10 Things I've Learned in 2010

1. We definitely are having a baby girl next April. Sweet Thing double-confirmed it with a (free!) second ultrasound on Monday.
Lesson: Don't be such a pessimistic, skeptical freak when told that something that you have always hoped for is actually going to happen - just be grateful and enjoy it.

2. Taking the high road will momentarily make you feel all saintly and self-righteous, but people will surely take advantage of it whenever possible.
Lesson: Take the road that will protect yourself, which isn't necessarily the low road, just the safe one with minimal potholes and less roadkill.

3. Remodels always take twice as long and cost twice as much as you think they will.
Lesson: It's not Matt's fault that the basement bedroom and bathroom took so long to complete, it's just how the home improvement universe operates. Especially when you are trying to balance a job and family stuff in between running new wire, installing new plumbing, hanging drywall and painting trim.

4. Living in an old neighborhood is charming, but expensive.
Lesson: Clay sewer pipe installed in 1945 has a 65-year lifespan and costs a shitload (pun intended) to replace.

5. There is nothing more lovely than hearing your 3-year-old call, "Will somebody come wipe meeeeeeee?"
Lesson: Baby wipes.

6. There is nothing funnier than hearing your 3-year-old walk through the house yelling, "Who wants a screw? Who wants a screw?" while playing with his kid-sized Black and Decker drill.
Lesson: Do NOT envision him in 15 years yelling the same thing while walking drunkenly through a frat party or you will worry yourself into oblivion.

7. Life isn't fair, and often tragic.
Lesson: Get used to it and try to cherish the good times.

8. While the main goal of the family vacations and the holiday season is to not commit familial murder, at least we are lucky enough to be surrounded by our well-meaning, loving families.
Lesson: Large amounts of patience and understanding. Moderate amounts of alcohol and other sedatives.

9. Republicans have short memories (how very un-elephant-like!).
Lesson: Apparently, eight years of recklessly driving the country into the ground like a rental car you can dispose of when your contract expires is the responsibility of the next driver, not you.

10. Change can be scary, especially to anxiety-ridden, high-strung control freaks like myself.
Lesson: 2011 is going to be full of it, so just roll with it, baby!

Fetal Holiday Syndrome

I used to love to wrap gifts. LOVED IT! Did it for years at a small department store in Foothill Village. (Pin-a-rose-on-my-nose tidbit: I was so awesome at it that customers would request me as their designated wrapper) I used to volunteer to do it for family members. I used to wrap every goddamn thing that went into the stockings. I loved the crisp paper and matching ribbons and bows, finding the perfect shaped gift tag as the final touch.

But this year? Notsomuch. My constant nausea has been replaced with near-constant fatigue, which, don't get me wrong, I would MUCH rather be experiencing than my daily vomitfests. But this tiredness has been putting me to bed really early, especially on the days that I work, and the shopping and wrapping has taken much longer than usual. (Thank Lord Baby Jeebus for Amazon.com!) Anyway, I'm hoping that my zest for wrapping and decorating and shopping will be back next year. And I'll even have a new shopping companion to accompany me!

Oh, I also did minimal card-writing this year. So, for all of you who didn't get one, here are some of my favorite e-cards from the season, courtesy of someecards.com. Happy Holidays!

Bebe 2.0: AKA SuperGrrrl007

"SuperGrrrl007" was the online moniker of my feminist friend during high school. So third-wave. So obnoxious. So 90s. But now that I have been told that I will be having my own little grrrl, it makes me sort of glow to think that someday she too could be a feminist. But hopefully she won't be using any email address that includes the word "grrrl".

It's true, we found out that Bebe 2.0 was a girl last Monday, which we have decided is really the best case scenario for Patrick, as his current favorite toys are a stuffed cat named "Amber" and a little penguin named "Sugar".

In the process of finding out that Bebe 2.0 was female, I almost clocked a couple of ultrasound technicians in the face. Each for a different reason - one intentional and one purely by accident.

The first tech almost got a fistful of Holty anger because she was obviously rushing us through our ultrasound so that she could get her clinic back on schedule. You know, explaining things really quickly, not spending much time showing us the vital organs, and, the kicker, not spending a single extra minute to get Bebe 2.0 to change positions so that we could see if it was a him, a her or a hermaphrodite. She sent us out of that room faster than a Republican gives tax cuts to millionaires. (Yes, I know that the sole purpose of a 20-week ultrasound is to check on the baby's development and make sure that everything is looking normal. And everything was, which we were grateful for and already quite confident in since we went through a round of screening tests last month. But the cherry on top of the 20-week ultrasound is finding out the gender. EVERYONE KNOWS THAT.) So, Matt and I left the doctor's office feeling incredibly disappointed. Damn it all to hell anyway.

As we were grabbing a bagel and coffee across the street, I suddenly turned into a crazy pregnant woman on a mission. Ween or no ween? We must know. Like, NOW! Matt obediently looked up one of those independent ultrasound places on his phone after I barked at him to "Get me the number of Fetal Fotos!" I called and was told they had an opening. Done. We scarfed down our food and took off.

Twenty minutes later, after paying $60(!) I'm on a plush table in a lovely, softly lit room, with soothing music playing and a high-resolution flat panel on the wall. Muuuuch nicer accommodations than the doctor's office. This technician is a sweet thing who is informing us that Bebe 2.0 is in a good position to check out the goods. She does a couple of sweeps and says that she can tell us the gender if we want to know. YES, PLEASE.

Upon hearing that "it" was a "she" my body nearly jerks off the table and my right arm narrowly misses punching Sweet Thing. "Are you serious? Are you sure?" I am in shock. I never thought I would have a girl. Matt has four brothers for Christ's sakes. That family is like the most extreme sausagefest ever. I always thought that Bebe 2.0 was a boy. Always.

Sweet Thing assures us that, yes, it's a girl. That she's 110% sure it's a girl. That she's been doing this for six years. That it's clear to her that it's a girl. And then she proceeds to show us the anatomy - at my request - again. And again. And again. Sweet Thing was very patient with me.

But I'm still wanting additional confirmation. I think when my sister gets into town on the 20th we might hit up Fetal Fotos again, just to make sure that Bebe 2.0 hasn't grown a penis in the past few weeks. And to apologize to Sweet Thing for almost hitting her in the face. I owe her that much.