In Other News:

On our way home last night from a delightful (if long, sorry Bai) evening with my sister and brother-in-law, we encountered a young buck meandering down the street.  I was so exhausted, but the sight of the deer less than 3 feet from our car freaked me out enough to stay awake clear to Thanksgiving Point.  After that, however, I was in and out of blissful consciousness.
Thanks to the extensive amounts of construction on our little stretch of freeway, many changes frequently - well, change. You never know from one hour to the next how many lanes there will be, which exits and on-ramps are open, how long you'll be in your own little lane before merging/exiting, etc.  In one such situation we found ourselves as Pooh went to exit and it had apparently been shortened.  His sudden braking woke me up, and he was alerted by my sudden "Why? What? Aaaah!"
I really thought we were about to hit that blasted deer.
The memory still makes me chuckle at the strangest times.

Sorry These Took So Long...

Here's his arm, going down from the elbow to his hand.

Here's his face, smiling for the camera! That whitest part in the middle is his nose. Evidence he is his father's son ;)

And there's his foot! So cute, right??

And The Winner Is...

My mother-in-law, apparently.  Which makes Pooh laugh because she was wrong about all her kids but him, so that gave him the confidence to declare we were having a girl for so long. And the Natalie, of course, who simply thinks having girls would be nightmarish. I see her point, but I want one anyway.
Then we got the ultrasound.
Hello, Baby Boy!
I asked the ultrasound technician (because I heard there's usually a margin for error on these things) what percentage of certainty we had. She said "100% positive it's a boy." Well then.
Boy names have always been our downfall. Girl names we have resounding agreements on at least 3, so we're good. But boys...? It's been a struggle.
I am in love with the name Cole James. I know Cole is pretty popular (and gaining) but I love it, anyway. James is my granddad's middle name and I've always liked the idea of honoring him with my first born boy, and since his name was Carl James it even sounds similar!
Cole James. Carl James. See it?
But Pooh hates Cole. He can't say why. Just doesn't ring with him. Which I can understand. I mean, Linus (his pick) I liked at first, but it kinda grew away from me.
After prayer last night, trying to be guided to a name we both can be proud of, I started to feel like everything will work out and neither of us will get our feelings hurt over the matter any more.

Holy Cantaloupe, Batman!

This is the first time that I've consistently wondered about the supposed size of the tiny person inside me.
Cantaloupe? Really?
It's roughly the size of the melon, but more accurately described as 6 1/2 inches from stem to stern (or top of head to bottom of rump). 
6 1/2 inches?! I mean, really?! WHERE?! I guess that's what it all comes down to: where in the limited space of myself and not-so-much-showing-ness is this thing?
And since I'm Batman today, here's a reminder:

For those who can't read it, (the important part) says "READ or I'll break your face"

Santa Is A Stalker/Communist

I still don't know how my Pooh heard this... wait... never mind. It just came to me.
Arlo Guthrie's song The Pause of Mr. Claus tells it best, "Santa Claus wears a red suit, he's a communist."
Seems logical enough to me. 
Anywho, as promised, why Santa watching is more potent than Jesus watching. 
First of all, Bette Midler put it quite well with "God is watching us from a distance." Where is that, exactly? Heaven, ok. Where's heaven? Right.
Santa is watching from the North Pole. Now, that one's easy. Any kid can find the North Pole with a globe, map, or Google. 
So, the real clincher is the timing. With Jesus, He's watching, but you get your eternal reward when you die. I don't care how good of a head your kid has on his shoulders, no kid believes they're going to die until they're about 30 (I'll use that as a generic age because I know people who came to the realization sooner and I know others who still appear to be living in denial). Karma is usually a pretty good motivator, but there're lots of Christians that frown on using ideologies from religions that AREN'T Christianity, so. The other time you'd receive your reward is at the Second Coming. When's that? Right.


Santa comes EVERY YEAR on December 24th/25th while you're sleeping. That adds the extra intensity of being passed out (despite all your hard work and hot chocolate consumption in an effort to glean what little caffeine it has to offer your system to sustain you through the sugar crash), so you don't know until morning - when your Dad FINALLY gets the video camera set up - if you've been good ENOUGH that year.
So, there it is. My reasonings for why threatening the kids with "Santa is watching" is more effective than "Jesus is watching" at any time of year. 
Except maybe Easter.

Dear You

That's right, you.  The mini-me in my stomach.  Whether you're Afton or He-Who-Has-Not-Yet-Been-Named, you'd best calm the heck down before we enroll you in MMA while still in the delivery room.  If this is actually you. If not, then apologies.
Speaking of the Little inside me, here's a picture. Or two.

Finally, right? I know, white background+white shirt=bad bad bad! Next time they'll be better. Promise.
Thanks so much to Natalie for being so willing to take the pictures. I know they're not fabulous and I still mostly look big, but I can testify: there are definitely curling up on the couch positions that are no longer possible/generally uncomfortable/dissatisfying. Growth is happening and it's not me.

In other news: The Sing-Off. WHY have I never watched this before!?! I mean, Holy Cows on High! I was really nervous about the Aires, I mean, a medley of three Queen songs (the most untouchable band in the world, PS), and they picked the 3 most famous Queen songs and I was like "eh, that's mostly for audience appeal. They're gonna do well just because everyone loves those songs." Boy was I wrong. Honestly, I watched Glee for a few seasons because it was all about show choir. This IS show choir sans scripted drama! And a cappella to boot! What's not to love?

Confession: I listened to Christmas music yesterday. Nothing in my other lists was speaking to me, so I peeked at my Christmas list and "White Christmas" whispered seductively, 'listen to me. You know you want to...' And I did. I wanted to, and I did. MercyMe and Ella Fitzgerald wrapped it up for me, though, and I went back to my favorite list.
My moment of weakness is over.
Next time: Why the treat of "Santa is watching" is WAY more effective than "Jesus is watching."

The Doghouse Diaries Comic... Awesome.

Why you're not as awesome as a dog


It's so true.