I got knocked up by my prom date

There is a single event that best sums up my husband and my relationship.  Back when we were dating, David and I took a trip to Target.  He was buying some stuff to bake cookies; I was looking for an allen wrench to fix a broken doorknob in my apartment.

David (a.k.a. “The Hubby”) and I met in high school.  I was in 11th grade and he was a senior.  And, before you ask, NO, we were NOT high school sweethearts.  The only reason I get so uppity about correcting people on this is that I know the statistics and perception of couples that dated in high school.  Also, if we had actually dated back then, I’m sure I would have screwed it up. David had a crush on me while I was busy pining over the worst sort of guys… you know, the “the band is gonna make it” type and the selling pot at graduation & hacking into the grading system type.

After he graduated and spent a year at an out-of-state college, I was finishing up my senior year, and, with no date prospects for prom, I posted an “ad” on my AOL Instant Messenger away message (you know, the good ol’ days) for the “Find Nancy a Prom Date Foundation”. David saw this and, from all the way in the midwest at college, asked to take me to prom (still as friends, for those keeping score). He was home for the summer by the time prom came around, so we went together. That led to our first kiss (awwww… or, alternately, gag for the less sentimental), which then led to a tortuous summer alternating between being friends, attempting dating, and flat out not talking to each other for days at a time. By the time I started college, David had switched to a school near mine, so we actually tried dating for real. Of course, I still needed to shake off a bit more of the high school drama queen before we were truly in a relationship. However, by the winter, we were already joking about getting married (something we wouldn’t do for another 6 years).

I think the reason our relationship works so well is for one simple fact: neither of us know why the hell the other one stays with us (and, you know, mutual respect, open communication, blah blah blah). Seriously, for those that watch “How I Met Your Mother”, we have constant arguments about who is the Settler versus the Reacher. We both think we are Reachers (but, of course, I’m right). We will have been together for 9 years starting this fall and married for 3 in December, and I still think Hubby could do WAY better.

To give you some insight into my husband’s psyche – he just found a pic of a baby seal hugging a penguin and literally started screaming with joy. He can quote historical philosophers and Pauly Shore movies with equal aplomb. He wants to teach our son to say “I gotta drop a deuce” when asking to use the bathroom in school. He hangs up ultrasound pictures in his locker, but hates when the girls at his school fawn over him for doing so. He can make even the simplest of errands an “adventure”. He’s an amazing cook but a terrible baker (hates following directions). Also, no matter what he tells anyone, he is kicking serious ass at law school. Now, before I get too sappy, all I can say is how could I NOT want this man to be my baby daddy.

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And you thought I wouldn’t…

Please refer to this post by Finslippy and the comment chain to know what the heck is going on:  I bet that gym teacher couldn’t spell “synecdoche” if her life depended on it

This one is for you, Alice

Captions are welcome!

P.S. I swear I’m not a creeper (and yes, I am aware that is exactly what a creeper would say)

Relying on the kindness of strangers

At this point in my pregnancy, it’s pretty obvious to everyone that I’m pregnant, I guess.  Even complete strangers are confident enough to ask me if I’m having a boy or girl.  I’m even reaching the limits of my non-maternity clothing options due to ANOTHER sudden growth spurt by the fetus (or my uterus, I suppose, if we are being particular).  Anyway, I’m guessing this is the contributing factor to what happened to me the other day.

I was on a shopping excursion for work searching thrift stores trying to find a table that looked like one in a set design for an upcoming show plus some spray paint to paint 2 chairs.  The plan was to hit 2 thrift stores, then Home Depot.  Unfortunately, this very specific-looking table couldn’t be found at the first 2 stores, so I added on 2 more to my trip in hopes of landing the perfect piece.  Those turned out to not be fruitful either, so it was just past lunchtime and I was finally hitting the last spot on my errand run.

By the time I’d reached Home Depot, it was well after 1pm (for reference, I usually eat at around noonish).  In front, there was a hot dog stand.  Unfortunately for me, I never carry cash in my wallet.  I decided to try my luck anyway.  I waited patiently in line for my turn, then asked the vendor if he accepted credit cards.  Of course, the answer was no.  As I walked off, a gentleman offered to buy me something.  I politely declined.  A second man called after me, asking what I wanted to eat and handed the vendor some money.  Normally, I would have walked off, but I was starving and knew that there was a chance that I would keel over if I didn’t eat anything – I’ve reached the point in my pregnancy where if I go too long without eating, I get really sick.  Since he’d already handed over the money, I told him that just a plain hot dog would be fine.  He tried to offer me more, but I told him that was enough.  Apparently, he had also paid for a drink for me, so I was able to get some water as well.  As I walked off again, the first gentleman told me to grab a bag of chips, too.  The vendor said that the other guy only paid for a drink, but then changed his mind and said that the chips were on him.  As I walked off, he said that he wanted me to know there were still good people in the world.

I don’t think I’ve ever been treated that kindly by a stranger before.  I could have cried as I walked into the store with my lunch.  After procuring the spray paint (the only shopping success that day), I remembered that I had a little bit of change in my wallet, so I put it in the tip jar of the hot dog vendor as I left.  He told me to stay safe as I walked to my car.

It wasn’t until then that I realized how little it takes to make someone else’s day.  The hot dog only cost that guy a couple of bucks, but it was momentous enough for me to tell everyone I know about it.  It even inspired hubby to finally go and donate blood that day (he’d been putting it off for probably a month at that point).  I challenge anyone reading this to do something nice for a stranger when the opportunity presents itself.  Pay it forward!

The business of The Business of Being Born

Alright!  2 blog posts in a row with disclaimers!  Full disclosure: I have not watched “The Business of Being Born,” so I cannot comment on the actual content.  If someone wants to lend it to me, I would welcome it and watch the entire thing.

Every so often, in my transition from believer in all things modern and material gives to the dirty, tree-hugging hippie that was apparently inside, I come across someone raving about the documentary about giving birth called “The Business of Being Born.”  It is, in a nutshell, about how medical interventions during the birthing process are dangerous to women and that doctors choose them for legal and financial reasons rather than what is best for woman and child.  It cites statistics such as “the United States has the second worst newborn death rate in the developed world” (now, I don’t know if they address what they define as the “developed world” not to mention I did hear on one occasion that this number is skewed because other countries don’t count a baby as being born unless it lives at least 48 hours past birth, but I don’t know the accuracy of that statement either).

Now, to the reason why I have not watched “The Business of Being Born”: for a documentary about an industry choosing profit over safety, they are charging $20.00 for their DVD.  If this was such an important thing for women to watch, wouldn’t you make it more accessible for everyone?  That’s the price for a Hollywood blockbuster just out of the movie theater, not a statement on modern medicine.  Now, I’m aware that you can buy it on Amazon for under $7, but the original retail price listed there even is still that $20 price point.  Also, if you go to their webpage, you are confronted with giant ads for all of their other products and packages, some of which cost as much as $110.00 for the ultimate fangirl.  It took a good couple of minutes of browsing the site just to find the actual trailer to get any concept of what was in this movie, but I right away knew about all of the different things that they sell!  Even the digital downloads of their new episodes (you know, the kind that don’t cost anything to distribute once created) are going for $10 a piece.

Now, if this money was going to charity or awareness or SOMETHING other than the producer’s pockets, I would not take issue.  I also understand selling merchandise and accessories to recoup the costs involved in making the original documentary.  The way they market this brand, however, proves that they are not interested at all in sending a message to the medical community – they are doing the exact thing that they are condemning.

You know who really needs this information?  Poor and uneducated women.  The ones that don’t follow the crunchy, eco-mom movement.  The ones that can’t afford to buy organic or health insurance, even.  This company does not target that demographic at all, even though they are probably most at risk to have a hospital dictate their “birth plan” and do things out of convenience.

If they really cared, this movie would be available at Planned Parenthood, not Best Buy.