales for the group’s merchandise were estimated at $400 million. (I admit it. I had the pillowcases, a poster, and a T-shirt.)
The New Kids have a special place in my heart for being my first concert ever. I saw them in St. Paul with my friend Karla when we were 14. We wore florescent windbreakers, Exclamation! perfume, and hair-dos that consisted of frizzy puffs of bangs and French braids secured with a scrunchie on the bottom. Karla’s dad dropped us off and picked us up, so there was no parental supervision. I can’t remember details of the concert, but I remember the feeling. I thought I was on top of the world.
On July 4, 1990 my closest high school friends (still some of my closest friends today) Karla, Amy, Tonya and I went to see the New Kids again at Harriet Island. The concert planners weren’t thinking logically when they decided on festival seating. Once the gate swung open, thousands of teenage girls ran like a herd of delirious cattle in the quest to find the closest spots on the lawn. As you can imagine, it was pure pandemonium. I think a few girls were even injured in the stampede. My good friend Amy lost a shoe in the madness. Lucky for her, I had an extra pair in my Esprit bag. (Who carries around an extra pair of shoes??) As the afternoon went on, we somehow made it into the VIP section where there were benches rather than the grassy lawn. We could see much better. Another of our high school friends, Treina, saw us from across the fence and started crying and yelling, “I love them more than you!” Once again, I don’t remember much of the actual concert, but I remember feeling blissfully HAPPY.
I also remember blowing my nose that night and getting a Kleenex full of dirt.
Fast-forward to 2008 and there I was again, at a New Kids show, surrounded by one-time boy-crazy girls who knew all the words to the old songs, girls who came of age around the same time I did. It was kind of surreal to think that these one-time boy-crazy girls have evolved into women with careers and financial responsibilities and mortgages and husbands and BABIES (!!), women who probably couldn’t fit into their 14-year-old jeans (sigh) but who can now legally drive, vote, gamble, and order a drink from the bar (woo hoo!) Women who no longer have to IMAGINE what true love is—we now know from experience—yet can still appreciate the innocence and fun of our first boy-band crush.
It was truly an awesome night.

Can she see dead people?

I went to a work-sponsored luncheon yesterday and the speaker was a “fifth generation natural-born psychic.” She’s a 60-year-old dynamo with a mane of crazy black hair and some of the littlest chicken legs I’ve ever seen (she’s a staunch vegetarian) and when she spoke, she was energetic, passionate, and crass (she dropped the f-bomb a few times and—while wearing a short skirt, no less—occasionally sat very, um, UN-lady-like in her chair. Think Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct). She’s an unapologetic strong-willed product of the 60s who brought to mind the expression “full of spit and vinegar.” It seemed like every woman in the audience was intrigued.
After she told us about her life, and how she developed her sixth sense, she took questions from the audience. One woman asked how she could quiet the noise in her head in order to meditate (since this woman had grown up Catholic, the psychic suggested reciting an old Catholic prayer over and over), another asked how a woman can develop her intuition (start with small things, like the outcome of a baseball game, before trying to tackle big, personal issues), another asked if a baby was in her near future (eventually, the psychic told her, but not until she visits another country first). The moderator of the luncheon asked if she’s ever seen ghosts (yes) and HOW, exactly, she knew she had this rare sixth sense (“You know how some people are natural writers or artists or dancers? I was a natural psychic. I just knew. I had the gift.”)
And then it got really interesting. One of my coworkers asked the psychic if she could “invite her in” to “read her aura” (the psychic had explained early on that she won’t read someone’s aura or palm or cards unless first given permission) and the psychic told her that she sensed there was a lot of pressure to have a baby. She then told her that she kept hearing the name Mary. “I can’t think of anyone named Mary,” my coworker answered. “Do you mean my MARRIAGE? I’m MARRIED.” No, no, it was a woman named Mary.
Knowing this particular (adorable) coworker and knowing a little about her relationship, it sure seemed like she was looking for some type of validation ABOUT her marriage. Instead the psychic told her that her husband is “really cute” and “they’d have a baby girl together.” Not quite the answer she was hoping for.
Another coworker, who looks very Italian, was asked if she knows a Tony. (What Italian doesn’t know a Tony?) Her brother happens to be Tony. The psychic then said that her brother felt tormented by her when they were growing up (her brother is 13 years younger than she is, there was no tormenting/teasing, just babysitting). She also said this coworker wanted to be a lawyer because she was always asking questions (she said she has never been interested in law), mentioned a tennis racket (huh?) and said she was scared of doctors (on some level, who isn’t?)
Another coworker asked if her husband should open his own deli in the skyway (the answer was yes) and yet another was told to re-do her stairwell (um, not really possible, since she rents an apartment). When a CLEARLY foreign woman “invited her to read her aura,” the psychic immediately asked, “How many languages do you speak?” (anyone could’ve figured out she speaks at least two) and when the psychic asked another woman how many kids she has, and the woman said she doesn’t have kids, the psychic blamed it on the fact that the woman’s table-mate was sitting too close to her and her “aura was bleeding” over to the next chair, which is why she was picking up her aura instead of the woman in question.
I don’t want to sound TOO cynical (is it too late for that?) but I have a hard time believing that this woman could look at a total stranger and sum up her life in a matter of seconds. There’s a part of me that WANTS to believe she really can “read” a person’s aura somehow, and there’s a part of me that thinks maybe some people really do have the ability to tap into their sixth sense (Gary Spivey is not one of them, I’m thinking more along the lines of psychics who help solve police mysteries), and there’s an even bigger part of me that’s like: You believers are GULLIBLE. I can’t blame them for eating it up, though. I keep thinking about Whoopi’s character Oda May Brown in the movie Ghost. Who doesn’t want to believe that living people can somehow communicate with the dead? Who doesn’t want affirmation that their dearly departed loved ones are safely on the “other side”? Who doesn’t want to think that a stranger might have the uncanny ability to see into our future and read us better than even we can read ourselves?
I used to watch John Edwards’ show “Crossing Over” until my husband asked me why this LEGITIMATE psychic was on the Science Fiction channel? He had a point. And then I later read somewhere that all of his shows are heavily edited to get rid of the “misses” – leaving the viewer with a sense that he’s never wrong about anyone, when in reality he has just as many misses as he does “hits.”
On the flip side, the psychic was extremely entertaining AND she donated all proceeds to a wonderful children’s nonprofit organization in town, and for that I commend her.

So much for man's best friend

Let's just hope his bark is worse than his bite.



I normally love dogs. I grew up with a springer spaniel, Bandit, and later in life my parents had a Dalmatian, Lucky. I see my brother's dog, Bella, at least once (if not twice) a month. I have grown to love my friends' labs, setters, beagles, pugs, terriers, poodles, chihuahuas, collies, boxers, bulldogs, greyhounds, and mutts of all sizes. If we weren't always on the go, we'd get a dog. Most of them are loving, gentle, and playful. Yesterday was the first time I have ever felt threatened by a dog.

Around 7 a.m., as I was taking out the garbage in the back alley, I was startled by a loud (ferocious-sounding) bark. When I turned around, I was “greeted” not so pleasantly by our neighbor’s Rottweiler, Molly. (I only know her name because I hear the neighbors yelling at her so often.) She was growling/snarling at me (teeth bared and all) and within seconds I was cornered by my garage. My heart started racing. She did NOT look like she wanted to “play.” What do I do, what do I do? Wait here in the hopes that someone will be leaving for work and "rescue me"? Make a run for the house? Throw a dirty diaper at her head?

I had read somewhere that you’re not supposed to make eye contact, so I didn’t (making eye contact gives dogs the idea that you’re a threat). She kept growling and barking at me, which only elevated my blood pressure. I also remembered that you’re not supposed to panic. Animals sense fear. (I tried to stay calm but ohmygod was I freaking out inside.) I told Molly to “GO HOME!” a few times, hoping it would throw her off. I didn’t run away (I didn't want her to chase me) but instead stood perfectly still for what felt like forever, then walked, slowly, to the gate that was my refuge to safety. Amazingly, she kept her distance. Once I shut the gate, she sort of lunged for me and then, just as quickly as she'd run up on me, bolted off to terrorize someone/something else. In retrospect, I probably should’ve called the police. This isn’t the first time this not-so-friendly dog has been seen roaming around.

I was going to go right to work, but I thought I should warn Aaron and Adam. My hands were shaking so hard I could hardly unlock the front door. Once I was in my kitchen, I started sobbing. My nerves were shot. My heart was still pounding. Aaron was in the kitchen, getting ready to bring Adam to daycare, and I think I startled him more than Molly startled me. He consoled me like any good husband would. Adam looked at me with genuine concern in those big blue eyes and gave me a sympathetic smile (maybe that was just my imagination, but it’s a nice thought that he might have sensed my distress and tried to make me feel better.) It took me awhile to regain my composure, but after a minute I stopped shaking. I was still wiping tears from my eyes as I drove to the park and ride. Aggressive dogs scare the crap out of me. And there’s no shortage of aggressive dogs in our neighborhood. On our half-mile walk to Lake Phalen, we pass two Rotts and two Pit Bulls. They sound like they want to rip your throat out when you walk by.

The good news is, I survived to tell the story. The bad news is, not everyone does. Here are some pointers on what you should do, should you ever be cornered by a big, mean dog (and I truly hope you never are!), courtesy of “How to Handle a Dog Attack:"

Most dogs are not aggressive but rather just curious or defending what they perceive as their territory. It is important to be able to tell if a dog is just playing or is being truly aggressive.

* If the dog approaches you with its head held high or low, it is probably not going to attack. A dog whose head is level means business.
* A loping gait means the dog is playful and checking you out. An even, steady run means business.

If the dog lunges, place a direct hard kick to the chin, that can stop even a big dog in mid-lunge. If you miss, then protect your face and neck. If the dog is now biting you, poke the dog in the eyes as hard as you can with fingers/thumb, ... do it again -- harder! Judo chops may be easier and more effective than fists at hard angles up close.

If the dog is biting, the last thing you want to do is struggle or pull away, as this can cause open, torn wounds. If you stay still and protect your ears, face, chest, and throat, the dog will only be able to inflict puncture wounds on areas of your body that have thicker skin.

If the dog is biting someone else, do not pull the victim away for the very same reason. Try to force your arm in the dog's mouth. Push your arm in forcefully towards the throat to minimize damage to yourself. If you have time, wrap your arm in a shirt or jacket first.

If the dog bites you, remember that one of the most sensitive spots on a dog is his eyes. A quick jab in the eye will seriously disorientate a dog, allowing you more time to defend yourself.

Year in Review

Aug. 11 marked one year since Adam arrived. A YEAR. Happy birthday, Baby Boy!

In some ways it seems like a year, in other ways it seems like just yesterday. I can remember— with crystal clear accuracy—various details, while other “milestone moments” are a complete blur. It’s a good thing I recorded events in Adam’s baby book.

I recapped the "Year in Review" with photos, but for this post I'm going to go even further back than that, to when Adam was a teeny, tiny bundle of cells.

After writing a series of stories on infertility at the newspaper, I realize now that all of the stars basically have to be aligned in order to conceive a child, and I feel very fortunate that I didn’t have any problems getting pregnant. And even though Aaron and I were ready to have a baby, I was definitely in denial about being pregnant right up until I peed on the stick. Even when a plus sign showed up—as obvious as obvious could be—I read the directions about 100 times thinking it might be due to some fluke. (Lots of info about false negatives, not so much about false positives.)
Once I was able to comprehend the fact that we had created life (this still amazes me) I had a fairly textbook pregnancy, no morning sickness, headaches, back pain, or severe swelling. I ate pretty much what I wanted, with the exception of those few foods all pregnant women should avoid like fish (high levels of mercury can cause brain damage in a developing fetus), deli meat (Listeriosis, a form of food poisoning, can harm the fetus) and soft cheeses (unpasteurized cheese can harbor bacteria). I didn’t go through any sort of caffeine or nicotine withdrawal since I don’t drink coffee or smoke, and I didn’t really miss my friend Alcohol like I thought I would. I felt BEYOND tired those first few weeks—not just your run-of-the-mill tired, but the “I’m recovering from the worst hangover of my life and I could sleep for a week” variety of tired—but that’s a common complaint during the first trimester. Nothing out of the ordinary. The worst part of pregnancy for me was the mental anxiety. I became a pro at playing the dreaded “what if” game. What if there isn’t a heartbeat? What if my baby has a developmental issue? What if I have gestational diabetes? What if I’m put on bed rest? What if the baby arrives too soon? What if, what if, what if. I drove myself insane. Aaron finally had to tell me to stop obsessing and chill out. I couldn't stop thinking about my good friends who had suffered miscarriages and my college friend who went through the devastating heartbreak of losing a nearly full-term baby boy (due to a knot in the umbilical cord). But if it's going to happen, it's entirely out of our control, Aaron rationalized. All we can do is make healthy choices and hope for the best. And if something does happen, we will lean on each another, grieve our loss, then move on and try again. Yes, yes, yes, I knew that. But with every passing week I grew more and more attached. It was our baby, but it was my body, and I couldn’t escape my irrational fears. They followed me everywhere.
I felt like a manic depressive when Aug. 4—my estimated due date—came (woo hoo!!! The magical date had finally arrived!) and went (more waiting).
Adam finally arrived on Aug. 11, 2007, exactly one week past his due date, also known as The Longest Week of my Life. I'll spare you the details about my labor and delivery, but I will say—for anyone who wonders what a “real” contraction feels like—let me put it bluntly: It’s a sharp, intense pain that radiates through your stomach before hardening into a ball around your baby. You cannot have a conversation while having a contraction. It’s about a million times worse than a menstrual cramp.
Also? Bring music and Chapstick to the delivery room, and GET AN EPIDURAL.

Adam was 7 lbs. 10 oz. and 21 inches long with dark hair and olive-colored skin and a cute button nose and my dad's chin and MY GOD he was beautiful. The nurse cleaned up our baby before tightly wrapping him in a white receiving blanket and placing him on my chest. When Adam stared at me and let out a loud wail, I started crying. I looked up at Aaron and realized he was crying too. It was all so much to process. We were weeping out of happiness (we had a baby!), and a little bit of fear (we had a baby!), and because that beautiful, healthy little boy was our SON.

“I had a good life
Before you came
I had my friends and my freedom
I had my name
But this love is like nothing I have ever known
Come with me, son
I’m taking you home”

What a year it's been since that amazing day. And even with sleep deprivation, a ridiculous nursing schedule (every two hours), pumping at work, skipping out on happy hours, and basically adjusting to the "new normal," I have no regrets. It's been a wonderful year of milestone moments (Was that a smile? Did he just roll over? Look! A tooth! Now that we've weaned him to regular formula, is that a rash!? What? He's allergic to cow's milk? Let's see how he likes baby food. He's sitting up! When is this kid going to crawl? What do you call that? Adam, you like to splash in our tiny sink, why won't you splash in a giant swimming pool? He's flirting with another pretty girl! He's chasing the cat! He's dancing! He's crawling on all fours! He said "Mama, Dadda, Kitty, Nigh-Nigh, Bye-Bye!" He's pulling himself up!) and on and on.
I'm proud to be Adam's mom, and look forward to many more milestone moments in the future. This is only the beginning.