Jack-Jack & His Play Gym

Jackson discovered his Play Gym today. He was reaching out and grabbing the toys, cooing, and just generally having a good ol' time. I wanted to share some pictures of our precious boy. On an unrelated note, get ready for the roll out of a brand new blog very soon....the Lester sisters are conspiring to bring you a celebration of sisterhood! Here's Jack-Jack:

My Boys:

Beautiful Boy

Just wanted to post a few more pictures of our beautiful boy we took over the past week...

Sitting in his boppy pillow...

Mom is now officially "Nonna" (like her name, Donna with an "n"). So, this is Nonna holding her grandboy Grandad walking and rocking the boy to sleep...

Little eyes peaking over Grandad's shoulder...

Bright-eyed for Nonna...

Baby Jackson's First Week of Life

Joshua and I welcomed our son, Jackson James Allison, at 5:57 PM on Friday, August 28, 2009. He weighed 7 lbs. and was 18.25 inches long. He has a little blonde hair and blue eyes. Thank you to our precious family and friends for all of the love, support, food, and laundry during the past ten days! Here are some of the first photos of his first week of life:

Joshua and his Grammy Evelyn holding Jackson. She brought us delicious homemade soup and banana bread during her visit!

Grammy Evelyn and her great grandson, Jackson James.

My parents and the happy grandparents looking at our beautiful boy...

His outfit has Darth Vader on it and says, "My Dad Rules the Galaxy." Clearly, this is Joshua's favorite baby outfit.

Grandma Donna gives Jackson his second bath!

Both of the my boys sleeping on the couch....

I hesitated to post any naked baby pictures, but this look of distress during bath time is classic Jackson. Look at his wrinkled forehead!

My Meme and Papa hold their great grandson...

Auntie Em holds her new nephew...

Auntie Em (in my TU hoodie) snuggles her nephew. He loved Auntie Em (and the soft, fluffy sweatshirt).

Precious Sleeping Boy...

Tummy time with Dad

Grandma Janelle gives Jack-Jack his morning bath

Grandma Donna makes a return visit to the farm to see her boy...

Handsome Jack

Another Life Lesson for Jackson: Music is the Soundtrack of Life

It has been awhile since I last poured out my soul on the Bristow Blog. During the past month, I have endured a bit of a professional identity crisis coupled with some workplace drama certainly blog worthy but best kept to myself. The root of the crisis remained: Do I really want to do this for the rest of my professional life? After plenty of angst compounded by my impending motherhood, I think I finally have my answer, and I look forward to moving on to more meaningful pursuits. I am, after all, preparing for the most important job I will ever have. Even though the salacious details of my workplace drama just seem the write the blog entry effortlessly, I think this cursory comment will be the last word from me on that particular subject. On to less serious subjects…..

Recently, I had a bit of a spiritual experience at a Fleetwood Mac concert. I went crazy and purchased several CDs, and I have to admit that I still lose my breath a little when I hear Stevie Nicks sing “Landslide” or “Silver Springs.” My sister and fellow blogger, Emily, shares my enthusiasm for both classic and popular music. You will recall her fantastic guest blog entry about the significance of the life-changing tune, “Don’t Stop Believing’” by Journey. For the Lester girls, music is the soundtrack of our lives. We hear certain songs on the radio, and we think of a particular person, a particular moment, a particular feeling etched in our consciousness. Now, these fuzzy memories need not always be so serious: Emily and I went through a phase where we left full songs on one another’s voicemail….songs that we hated, songs that were vastly overplayed on popular radio, songs like “Maria” by Carlos Santana and “Hero” by Enrique Iglesias. Recently, we involved our friend, Lindsay, in the voicemail pranks, and the dreadful song of choice was “Fall for You” by Secondhand Serenade. In short, even bad music adds a little comedy and flavor to our relatively boring lives!

I hope that Jackson shares our appreciation for spiritual songs, silly songs and songs that speak to the soul. Most importantly, I hope he shares our broad appreciation for music from different time periods and genres. As a firm “music is the soundtrack of life” believer, I judge people that listen exclusively to music without much depth. It makes me suspicious about the heart of their life experience, the depth of their feeling, their insight, their character. That’s right. I said it. People that listen only to country music...I’m speaking directly to you. I make that statement, however, as a casual fan of country music. It is, after all, sort of the soundtrack of the American Midwestern and Southern life, and I am equally skeptical of people that spurn the entire genre. When you are sitting at the lake, having barbeque with the people you love, it seems only appropriate to have a little Kenny Chesney playing the background. Who doesn’t get a little goofy when they hear “Ring of Fire?” What Oklahoman can honestly listen to “The Change” without getting teary-eyed? For the most part, however, when I am in the middle of a life-changing time, lyrics about Yoo Hoo bottles rolling around on the floorboard of the car, putting a boot up the you-know-what of a terrorist, and leaving your Christmas lights up all year long just do not suffice. I’m confident I will get a comment or two about bashing the music of the Sooner State. Country music, like pop music, even rap music, has its purpose and its place in my life experience. I hope my readers will interpret my colorful comments as a promotion of musical diversity, appreciating the purpose of all genres, rather than an indictment of those that happen to like a little Trace Adkins. Yikes, bad example, Trace Adkins? Maybe I do judge….nevermind.

Emily and I started talking the other day about songs that Jackson should know as I am determined not to listen to a Barney CD during every car trip. Our discussion broadened into a debate about songs that characterized our life experiences, and I wanted to write this blog entry in order to initiate a bit of a discussion about the songs that inspired my readers. For example, every time I hear “Good Riddance” by Green Day (a band I loathe save this one song) and “Run” by Collective Soul, I think about how it felt to be 18 years old, getting ready to graduate from high school, moving on to the University of Tulsa. Mom confided that every time she felt contemplative during her life, she always appreciated the music of Cat Stevens. Joshua mentioned that every time he hears “The Luckiest” by Ben Folds Five, he thinks about us. Conversely, every time I hear Michael Bolton’s horrible rendition of “When a Man Loves a Woman,” I think about us and how the disc jockey at our wedding messed up our selected song for the first dance (“You are the Love of My Life” by Michael W. Smith and Jim Brickman) and played that monstrosity instead. Despite the drama of the moment, this hellacious song choice did make for some terrific wedding pictures during our first dance as we laughed uncontrollably.

So, Emily and I wanted to share with you some of the songs that shaped our experiences, and we hope that you will join in a lively discussion about the songs that shaped yours. Here are the current winners along with a lyric sample to support the selection:

Most Inspirational Song: “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey
Lyric Sample: “Working hard to get my fill. Everybody wants a thrill. Paying anything to roll the dice just one more time.”
Lauren’s Honorable Mention: “Dream On” by Aerosmith
Lyric Sample: “Half my life’s in books’ written pages. Live and learn from fools and from sages. You know it’s true. All the things come back to you.”
Emily’s Honorable Mention: “Dead and Gone” by T.I. (Because Emily roots for the reformed little gangsters….)
Lyric Sample: “Time to think before I make mistakes just for my family’s sake. That part of me left yesterday. The heart of me is strong today. No regrets, I’m blessed to say, the old me, dead and gone away.”

Best Break-Up Song: “You Oughta Know” by Alanis Morissette
Lyric Sample: “And every time I run my nails down someone else’s back, I hope you feel it.”
Lauren’s Honorable Mention: “Untouchable Face” by Ani DiFranco
Lyric Sample: “Think I’m going for a walk now. I feel a little unsteady. Don’t want nobody to follow me...except maybe you. I could make you happy if you weren’t already. I could a lot of things and I do.”
Emily’s Honorable Mention: “Single Ladies” by Beyonce
Lyric Sample: “If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it…” Overplayed, but right on.

Best Change of Life Song: “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac
Lyric Sample: “Well, I’ve been afraid of changing cause I’ve built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older, and I’m getting older too.”
Lauren’s Honorable Mention: “Good Riddance” by Green Day (So cliché but I couldn’t help myself).
Lyric Sample: “Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road. Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go. So make the best of this test, and don’t ask why. It’s not a question but a lesson learned in time.”
Emily’s Honorable Mention: “Tapestry” by Carol King
Lyric Sample: “My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hues, an everlasting vision of the ever-changing view.”

Best “I Still Love You” Song: “Silver Springs” by Fleetwood Mac
Lyric Sample: “I’ll follow you down till the sound of my voice will haunt you. You’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you.”
Lauren’s Honorable Mention: “Stay” by Lisa Loeb & the Nine Stories
Lyric Sample: “You said that I was naïve. I thought that I was strong. I thought, ‘Hey, I can leave, I can leave,” but now I know that I was wrong cause I missed you.”
Emily’s Honorable Mention: “Split Screen Sadness” by John Mayer
Lyric Sample: “I know it was me who called it over, but I still wish you’d fought me ‘til your dying day. Don’t let me get away.”

Best Moody Broody Song: “Come Pick Me Up” by Ryan Adams
Lyric Sample: “I wish you’d make up my bed so I could make up my mind. Try it for sleeping instead. Maybe you’ll rest sometime. I wish I could.”
Lauren’s Honorable Mention: “Harder Now That It’s Over” by Ryan Adams
Lyric Sample: “It’s harder now that it’s over now that the cuffs are off. And you’re free. You’re free with a history.”
Emily’s Honorable Mention: “Fix You” by Coldplay
Lyric Sample: “When you try your best but you don’t succeed, when you get what you want but not what you need.”

Best Female Empowerment Song: “Like a Prayer” by Madonna (Only the Kappa ladies will understand….)
Lyric Sample: “Life is a mystery. Everyone must stand alone. I hear you call my name and it feels like home.”
Lauren’s Honorable Mention: “Strong Enough” by Sheryl Crow
Lyric Sample: “I have a face I cannot show. I make the rules up as I go. So try and love me, if you can. Are you strong enough to be my man?”
Emily’s Honorable Mention: “Overprotected” by Britney Spears (Emily’s 10th grade anthem)
Lyric Sample: “Say hello to the girl that I am! You’re gonna have to see through my perspective. I need to make mistakes just to learn who I am, and I don’t wanna be so damn protected.”

Best Song with Family Significance: “Brown-Eyed Girl” by Van Morrison (Our Mom’s Song)
Lyric Sample: “Our hearts a thumpin’ and you, my brown-eyed girl. You, my brown-eyed girl.” Lauren’s Honorable Mention: “Knocks Me Off by Feet” by Stevie Wonder (Dad’s song to Mom)
Lyric Sample: “I don’t want to bore you with my trouble, but there’s something about your love that makes me weak and knocks me off my feet.”
Emily’s Honorable Mention: “Carolina on my Mind” by James Taylor (The song Dad played when he taught Emily to drive)
Lyric Sample: “In my mind I’m going to Carolina, can’t you feel the sunshine? Can’t you just feel the moonshine?”

Best Romantic Song: The Lester girls are not romantic. We tend to expect the boys to come up with something spectacular here. Yes, we have high expectations, and we are quite spoiled. We refuse to apologize for this, but nonetheless, we have nothing really to contribute for this category. We just weren’t wired to be sappy, overly girly females. See Female Empowerment Category.
Lauren’s Honorable Mention: “The Luckiest” by Ben Folds (This is Joshua’s favorite and he is the more romantic of the Allison pair!)
Lyric Sample: “And where was I before the day that I first saw your lovely face? Now I see it everyday, and I know that I am, I am, I am the luckliest.”
Emily’s Honorable Mention: “At Last” by Billie Holiday
Lyric Sample: “At last my love has come along, my lonely days are over and life is like a song.”

Best Romancin’ Song: “Sun Comes Up” by John Legend
Lyric Sample: “Wait a minute, baby, I’m not through. I intend to spend more than one night with you. A love affair that never ends, like the old song says, ‘let’s do it again.’ ”
Lauren’s Honorable Mention: “I’m on Fire” by Bruce Springsteen
Lyric Sample: “At night, I wake up with the sheets soaking wet and a freight train running through the middle of my head. Only you can cool my desire. Oh, oh, oh, I’m on fire.”
Emily’s Honorable Mention: “Like a Virgin” by Madonna (because everything I picked for this category, Lauren laughed at)
Lauren’s Commentary Re: Emily's Honorable Mention: Pick something that isn’t the sexual equivalent of Elton John music, and I won’t laugh at you. Your lack of smoothness makes this song your perfect choice! I love my sweet little sister!
Lyric Sample: “I made it through the wilderness, somehow I made it through, didn’t know how lost I was until I found you.”

Best Summertime Song: “Free Fallin’” by Tom Petty
Lyric Sample: “I want to glide down over Mulholland. I want to write her name in the sky. I’m going to free fall out into nothing. Going to leave this world for a while.”
Lauren’s Honorable Mention: “Jack & Diane” by John Mellencamp
Lyric Sample: “Let it rock. Let it roll. Let the Bible Belt come and save my soul. Hold on to sixteen as long as you can. Changes come around real soon make us women and men.”
Emily’s Honorable Mention: “Summer of ‘69” by Bryan Adams
Lyric Sample: “Oh when I look back now, that summer seemed to last forever. And if I had the choice, yeah, I’d always want to be there. Those were the best days of my life.”

We welcome comments and suggestions! We would, however, like to point out the following: Is there a category that couldn’t be settled by simply nominating “Don’t Stop Believing” by Journey? We didn’t think so…..

Mazal Tov! It's a Boy!

For those of you that have been living under a rock, Joshua and I found out last Friday that we are expecting a baby boy. As expected, no child of mine could possibly be shy, and as soon as the doctor pointed the little ultrasound camera at him, he virtually did a handstand and spread his tiny little legs. We have been chuckling at the picture for days, but I have no intention of posting same on this blog. We both surmised that we have the rest of his life to embarrass him, and we do not intend to start by posting a picture of his you-know-what on the World Wide Web. With that, I suppose we must bid adieu to the beloved moniker “Pistachio.” He is now officially Jackson James Allison.

Within hours of the “boy” news, my mother, sister, and I went crazy buying boy clothes, and he is officially going to be the best dressed child in Creek County. He already has a jean jacket, a tiny Chaps sweater vest, camouflage high-top tennis shoes, and a litany of other goodies to make sure he looks like a little man. I noticed that baby clothes, like babies, come in all shapes, colors, designs, and sizes. I do not subscribe to the belief that “all babies are cute,” because for some babies, that is genetically impossible. I take comfort in knowing that even if Jackson is not the cutest baby ever conceived, Joshua and I will be so blinded that we won’t know that. Like babies, not all baby clothes are automatically cute: I have officially decided that I hate overalls, most onesies that look like “typically baby” styles (i.e. a blue onesie covered with graphic pacifiers and rattles), and almost all “character” onesies (i.e. a blue onesie covered with Bugs Bunny and Tweetie Bird). I understand that there are some exceptions to these basic rules, and I realize that I may get some call from some mother who has an adorable picture of her child in corduroy overalls straight out of 1985. Still, I contend that the “blinded by love” factor compromises your ability to see that that dated outfit was and is just plain disgusting. Before I become “blinded by love” and think Jackson looks cute in everything, I am going to preemptively say no to such risky wardrobe selections.

Yesterday, we purchased what Mom has affectionately been referring to as the “Jack-Mobile.” I traded by Nissan Maxima in for a 2008 Ford Escape. Joshua and I decided that we have officially become parents: We traded our nicely-equipped Nissan for a practical, American-made Ford big enough to haul all of the junk that will accompany this tiny person. We really do like the new vehicle, but I was admittedly a little sad to drive away and leave my Maxima behind. I have a feeling this is only the beginning of the process of leaving behind what we want for what is best for Jackson James Allison. I think, however, Joshua and I are both fairly convinced he will be worth all the trouble.

Life Lessons for Pistachio: Don't be a Phone Stalker

On Sunday afternoon, Joshua and I were in the car talking about a certain creep totally lacking in any social graces. This particular creep happens to be the subject of many of our conversations and often said conversations end with one of us saying, “What an [INSERT UGLY AND/OR PROFANE NAME].” During the latest conversation, we wondered out loud: How do tiny little babies evolve into such cretins? Do their parents wholly fail to instruct them about common courtesy? Do they just “come by it honestly” as we say in Creek County? In short, is social retardation nature or nurture?

Although I will not begin to speculate about whether Pistachio comes by his or her future jerkiness honestly (after all, his mother is a lawyer), I believe I can say with confidence that we will do everything possible to instill in Pistachio a few manners in the fleeting hopes that one day he or she will behave with some level of decorum and/or social grace. Today is a Monday at my office, and I am already prepared to offer Pistachio his or her first life lesson in manners: Don’t be a phone stalker.

During my life, I have had my fair share of phone stalkers. I remember one quite vividly: I was in the 6th grade. He went to a local charismatic mega-church. His name sounded like a sneeze. His name was supposedly biblical-You know, one of those names that appears one (1) time in some long list in Judges in the Holy Reformed King Charles Spaniel Unified Revised Canadian Charismatic Version of the text? Although his mother may have believed his name was rooted in the Holy Word, I maintain its origin rested soundly in a sinus infection. I used to imagine the nurse standing over his mother in the delivery room. “What name will be given to this child?” she asked. His mother sneezed, and it stuck like…..well, I digress. This particular phone stalker decided he liked me, and he called my parents’ home telephone number at least twenty-five (25) times in two (2) hours. Each time, he had nothing new to report. He just wanted to see “what was going on.” I loathed him after about two (2) hours and one (1) minute. My feelings were so strong that even as I started writing this column, I shuddered and then laughed at his expense…fourteen (14) years later. The sad thing, however, is that he really was a genuinely nice young man, but after all those phone calls, the recipient thinks you are either a total stalker or moderately retarded. I suspect he was a little of both. Regardless, neither seems conducive to making a good impression on girl.

On my way to adulthood, I encountered several phone stalkers. Many seized upon modern technology (i.e. text messages, instant messages, e-mail) to compound the level of contact with me. I even had one creeper that saved all my e-mails and instant message conversations with him, particularly the last ones when I was telling him rather emphatically never to call me again. When I became a professional, I discovered that physical maturity does not necessarily weed out the teenage phone stalkers. In a professional setting, however, they up their game. First, whenever they call, it is ALWAYS an emergency, and they must speak with me directly. They are distrustful of my assistant, because after all, I admittedly do not return each and every one (1) of the thirteen (13) calls they placed to my office yesterday. It must be that she is failing to give me the message. It certainly could not be that I am absolutely not interested in hearing about how your former spouse sent you a “mean” text message about your dog after you told her that her cat looked overweight. A phone stalker never truly needs a lawyer. They need a baby-sitter.

During a moment of total stupidity on my part, I once gave a potential phone stalker (not a client, mind you) my mobile telephone number. He called me seven (7) times on Sunday afternoon to tell me that his child was throwing up at a local amusement park, and he wanted to know if I was going to hold the child’s mother accountable for his physical condition. The child ate two (2) baskets of chili cheese nachos and an entire package of cotton candy before jumping on a roller coaster in 100 degree temperatures, but phone stalker thought mom was to blame for a little upset stomach. Frankly, if the child eats all that garbage before hopping on an amusement ride, he sounds just like a chip off the old block, as we say in Creek County. Give him a few years….he’ll be calling me every fifteen (15) minutes after his baby mama gets a protective order against him for stalking. He will become one of those folks that appear on the Caller ID, and I literally cringe.

I was watching The Office last night on my laptop, and in this particular episode, Michael Scott gives his assistant, Pam, a list of excuses to give people if they call him. For example, “I’m sorry Michael can’t come to the phone. He’s at a Civil Rights Rally” or “Michael isn’t available. He’s having a colonoscopy.” I am thinking about starting my own list for phone stalkers, a list of items that might make the phone stalker feel as uncomfortable and/or astonished as I feel while on the line with them: “I’m sorry Lauren isn’t available. Her goldfish died last night, and she is taking a bereavement day.” Perhaps, “I’m sorry, Lauren is out of the office today for her annual pap smear” or “I’m sorry, Lauren had a nervous breakdown and lost her ability to hear last night because of all the stupid people that called yesterday. If you have a message for her, submit same in Braille.”

So, Pistachio, one (1) call per day is acceptable. If the call is romantic in nature and you end up being a girl, never, ever call him first. If you call, you need not text, e-mail, and IM as well, and if I catch you, I’m taking your phone away. It’s for your own good. Your mother does not want you to be a social moron.

Ok, life lesson over…..My phone is ringing. And I just got a text. Creeper.

Pistachio's Campaign Slogan.....

Ever since we learned about the impending arrival of little Pistachio Almond Allison, we have done a little bit of baby shopping. Our main purchases thus far have been the little infant one-piece body suits affectionately called "onesies." I recently found one that I knew Joshua would love: It has Darth Vader on it and says, "My Dad Rules the Galaxy." We have another that has a little pink pig on it and says, "Little Ham," and I have already told the Blog world about my green onesie with the bumble bee on the front. It says, "I'm What the Buzz is All About." Joshua found a camo onesie at Kemp's Drug in Bristow that says, "Shhhh....I'm Hiding." We even discovered a UFC onesie that says, "My Dad Can Make Your Dad Tap Out." Needless to say, Joshua feels we cannot have a child without that priceless and um, classy garment. Last week, Joshua and I started laughing about what catch phrases or slogans would be great for a onesie for Pistachio, and I thought I would ask the Blog world to submit a few suggestions. So, post your ideas! We may have to see if we can have a few of these made! I'll start......here is my slogan for Pistachio's onesie:

I am the Next American Idol!

Heifer in the Hay Ring

This is Sophie. She is an adventurous punk with a propensity for getting herself into trouble. Needless to say, she is my favorite. She is also an enthusiastic eater, trying to munch on Joshua’s pants occasionally when he goes out to feed the girls in the evening after work. She escaped one day only to make a beeline for the hay bales we had stacked just outside the fence. Joshua walked the fence multiple times, but he could not find any place where she might have escaped. I believe she saw the hay bales, thought “Jackpot!”, and decided she was going to exit her fenced enclosure. Joshua lured her safely back inside the fence...with food. Today, however, her curiosity and love of food got the better of her once again: I looked out our living room window when I woke up this morning, and I swear, I saw Sophie eating out of the hay ring. A little bit later, I looked outside and she was literally inside the hay ring. We have no idea how she managed to trap herself in the hay ring. I suspect she started leaning farther and farther in the hay ring until she squeezed herself right inside. Farmer Joshua had to go rescue our little free spirit! He received slobbery lick with her huge tongue in gratitude.....

After the rescue!

Pre-Rescue Imprisonment. Doesn't she look like trouble? Her inner monologue: "What? I meant to do this."

One Last Hurrah...

Joshua and I are slowly coming to the realization that our life is about to change, and as excited as we are about Pistachio Almond Allison, we admittedly have had a pretty sweet six and a half years of childfree spontaneity. We invite our friends and family over and act like morons playing Mario Cart and Guitar Hero on the Wii. (Emily did a lovely rendition of “Livin’ on a Prayer” just last night). We stay up late on Saturday nights to watch grown men pound one another to a bloody pulp on Pay-Per-View and then sleep late without remorse. We watch the Dallas Cowboys, eat queso, and drink….soda on Sundays during the fall. During these games, I pace and occasionally use harsh language at full volume, and one time, I was so geared up, I rode the exercise bike in front of the TV for the entire game. We sneak fast food into movie theaters to watch obnoxious actors that used to appear on Saturday Night Live and laugh hysterically without ever wondering, “Is this movie appropriate for children?” We eat exotic things like spicy stir fry with bean sprouts and never dream of baking frozen fish sticks and canned peaches to serve with it. We take off for Tulsa on a Saturday on a whim without loading our vehicle to capacity with car seats and baby gear. We run the vacuum at any time during the day, the dogs growl at every bird in the backyard, and I listen to Sirius Satellite Radio at full volume without consequence. Best of all, every living thing in our residence currently is potty-trained. In short, our early married life has been pretty sweet, and even though I know it is bound to get sweeter, it certainly has been fun while it lasted!

Joshua and I decided a few months ago that we need a vacation. After all, we haven’t been on a real vacation since well, our honeymoon. Since Joshua and I have the same birthday only five years apart, we always do something special around our big day in April, so April seemed like the perfect time for our last rendezvous before Pistachio’s world premiere, especially since my doctor is going to officially ground me around June. We knew we wanted to go some place grown-up, because frankly, the next eighteen (18) years will provide ample opportunities for our family to visit Disneyland and Seaworld. We also knew we had to go somewhere relatively cheap since we have a few major purchases to make before September. It would have to be some place fairly memorable because we know we aren’t going to be doing much vacationing for potentially a few years till Pistachio is old enough to cry with his or her face covered in blue cotton candy while we are sweating bullets in an incredibly long line to ride the Merry-Go-Round at Six Flags Over Texas in August. So, we needed someplace memorable, cheap and grown-up for the soon-to-be parents to relax and play….I mean, did we really have a choice? That’s right….Viva Las Vegas!

I teased Joshua that Las Vegas may not be quite as fun if he has to tote around the pregnant lady with a pooch belly in her Ked’s tennis shoes. He said something charming and sweet about it not being any fun without the pregnant lady, so he is continuing the trend of winning lots of brownie points with his baby mama. We are going to take things very easy: Go casual, visit the spa for a massage, sleep late, order room service, and see a few shows. Most importantly, we will be together and not at work! We made our final plans today and officially booked our hotel and flights. So, how many days until April?

The Concept Looks More Like A Reality....

Since I only have a few minutes, I thought I would relay a quick update on Pistachio Almond Allison who, as you can see, is starting to look less like a blurry blob and more like a tiny baby. We went to the doctor on Friday, and Pistachio is doing just fine. He or She is apparently quite the little wiggle worm! We think he or she is exactly 12 weeks, 3 days today. The heartrate was 157 beats per minute. In all of the pictures, Pistachio has his or her fist up by the face, so we've decided that he or she is either throwing a punch (highly likely with my child) or doing a little fist pump-Both are equally awesome explanations. For the past few weeks, if a peppy song comes on the radio like "Don't Stop Believin,'" I tell Joshua that the baby is fist pumping to the song. Well, I think I have confirmation. This child likes Journey, but really, who doesn't?

Things an Awkward Pregnant Lady Does

Notice the gray cardigan.

First thought that came to mind: Lop-sided.

Last night, I planned on going to see Friday the 13th, and I teased Joshua, who absolutely hates horror movies, that he was going to have to take me. After he sent me a beautiful bouquet of roses yesterday, I started feeling a little guilty about forcing him to see a movie he clearly had no interest in seeing. I’ve been trying to think more like a parent recently, so I decided to get on this website called Kids-In-Mind Movie Reviews to find out how awful this Friday the 13th movie might be. For those that have not visited this website, it provides literally everything that is in any movie, down to the number of swear words, sex scenes, and in terms of Friday the 13th, the number of graphic beheadings. It includes almost every major movie released in the past ten (10) years or so with new releases added each week. So, I looked up Friday the 13th. I won’t tell you everything that was in the movie review itself, but I will tell you that the words “thrust” and “bare-breasted” appeared numerous times….and that was before I even got to the “Violence & Gore” section. This fine film also features fifty-nine (59) F-words! Fifty-Nine! That is just disgusting! Even though my unborn child probably has yet to develop ears, his or her mother decided that we would not be worth risking the possibility that he or she would hear that level of profanity. So, the overbearing and overprotective parenting begins while Pistachio is still in the womb.

Instead of watching the vulgar and potentially pornographic blood bath, we elected to see Confessions of a Shopaholic, a peppy and delightful PG-rated chick flick that I absolutely loved. Joshua was equally unenthused and preferred to remain at the Farm to feed his cows and play computer games. After the beautiful flowers, he effectively earned a pass. Emily, Lindsay, and I headed off for an early movie, and after a quick dinner at Quizno’s, we went the Sapulpa Cinema 8. We loaded up on Hot Tamales and Twizzlers, and then we went to the arcade at the movie theater and played air hockey until, to be honest, we got a little sweaty. During our sweaty air hockey tournament, I started reflecting on our little outing: Three twenty-something girls seeing a 6:45 PM PG movie at a tiny theater in Sapulpa and playing air hockey with reckless abandon on a dirty table covered in greasy fingerprints in an arcade where half of the games are out-of order. I have to admit I loved our awkward and completely random Friday night, and it got me thinking about all of the fabulously awkward and ridiculously uncool things I’ve done since I learned of my oh-so-delicate condition.

• First, I literally have not worn my jeans since I discovered my pregnancy. Instead, I’ve elected to wear some variation of yoga or work pants. I have this complex that the button on my jeans is putting undue pressure on my unborn child’s head. I don’t want our child to come out of womb with “Gap Jeans” emblazoned on its forehead. I feel the same way when I see little babies wearing headbands. That headband could literally be squeezing that child’s brain cells, but its mother thinks (wrongly) that it looks cute so she is willing to take a risk. Well, not me. Pistachio Almond Allison will not be squished by a metal button, and if Pistachio happens to be a girl, she can wear a little pink bow rather than a gaudy polka-dot headband. She will thank me later. My pants, however, are not the trendiest items in my wardrobe. Last weekend, I went to the movie with my buddy, Lisa, in black velour pants, Coach tennis shoes, and my Celine Dion t-shirt. She did not say a word about it, but frankly, I was a little embarrassed for her to be seen with me.


• I wear an oversized, neutral-colored cardigan sweater with almost everything. T-Shirts, dress blouses, tank tops…all are equally complimented by the infamous pregnant lady, gray cardigan. Occasionally, I dress the cardigan up with some oversized matching gray pearls. Other times, I simply embrace the fact that I look like a chubby school marm.


• I eat some variation of a turkey sandwich almost every day. It is a healthy option that does not seem to inspire Pistachio Almond to do water aerobics in my stomach. The people at Subway in the Bristow know me. They practically begin to make the Turkey on Wheat when I walk through the door.


• I eat an inordinate amount of green beans, my very favorite vegetable since I was a little girl. In fact, I have a pot of fresh green beans cooking on my stove as I write this little blog entry. Our unborn child must also be a fan of Hormel and Green Giant.


• I also shuffle to the bathroom several times a night and fight the urge to sleep in my desk chair around 2 PM every day.


• I took a foot stool to my office so I could secretly prop my feet up under my desk while I meet with clients. A friend told me that a little old lady she used to work with had a foot stool like mine under her desk. She probably had orthopedic shoes and a chain for her glasses too. I don’t judge.

This morning, I went to Wal-Mart in Bristow sans make-up in my oversized sweat shirt and yoga pants. I pulled my disheveled bed-head hair into a pony tail without even brushing it. I may or may not have worn a bra. Joshua and I went to grab some groceries for our stay-at-home Valentine’s Day dinner tonight, but I was distracted by the music department. I found a new two disc Celine Dion greatest hits CD, and I was truly overwhelmed. The clerk at Wal-Mart even overcharged me for the CD, but I didn’t care because Celine is worth an extra four dollars. We drove home listening to Celine and Andrea Bocelli at almost full volume, and I may have squeezed out a tiny tear. My feeling is that these little incidents represent only the beginning of what will hopefully be a long road of silly and awkward behavior as a new parent. I take comfort in knowing that it will probably be at least twelve or thirteen more years before Pistachio (with eyes rolling) truly realizes what a weirdo I am.

Superbowl? Yeah, Whatever, Go Cowboys...

I love my Dad. He sent me this picture right before the Superbowl started. I just wanted the blog world to know that I was raised right! I don't care about the Steelers. I hope they lose. I don't care about the Cardinals. I hope they lose less. I don't care if Hines Ward has a killer smile or if Kurt Warner is as charitable as Mother Teresa. If they could both lose in embarrassing fashion, I would be genuinely delighted. I come from a family of true blue Dallas Cowboys fans. I don't care about their drama. We rooted for them when they were 1-15 in 1989 which means we earned the right to talk badly about Tony Romo and T.O. in private (I miss Troy and Michael). We have five Superbowl Rings....so do the Steelers and the 49ers. So, I am begrudingly rooting for the Cardinals tonight. See you next year, Cards and Steelers, when you are both 6 and 10. Go Cowboys!