Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Boy or Girl?

I have a lot of respect for people that wait to find out the sex of their baby until he or she is born.  We have best friends that waited and it was so much fun sitting in the waiting room, everyone guessing, and having the dad come in and tell us.  However, that was never going to be an option for us.  No way.  Waiting until Teddy was born to find out his sex would be like a cruel joke (for me personally).  I need to plan.  I need to prepare.  I need to decorate damn it.
First, let me say that I was absolutely TERRIFIED of having a girl.  Most, if not all, of pregnant women will you give you the token line of, “I don’t care what we have as long as they are healthy and happy.”  Umm…surprise surprise.  I had a preference.  I’m sorry.  I know how selfish and ridiculous it sounds, but it’s the truth.

Before the pregnancy from hell, both of us thought we’d have 3 or 4 kids.  I’m from a large family and I love having two sisters and lots of cousins.  TJ always said he didn’t care how many we had as long as it was more than one.  He’s an only child and said he would never do that to Teddy.  (Every time Teddy wakes up in the middle of the night, I ask him if he wants brothers or sisters because if so, he would go back to sleep).
I’d be fine having a girl, but I just wanted a boy first. Hear me out though, we all know by now that TJ has a huge heart.  A little girl will have him wrapped around her little finger from the second she makes her debut.  Not to mention that my parents and sister are dying for a girl to spoil, so all I could picture was this little girl running around in a princess dress and wand that wouldn’t listen to me.  (I just shuttered). The first time our little girl came home with a broken heart, TJ would have to take a week off of work because he was so sad and I would come home to find them on the couch eating ice cream and watching romantic comedies.  (I just shuttered again). 

We knew we didn’t want to find out the sex in the doctor’s office.  It just seemed like a really intimate moment that we didn’t want to share.  Also, I really didn't want to explain why I burst into tears if they said it was a girl.  (Keep in mind how sick I was and at this point I just really needed something to go my way).  Now that you have the background, let me tell you a little story about how we found out the sex of our sweet little baby.
It was a typical morning.  I’d thrown up a few times already, and had taken the morning off of work because our appointment was the first available.  We arrived eager and anxious.  We told the lady that we didn’t want to find out the sex, but would she please type it on the sonogram and put it in a card that we brought.  We were going to open it later that night, after work, over a nice dinner. 
She puts the icky goo on my stomach and we see our baby.  He went from a blob on the first sonogram to a baby.  I was just shocked.  What did TJ do?  You guessed it, he began sobbing.  He kept saying, “it’s a baby.  A real baby.”  I’m laughing hysterically because honestly, what did he think we were having?  Our doctor peaks her head and in and asks, “Well, what is it?!?!”  I explain to her that we don’t even know yet, but TJ just can’t believe it looks like a baby.  She comes in and gives TJ a huge hug.  She'd never seen a dad get that excited.
Fast forward 15 minutes to the parking lot.  We both look at each other and can’t stand that the answer to this burning question is in a little envelope.  I HAVE to know right then.  He agrees, but first he wanted to pray.  So in the parking lot of the hospital, TJ launches into the longest prayer of his life.  He’s still crying and thanking God for this precious gift of a healthy baby, and asking to be good parents, and yada yada yada.  He says amen and looks up to see me holding the open envelope.  I couldn’t wait.  I promise you it was at least a 10 minute prayer and I just couldn’t stand it any longer, Lord forgive me.  He starts laughing and yelling at me for not waiting for him, but then he can’t stand it and I tell him.  It’s a boy.  

Here are some pics of how we announced we were pregnant and how we announced that he was a boy:

 My favorite florist (who also did my wedding - [The Bloom Closet in Augusta *cough*cough*]) delivered the flowers to my parents and sister that I was pregnant.  She snapped pics of the reactions.  This is why I love being from a small town.  We did the same to tell them we were having a boy.  My poor mom nearly drove to up to the florist because she couldn't stand waiting the extra 10 minutes to find out.

And Andrea's reaction...

We had a modified "stork" announce that we were pregnant to our friends and family.  Scott and TJ drove all over Dallas.  Keeping it classy.  It's says, "It's a baby bitches.  See you in January.  Love, Baby Hurt"
TJ's reaction to having a son.  This was halfway home, on 75.  He had already calmed down and then just spontaneously broke down again. In hindsight, it was VERY dangerous to have him drive home.

We have a running dinner party each week and we announced it to our friends at Taco Thursday.  We baked a fruit pizza and underneath the plate it said, "It's a boy!"  It was so much fun watching them stare at it and see if we had hidden the message in the fruit. Once they figured out it was underneath the fruit pizza they just lifted that bad boy up. 

In fairness, this is what the first sonogram looked like. It's like the Friends episode, "Where's the baby?"

This is the sonogram where TJ freaked out, and said, "It's a baby." No shit, TJ.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Sun Burned

Here’s the thing: I’ve always loved being in the sun.  We were raised old school.  We had to go outside to play even if it was in the oppressive Georgia heat.  Over the years I’ve traded my SPF 4, for sunglasses, a hat, and SPF 15, but 9 times out of 10 if you invite me to the pool/beach/river my answer is yes.  Again, we swore we wouldn't let having a baby change who we were so that meant when we were in Georgia for my cousin's wedding we were going to go to the beach.

Keep in mind that I've ALWAYS thought bringing a baby to the beach was ridiculous.  I’ve never understood the big hats, tents, surfer shirts, and swim booties for a kid that is just going to sit there.  It’s one thing when they can toddle around and play in the sand and water, but a baby that can't even sit up...what's the point?  There’s no way they are comfortable and the families never look that happy.  It just seemed like common sense to me to not waste a beach trip by taking a baby.
So, like most things since I’ve had a child, I’ve turned into the person that I used to make fun of.  In June, my 5 month old had his first trip to the beach.  As we were lugging the tent, the coolers, the diaper bag, the beach blankets, the sun block, the cameras, the bouncy seat, and the kitchen sink, all I was thinking was, “All of this for a stupid beach picture.”

It took an hour to get everything packed up, because by God we were going to stay a while to make it worth it, but that meant we needed lunch, drinks, and snacks for 4 adults, and one 5 year old.  I began going through the list:
·         Tent
·         Beach chairs
·         Beach blanket
·         Cooler with diet cokes for Andrea and Mama, Capri Suns for Mason, beer and water for me and TJ.  Three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, five ham and cheese sandwiches, two different kinds of chips (seriously, who likes Salt and Vinegar chips?)
·         Diaper bag with a change of clothes, diapers, swim diapers, lotion, butt cream, pacifier just in case, extra blanket, and a bottle/formula.
·         3 beach bags with a  towel for everybody, Mason’s goggles and bucket, the bouncy seat so Teddy can sit up if we wants, sunscreen, and camera. 
I can do this, right?  Everything was set up.  Tent was great.  Beach blankets laid out.  Sunscreen applied.  Mason had his goggles and bucket.  Teddy was sitting happily in his bouncy seat.  Andrea and I had successfully dolled out every one's sandwiches, drinks, and chips.  I took a deep breath.  Smiled.  Cracked open my ice cold bud light and took that first magical sip.  I gave myself a mental high five.  I'm getting better at this whole motherhood crap.
I turned around just in time to see Teddy get so excited he bounced himself out of his seat and was contorted in a horrific position with his gigantic head face down in the blanket, but with his torso still buckled nice and tight into the seat.  I scream, throw my beer, and launch myself at my baby.  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the disapproving glance from an older couple power walking by.  I spend the next hour trying not to cry.  I can't even wipe the tears from my eyes because I'm covered in sand and as I much as I love the beach I HATE sand. 
We were there only for about an hour and a half before it was time to pack up (another hour adventure), and head back for the condo. Gone are the days when all I had was a small beach bag. Gone are the days when I would just sit in the beach chair, have a beer, and read a magazine.  My biggest worry used to be just don't get sunburned.  Now, I’m the asshole with the wagon, the stressed look on her face, and the baby that has no idea what’s going on. Life will never be the same.

I desperately wanted a great pic of us at the beach as a family, so of course my forehead looks gigantic, TJ looks like he's dipping, and Teddy refuses to look.

Aunt Andi got the best pic.  Jerk.

Nap time on the beach.

Of course he pooped.  Look at him smirking.  He knows he made me walk half a mile to the trash can on the burning sand right after we got everything set up.

Notice the heinous bruise on my leg from toting the beach chairs.

Teddy look at the camera.  Forget it.

Woo hoo!  We survived our trek to the beach!  Who wants to go to the pool tomorrow?