....HAAAAAAAppy anniversary! Happy happy happy happy happy anniversary...

Here's to four years with the funniest, nicest, cutest boy in the whole world. Fifty or sixty more wouldn't suck.

Happy Birthday, Pops

My dad would've been 61 today.

Banana Fana Fo Fana

So we've picked a name. It is done.

We're still not telling anyone this name. I made that mistake a few times early on -- with what I thought were perfectly lovely, normal names (not London or Anders) -- and was met with "Ew, really?" or "Ohhhhhh......" It's a lot harder to be critical when you're actually being introduced to the newborn.

And while we're not telling the name, I can tell you about the name.

• It's a little old-fashioned.
• At least one celebrity that I know of has a kid named this (but we chose it anyway).
• It has not been in the Social Security Administration's top 100 names in the last 15 years (and it's only been above 200 since 2002). It's climbing a little, but I think we're far from seeing a top-ten zeitgeist.
• A few people who read this blog (one in particular) will have a former association with this name -- which for me was a negative association that took me eight months to get over.
• It's a name that says what it means (like, if the name were Gazelle, it would mean "gazelle." But it's not Gazelle).
• It's in the title of at least two songs that I know of, but I'm sure there are more than that out there.
• Wade and I first picked it in February 2003 in a dank, nasty bar in New Orleans when one of the afore-mentioned songs came on the jukebox. We were -- admittedly -- drink-drank-drunk, and when this particular song came on, I got a little excited [read: singing at the top of my lungs, screaming that this was the best night ever, and that we must name our child _____!]. Definitely, a very auspicious way to choose our offspring's name. (Side note to those who were also there that night: Tosh, HBK, and Brad -- if you're reading this, you may remember this night and this name and if you do and you say/post anything that gives it away, I will sick many, many pigeons on you. Got it?)

I didn't mean to make this a brain-teaser or anything; I just think these are interesting facts about this name. If you've decoded it, please don't comment on it (in the official comments section, I mean -- feel free to comment out loud, to me, whatever).

So there you go. The bean has a name. I've even called her it once or twice now -- which makes this whole fricking thing EVEN WEIRDER. Between that and fixing up the nursery all weekend (it's not quite done yet -- as soon as it is, pictures will be forthcoming), it's continuing to dawn on me that there there is a person on her way.

And now it's a person with a name.

For he's a jolly good fellow...

Wade passed the California Bar! Not that there was ever any doubt, but it's nice to have confirmation that I'm married to a legal supergenius. He is so smart!

Reason #1,564,873 why I love Wade

From an email he sent at work:


Hi [redacted]--

Happy (almost) Memorial Day weekend. I note that we have paper recycling and aluminum recycling, but what about recycling for plastics and cardboard? I've been taking my recycling home, so it's not a huge deal for me. However, I see tons of plastics in the garbage here at the office. To whom should I speak about setting up recycling in the office or, if it's already here, making it more accessible and increasing awareness?

Thanks, Wade

Bean update

We went to the OB/GYN yesterday for our 35 week visit (next week we start going weekly -- ACK!), and they did an ultrasound on the girlie to check size, position, etc. Here's where we're at:

• As near as they can tell, she weighs nearly 6 pounds (5 lbs. 15 oz. to was the exact estimate). That means, assuming the average weight gain of 1/2 pound per week in the last month, and assuming I go to 40 weeks, I'm getting myself one chunky 8 pound baby! I've always heard fat babies are less fussy, so I'm totally rooting for 8+ actually.


• She's totally in the right position: head down, facing my back. Let's hear it for no back labor! (That's what happens when the bony back of the baby's head is up against the bony part of your tailbone. Apparently it does not add any fun to the laboring process. Who knew?)


• Head circumference: 10.4 centimeters, which as Wade pointed out, is larger than the 10 centimeters that I'm supposed to dilate to. Hmm... I hope that cervix is doing some calisthenics and is going to be nice and stretchy come d-day.

And, the super lovely people at my work threw a surprise baby shower today for me and another preggo at work (she's a month behind me). I haven't posted a picture in a while, so here it is, your moment of zen:

I think there are two lessons here: Always fix your hair and reapply lipstick before attending a "meeting," and pregnant women should never wear horizontal stripes and stand sideways.

Behind the music

Go to this website: http://www.bumbershoot.org/band-bio-generator.htm. Create your own personal bio for your own personal band. Read said bio. Chuckle profusely.

Here's mine:

A history of indie rock icons: Boogie Finger
Originally formed in downtown Overland Park KS, Boogie Finger climbed to the top of the the indie rock scene in 2001 with their debut album, Extreme Digit. The band's latest album, One in the Air, Four in a Fist, layers Manic Mich's gritty lyrics with shoe-gazing production to create another collection of retro-inspired concoctions. With standout tracks like "Tha's Jus' the Way I Point," look for Boogie Finger to be a major force in the indie rock landscape for years to come.

And here's Wade's (I told you, Kermit gets way too much publicity from this site):

A history of metal icons: Meow? MEOW!!
Spawned in the pits of Los Angeles, Meow? MEOW!! burst onto the metal scene in 2006 with their debut album, Didn't You Hear Me the First Time? Meow!! The band's latest album, Sunnin', layers Kermit's haunting roars with blazing drums to forge an effort bursting at the seams with sludgy anthems. With standout tracks like "Me...ow," look for Meow? MEOW!! to be a major part in the metal landscape for years to come.

It's truly a gem of an afternoon pick-me-up.

Miss Lu

Because she often gets less press than her feline counterpart, Kermit...

Because even though she hates people of color, the homeless, the disabled -- pretty much the every marginalized population except the gays (clearly she's a product of her environment) -- she's working on being more inclusive and accepting...

Because she has gone along with three cross-country moves in three years (and adapted stunningly, I might add)...

Because she has gained my respect on many occasions by completely shunning those oafs at the dog park who think they have "the way" with all dogs, even when I explain to them that she doesn't like everyone...




...I hereby declare today Lulu Day!

Happy Lulu Day everyone! Celebrate by sniffing a friend's ass, yelling at kids on skateboards, eating things off the ground, and sleeping for 18 hours. Enjoy!

"She has a beautiful suck."

So said the nurse/lactation consultant in the video we watched tonight in our breastfeeding class when describing a baby who latched on quite well. But really, I think it's a compliment that can be applied to a variety of settings, no?

We learned all kinds of interesting things in our class tonight:

• The American Academy of Pediatricians recommends feeding until at least 1 year old. Let me repeat: AT LEAST. Know how long I was breast fed? Three fricking months. Another nine (again, at least), and I could've won the Nobel Prize in physics, the Newberry Award, and America's Next Top Model all in the same year.
  
• The world-wide average age to stop breastfeeding? 5 years old. (Holla, my Yemeni friend Fuad! Fuad actually was 5 when he stopped bf'ing, and come to think of it, he is quite tall and smart, so... yeah: breastfeeding works.)
• Know why the areola gets so much darker when you're pregnant? So the baby -- who's eyesight is not the best those first few months -- can use it like a bullseye and aim it's little wobbly head at it.
• Dude. Babies practically swallow that damn nipple. I mean it goes in there FAR.
• Wade is really good at breastfeeding. Here he is displaying a textbook cross-cradle hold.

Notice the free hand massaging the breast for optimal let-down. (Forgive the crappy phone-quality picture. Who knew we should've brought the camera to breastfeeding class? Though maybe that's a stupid question. In retrospect, of course a breastfeeding class would be rife with unintentional comedy.)

• And I learned that our latest celebrity classmate, Ali Landry, the Doritos Girl, also eats Cheezits. JUST LIKE KEVIN RICHARDSON. She and her friend asked a lot of dumb questions. I know there's supposed to not be any dumb questions, but their's were.
  

First Kevin Costner and now this!

DUDE! I'm used to celebrity sightings out here, but last night, Kevin, formerly of the Backstreet Boys, was in our Prepared Childbirth class! Hence, Wade texting my sister in the middle of instruction: "There's a Backstreet Boy in our baby class." And Wade singing "I Want It That Way" under his breath for the entire 2 1/2 hour class. And Wade asking me if I thought he knew Justin Timberlake. And Wade asking me what other songs the BB's sang. And both of us (yes, me too) singing every Backstreet Boys song we could think of (all four) at the tops of our lungs in the parking garage. (For the record, he and his wife are due the day before us, and they're having a boy. And he eats Cheezits and drinks water.)

Also of note, all the members of the class had to go around and share when our due date was, what we were having, and if we had a name yet. Here's why we're not telling anyonethe names we're considering: the four brought up in class were London (girl), Anders (boy), Harper (girl -- and I actually kind of like this one), and Finley (girl or boy). I mean, how can I not judge when faced with that kind of ridiculousness?

A weekend of motheryness.

Crap. All day I kept thinking of a ton of stuff that I wanted to write. But now it's 9:17 p.m. and my placenta just ate my last brain cell. I'm typing on auto-pilot (thanks Keyboarding I sophomore year at Blue Valley North HS!). I had funny stuff to tell you, really! Witty insights, clever asides. But, lately, at this point in the day I feel a bit like one of those hot dogs you see spinning on rollers at the convenience store. And all I can think is: Oh, why can't American Idol be on RIGHT NOW? This low- to no-brain waves place where I reside each night really calls for nothing more than an hour of Seacrest smoothness interrupted only by Blake Lewis beatboxing on "Greensleeves," Mindy Doo singing the excitement out of every song ever written, Jordin Sparks firing her Jordin-ray-gun of awesomeness at 30 million people, and Simon Cowell massaging his boobs. Sigh. Tomorrow...

OK. The placenta regurgitated a brain cell. It's half-digested so I can't promise any great shakes, but we'll fight it out all the same. I just remembered some of what I was going to write about at least: the weekend. It was so full of motherhood, if I wasn't already pregnant, just the mega-motherhoodness of the weekend would have inseminated me.

My baby shower was Saturday. It was a gorgeous day, and about 70 Persians and 5 white people came out to fete me and my bean. Technically, my mom, sister, and mother-in-law hosted the party, but damn if at least five other women didn't jump in to take it from wonderful to super-wonderful (for the record, those other five were Joan, Lorna, Lacey, Fattahneh, and Madeline--all of you rock). At least 10 women came up to me and said some variation on the following: "Your mom told me that you're having a girl, but you're so obviously having a boy!" (This had something to do with the fact that I'm carrying more in front than all around.) Wow. Well, color us surprised at the end of June when our baby beanie comes out with a teeny peenie.

As fun as it was, it was also a bit overwhelming. I had these same feelings when we got married and registered for stuff and then our friends and family actually bought all that stuff. So much generosity at once is at once both awe-inspiring and stupefying. I'm sure it stems from self-esteem issues: All this? For me? No really, you're mistaken. I'm not nearly this important. Please. I'm worth one onsie, tops. Maybe a onsie and some baby socks. But not all this. For some reason, just opening myself up to accept all this love and attention and stuff (and seriously, this baby could now wear a different outfit everyday for a year and I wouldn't have to do any wash) is hard for me. But I'm working on it, and I'm completely appreciative of it all.

Then for Mother's Day, we had the moms over (W's mom, Pat, is in town from San Antonio for all this bean-madness) for brunch--featuring much leftover Persian food from the previous day's party. Lovely day, enjoyed on our lovely refurbished patio, which would not be possible without the hard work of Handyman Jack (W's step-dad), who on his visit here a few weeks ago pulled a full-on Extreme Home Makeover: Tiny Patio Edition on our outdoor space. We went from ugly dead plants and rusted fence to freshly painted, gorgeously mulched and pruned garden of Eden. We actually go out there now. Thanks, Jackers!

And then last night we went and visited our friends Jennifer, Jason, Baz (the hippest 2 year old in LA), and their three-week old daughter Isabella. Here's thing thing about Isabella: as a newborn, she weighs just under eight pounds. It's quite possible that I will deliver a baby that is the same size as she is now. I just kept looking at her and at my belly. And at her. And at my belly. And then in the general region of my vagina (because you know I stopped being able to see anything at that angle months ago). Bella's not huge or anything, but she is a fully formed, functional human being. And a girl that size is inside me right now and then through the miracle of childbirth will be outside of me in six weeks. (OK, beanie is not quite that big yet--she's probably something more like 4.5 pounds now--but still, I think we all see my point. And my point is that this shit is bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S.)

So yeah, while I practically needed an oxygen tank to breath through all the motherhood this weekend, it was really great. Freaky, but great (at least I've moved on from just plain freaky right?). And with that...

Preggers, OUT.

There's a new post beneath the "'puter" post.

Just an FYI.

We have a new 'puter!

Just to show you how overwhelming life has been lately, our computer arrived Monday and sat in the box until tonight. And if it had been up to me, it probably would have sat in that box until after this (what promises to be a crazy) weekend. Luckily Wade brought it to life... though it's just in time for me to go to bed. But, now that I have a GORGEOUS! new poop morsel to type on, blog posts will be much more regular than the never that I've been doing recently. Promise.

I've missed you, dear bloggie!

So Wednesday night we hook up the computer. And Thursday night the internet goes down. Techie gods, why are you messing with me?! But, since it's been well over a week (!) since I posted anything of substance (though Kermit puke and Ewok comparisons are -- I'm sure -- considered substantial in some circles) and even though it means posting from the naughty place -- by which I mean work, not my yoni (TOM) -- I had to summarize a bit, just so you didn't shrivel up and die, little blog.

• Met with a potential doula nearly two weeks ago. W and I are actually feeling fairly confident about our delivery room prowess, so we're leaning towards not using a doula (yes, yes, I know -- we're over-confident fools who will have our asses (and my perineum) handed to us on the delivery room floor). However, Beth was awesome, and I'd like to hire her just to give me a big hug once a day. Separate from her huggability, she did prompt the following exchange, however:

HER: So who will you have in the delivery room with you?

ME: Oh I don't know, a handful of people. I'm sure folks will be in and out.

HER: Can you come in front of those people?

[Long pause.]

ME: I beg your pardon?

HER: Can you come in front of them?

ME: You mean, like... can I have an orgasm in front of them?

HER: Yes. Can you?

ME: [Bursting into slightly hysterical laughter.] Um, no. But I don't think I could probably come in front of my OB/GYN or strange nurses either though, so...

HER: I'm only asking because labor is much like sex. There's going to be a lot of moaning and writhing. This mouth [claps her hand over her crotch] is connected to this mouth [puts her other hand over her mouth-mouth]. You're really going to be... [And here she proceeds to moan, and moaaaaaan, and scream, and breath heavily, and pant -- all in all very like Meg Ryan in that scene in "When Harry Met Sally" but much louder and MUCH longer.]

WADE: [Completely appalled and staring openly at Beth by this point.]

ME: [Biting my lip, sort of giggling, sort of looking around to see if our neighbors are around to hear and see this show.]

HER: [Winding down] ...So you definitely want to think about who is in the delivery room with you.

Indeed.

• On our tour of the maternity ward last weekend with the eight other couples in our class (and there were some doozies in this class -- see below), I'm staring off into space, wandering into places I shouldn't be, just generally being Preggers in La La Land, and apparently Kevin Costner walks right by us. He gave us a thumbs up and said, "Good luck, guys." Turns out his wife (20 years his junior) gave birth there two hours later. Nice guy , especially for an alleged masseuse-abuser.
• In our class, one guy fell asleep (SNORING) during one of the delivery videos. That same guy later asked if a woman can get Ketamine for pain relief during labor. (Dude, I'm no square, but you're freaking me out -- and you clearly want the Ketamine for yourself. This drug, by the way, can apparently cause hallucinations. Can you imagine that fun trip during labor? They would be peeling me off the ceiling.) Another dad asked what to do if an earthquake hit in the middle of his wife's delivery. Nerd. Another one shot his hand up like Horshack everytime the instructor asked a question. Even Wade got into the oddball-spirit and insisted on goosing me during every practice contraction.
• First thing that made me laugh out loud this week: My sister showed her second grade class "The Chipmunk Adventure" in class yesterday, and they had never heard of The Chipmunks. Crazy. That's not what was funny though. What's funny is that they found the movie to be "hilarious," but they were completely confused as to whether or not Alvin, Simon, and Theodore were kids or animals.
• Second thing that made me laugh out loud this week: this. Makes me wish I actually watched "Nightline."

Last thing: Happy belated birthday to my baby sis. She's been a house on fire lately and is -- finally -- becoming cool enough to hang out with.