The Mighty Hunter, Stinkerbell and the SON

I’m claiming temporary insanity.  Anyone who has ever been pregnant will definitely agree that I’m definitely qualified.  I have 3 months left for this convenient disability and plan to use it for all its worth.

Along with being just plain nuts about some things (unlike before when I was neveronly occasionally nuts), I’m typically pg emotional.  Reading the sweet story Moreena tells of her Annika needing both hands made me cry.  She is such a talented word-crafter.  Moreena, you Rock! 

Guideposts magazine articles about lost pets and LeapPad commercials are the latest Big Meanies to make little ol’ me cry.

My ultrasound did it Monday morning.  But that’s not unusual for crazy pg gals.

Well, you’ve probably determined that we’re having a little boy.  Boys have turtle bottoms and girls have hamburger bottoms.  At least that’s what the sonographer here says they look like.  I kinda agree.  If you poke yourself in the eye to temporarilyblur your vision and then strain to see the picture on the u/s screen, you’ll see a turtle or a hamburger or nothing but a big blobby mess.

The Mighty Hunter is on top of the world.

Before I continue with my description of his excitement over having a SON (hear that in the movie announcer’s deep, dramatic voice), let me tell you a little about The Mighty Hunter’s fathering of his daughter.

There was The Mighty Hunter.  He was exactly as you might imagine someone with that nickname.  He’s smart.  Tall.  Handsome.  Hard-working.  Outdoorsy.  Hunter.  Fisher.  Find-his-way-out-of-the-woods-in-the-dark-blindfolded.  Passionate (shh.  don’t tell him I said that).  Loves Auburn football.  Hates u of alabama football.  Ditto for Tennessee and Florida and all other rivals of Auburn University.  Loves Jesus and his family with all his heart.

He was a “guy.”  Not much more.  But a complete and total Guy.

He learned with mixed emotions that Stinkerbell would be a girl.  He knew he would be putty in her tiny, little, soft hands.  He tried to prepare himself with all he knew about fathering a daughter.  Which was Nothing.  I mean, he had a younger brother – no sisters.  Until me, the only female in his life had been his mom – whom we lost to leukemia when I was 2 months pg.

With my ob, we planned my labor induction for a Saturday morning – inauguration day!  We arrived and settled into the L&D suite.  It was pretty uneventful till I puked red and purple Jolly Ranchers about 6:30pm.  Except for the intense contractions that lasted 3 days before the Blessed Epidural (BBE).  He is still scared to be in the room with me BBE this time – chicken!

At 8:something o’clock, Stinkerbell emerged, screaming and squeezing her thumbs between her pointer and middle fingers.  It was at this point that The Mighty Hunter forever lost the hard boney quality to his spine.  It is now completely and irrevocably comprised of jell-O.  He cried (shh. don’t tell him I told you.)  He commented on her big feet – and they’re still big.  He stroked her little arms and legs and head and back and belly as we held her for the first time.  As they measured her and did all that crap, he stroked and shushed her screams more still.  The video camera went with him into the nursery as the nurses gave her her 1st bath.  More stroking and shushing.  He held her in his arms like she was the very Christ Child.  Or the most fragile, tender, precious, beautiful, important egg-shell of a creature he’d ever seen.

He was instantly, completely, unbelievably, wonderfully in love with Stinkerbell. 

And still is.

She owns him, and they both know it.  Ask her where she keeps her daddy and she’ll hold up her little pinky finger.

And she loves him.  This Sunday night she said that she had changed her mind and did want to GET a baby when she got older.  Not really HAVE a baby, but GET one – scared of needles and understands they’re just part and parcel of pg.  I told her that she should find herself a good Christian man to marry and GET a baby with him.

“I want to marry Daddy.”

“Well, I’m married to him already, so I don’t think that will work.  But why don’t you go tell him that you want to marry him.”

She trots down the hall, buck naked from just finishing her bath to tell her Daddy this wonderful announcement.  A few minutes later, I bring her panties and pj’s to her and I learn that The Mighty Hunter’s trying to figure out a way to accomplish this so that there will NEVER be another man in her life that she would EVER want to marry.

It’s this kind of sweetness and love and devotion that The Mighty Hunter has for his Daughter (hear that in your head with Celine Dion’s voice in a lullaby style).

Now, he’s getting his SON (again, the movie announcer voice).  He’s so very VERY excited.  He had admitted to me before the u/s that he really hoped it would be a son and that he would be disappointed if it were a girl. 

Before you start the criticisms, keep in mind that we ALL have preferences and he is NOT wrong for having a preference in this.  Also remember how very dearly he loves Stinkerbell and don’t think for a SECOND that he’d love a 2nd daughter less than this SON.  He just wants a Little Mighty Hunter to pal around with and pick on.

I patted him on the arm and told him it would be ok either way. 

But now he is getting his SON.  And it is wonderful news to him.  He’s on top of the world.  He’s thrilled.

But I realized something else.  And I’ve already told you about it.  The Mighty Hunter is a different man because he was father to a daughter first.  If the SON were first and Stinkerbell the 2nd child, I don’t think he’d be The Mighty Hunter as we know him today.  There’s a tenderness that he has acquired that might not be there if the birth order were reversed.

So, it’s great that we’re having the SON.  And it’s actually great that the SON is 2nd after Stinkerbell.

So how is Auburn Gal handling being the mother of the SON?  Pretty good.  I’m excited too.  I had been able to restrain myself from buying anything, thinking that some of Stinkerbell’s clothes, etc might be recycled.  But last night, I bought the very FIRST things for the SON last night.  Wal-Mart had some things on clearance and there were some CUTE little outfits in 3-6 months size – just right for late spring and summer.  Stinkerbell was thrilled to help choose the first clothes for the SON.

I can’t wait to see his fat little thighs sticking out of those little short legs.

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Deedoo Deedoo Deedoo bang! bang! bang!

Here’s one I began a few days ago.  I no longer remember what else I was going to add to it, so I’m posting it now!  I’m sorry if it just ends abruptly without resolution. 

 

In his previous life, Mighty Hunter was a residential property claims adjuster for a major insurance company.  He handled all types of losses to homes within the NE quarter of Alabama.  There are probably a few blog posts about that part of his/our life.  During that time, he would do his paperwork in our extra bedroom/office/storage room.  (Clean Sweep, where were you then?)

MH is not known for his saintly patience with electronic or electrical items.  He is a founding member of the “If it doesn’t fit, force it club,” with its required tool being the claw hammer. 

Fax machines gave MH the opportunity to use the tool that is a close second to the hammer.  His hand.  There are times when a hammer is over-kill.

 

Paper jams, busy signals, out of paper, out of ink.  The things that cause everyone frustration.  Mighty Hunter doesn’t handle that type of frustration very well.

“Dee-doo-dee-doo-dee-doo-dee-doo.”

Bang.  Bang.  Bang.  “Stupid piece of junk.  Come on!”

“Dee-doo-dee-doo-dee-doo-dee-doo.”

Bang.  Bang.  Bang.

I think that lightning struck our fax machine, causing permanent unrepairable damage, 4 times over 10 years.  Amazing how it didn’t affect anything else in our house in any way, huh?

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Give me Sugar Water!

This morning was my 2nd ultrasound and glucose test.

Glucose tests suck. I was diagnosed as hypoglycemic when I was 10, I think. I’ve had more glucose tolerance tests (GTT) than any one person ought to have in their life – sans diabetes. My body just doesn’t metabolize sugars at the same rate as the “average” person. The GTT should have been 140 or lower after fasting and drinking their “fruit punch flavored” bottled sugar water. I felt like Edgar, the bug alien from Men in Black.

http://www.wavsite.com/sounds/30605/mib21.wav

In my history with GTT’s, I’ve fainted in the dr office bathroom, puked, wished I could puke, gotten raging headaches and had to lie down on exam tables, couches and the floor. Today was below average in excitement. I only got a mild headache and “burped up.”

TMI, I know.

Anyway, I flunked the dang thing. Just like I expected. When pg w/Stinkerbell, I flunked it too – 142. Today, I was an over-achiever. 152. It’s not really high. It’s not a surprise. But I still have to have…

The Dreaded 3 Hour Test.

http://www.grsites.com/sounds/18791905/people/people089.wav

Now for the rest of the story…

My mom joined The Mighty Hunter, Stinkerbell and myself for the ultrasound (u/s). My dad was unable to get away from the office long enough. Both my parents were excited about getting to see the u/s. My brother has 4 kids, and they missed all those u/s – plus Stinkerbell’s. The Mighty Hunter’s dad was in town, but had his own appointment with a surgeon regarding his prostate cancer (another post, another time.)

Stinkerbell was spellbound by the whole thing. There are very few things that get her to be still and quiet. This was one of the best.

The sonographer (sp? name?) confirmed that everything seemed normal. She can’t diagnose anything, but I know that she would call the ob in if she saw something that warranted a diagnosis – which she didn’t.

152 bpm heartbeat.

Cute little face. Long, skinny arms and legs. Approximately 2 lbs now. She gave a much more exact weight but I was too amused by The Mighty Hunters’ “10 pounds???” that I forgot the ounces. It’s a nice weight, not too big, not too small.

Long straight spine. Eyes still closed.

And there where it should be was a little turtle.

Do you know which sex has the turtle and which has the hamburger?

I’ll wait for the comments to find out who can guess it!

This will be fun.

 


			

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Not the picture example of motherhood

OK.  I’ll admit that since she danced with and kissed the “saint” in “Like a Prayer”, I haven’t really cared for her or her music. 

Now, she is going the extra mile to offend Christians world-wide during her tour with a moment where a cross clad with mirrors (think disco ball) is lowered from the rafters of the stadium with her hanging there, adorned with a crown of chrystal thorns.

No, I don’t like Madonna.  I find her offensive.  Furthermore, I believe that she seeks opportunities to offend others.

But she is a part of the celebrity culture that chooses the spiritual path of least resistance.  “Seek first the way to do what you want, and your life here will be as pleasant as you can delude yourself into believing.”  There are no consequences to bad behaviors or choices for them, because they believe that this life on Earth is all there is.

 How very sad.

And incorrect.

But today, I wanted to share with you an article I stumbled upon about Madonna.  I had not read much about her trip to Malawi, only that while there, she was horrified by the plight of the orphans and poverty. 

If this link works, you’ll get someone else’s “take” on her trip to Malawi and her choice to adopt a young boy while there…  It’s interesting.  Not too long, so take another minute and read a little more.

I’m not the only one who thinks she is selfish and nuts and out for nothing more than self-promotion.

Hey, Madonna.  You can’t buy your way to Heaven.  But you can fool yourself into not making it there.

 link:

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,221397,00.html

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It’s the great pumpkin, Stinkerbell!

Saturday, most of the parents from our church car-pooled to a local pumpkin patch. I’ve taken Stinkerbell to a pumpkin patch every October for the past couple of years.  It’s always a lot of fun.  Last year, it was just Stinkerbell and I at a small farm.  We picked a couple of pumpkins and then bought a few that they’d already been picked.

We loaded up the Pimp Mama-mobile with 3 other kids from church and 2 other parents.  Disney’s The Wild was in the dvd player.  They watched it for a few minutes – until we got 7 miles up the road and stopped for lunch at McDonald’s.  I had the pleasure of sitting across from Neighbor’s Son (7), Stinkerbell (5) and Stinkerbell’s best friend from church – BFFC (girl, 7).  As soon as Neighbor’s Son was finished eating, the Hot Wheels began racing across the table toward me.  Stinkerbell and BFFC had a dance competition with their Barbie ballerinas.  Then we were joined by another boy (6) who wanted to race his Hot Wheels with Neighbor’s Son, while I tried to finish my Big ‘n Tasty with cheese and fries with excessive salt and ketchup.

The other parents finished eating a few minutes before I and began bringing their trays to the trash. 

“How’s it going up here, Auburn Gal?”

“It’s great!”  nervous twitch  “I’m leaving.  Who wants their kid?”

“Kids get your bags and put them in the trash and load up.  Time for the pumpkin patch!”

So, we drove to the pumpkin patch.  The kids had a great time. 

Playing in the pit of shell corn was the high-light for all the kids.  We parents wanted a turn, but the kids wouldn’t let us play. 

Corn ostriches 

The 5 ACRE corn maze was very well done and not really difficult.  I don’t think I wandered the whole 5 ACRES, but considered making a short-cut to the parking lot when I saw the tops of the vehicles parked there!

 

Note to self:  When wandering a 5 ACRE corn maze, it can be perfectly reasonable and surprisingly efficient to allow a 5 y-o and 7 y-o to lead the way.  Stinkerbell and BFFC led us out, holding hands the whole way.

 

The hay ride to the pumpkin patch was good too.  Later this month, this farm does night-time haunted hay-rides.  The trails through their 2400 acre farm are very well maintained.  The cotton-pickers were working and the bailer was just about to finish a bale of cotton as we rode past.  The cotton bales are so big.  It’s really interesting.

Stinkerbell and BFCC on hayride

 

 

The pumpkin patch we picked from seemed pretty full still – even though there was a farm truck half-full with pumpkins the farm crew was picking for sale to stores.  We wandered around and found 2 very nicely shaped pumpkins.

 

Stinkerbell and pumpkins

 

There was a petting zoo with Shetland ponies, very tame goats and a baby donkey.  I didn’t even walk over there.  But Stinkerbell and BFFC spent much time there – they’re both animal lovers.

 

Fun was had by all.

 

I’ve decided that I definitely want a large shed somewhere on my property.  By “large shed” I mean, 18’ roof height minimum, no walls (or possibly enclose a portion with screens!), a gas bbq grill on one side, a little playground slide, porch swings, fluorescent lights, ceiling fans.

 

The Mighty Hunter observed the beginning of whitetail bow season here in Alabama.  He drove his new truck to near Auburn where he is a member of a hunting club.  He pulled his new trailer hauling his new Yamaha Rhino, with his new bow safely hidden away.  He shot at a small buck Saturday morning but missed.  Somehow, he cut a string on his bow, which will have to be fixed before next weekend.  He somehow broke a tail-light on his new trailer too.

 

There was no damage to his truck though.  Thank goodness!

 

Stinkerbell slept in the bed with me both Friday and Saturday night.  She has the softest little feet and loves to rub them on my legs as she falls asleep.

 

I’ve made vegetable soup and Mexican cornbread and The Mighty Hunter’s plain cornbread today.

 

I have 8 days of work left before I go on maternity leave.  wooHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

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#2

First, I couldn’t resist the “#2”.   teeheehee!  Just too easy. 

I really mean… Things you only hear in a public restroom when Stinkerbell and I are there!!!  Part Two

For #1, please read  http://augalinfp.blogspot.com/2006/08/things-you-only-hear-in-public.html

Our first installment with Funny Potty Stories on Stinkerbell (then known as DD) began in a clothing store.  Today’s chapter will come to you from a restaurant. 

Stinkerbell loves eating at the Cracker Barrel.  Fried chicken tenders, okra and corn (put the corn in a bowl, please) are her regular order.  When she was really small, she called it “tick-tar”, her way of pronouncing guitar.  Now WHAT it was about the Cracker Barrel store or its sign that made her think of a guitar, I’ve never really understood.  I think  it was because of the design on their sign looked a little bit like the big part of a guitar.  If you squint really hard.  And press on your eyes until your vision blurs.  Or you take off your glasses.

Anyway…

Stinkerbell and I were in the ladies room at our local Cracker Barrel.  It was a crowded, busy day.  All the stalls were full, and several women were outside the stalls washing hands, waiting their turn or changing a diaper. Our turn came and we, once again, used the wheelchair accessible stall.  There was no one waiting to pee that required the use of the wheelchair stall, so Stinkerbell and I enjoyed the extra space.

I let her tinkle first.  Then while I’m assuming the position, she’s doing the “pull up your pants dance”…  well, just remember this.  Her voice has never been a quiet one.  Whisper?  Not MY  Stinkerbell.

 Stinkerbell's volume level

“Mommy, I have a hair on my bottom.”

thinking it’s one of the long ones from her head that has fallen down into her panties or pants and is tickling or irritating her… “Get it out of there.  Put it on the floor.”

“No, mommy.”  frustration drips out of her mouth onto the floor and runs down the sewer drain…    “Like you do.  See????”  big proud grin

You know how they all reacted.  You’re doing it now.  Go ahead and laugh.  It’s funny.

I gambled that they had all been equally embarrassed by their own twerps at some point in their lives.  And if they hadn’t yet, it was coming.  It’s a rite of passage.  You embarrassed your parents in all sorts of ways.  Your off-spring will embarrass you.  It’s only fair.

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“There are times when he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed.”

Or “It’s a Good Thing He’s so Sexy”

Mighty Hunter is a very smart man.  He has a lot of talent and skills in business and sports and just regular daily things.  There are days, on the other hand, where he gets by because he is cute and has a great, funny laugh.

MH is a deep sleeper.  Stinkerbell has inherited that gift.  She can sleep very soundly while I bang her bed with the vacuum cleaner.  I can remember times when I was a deep sleeper.  Then one Presidential Inauguration Day, I gave birth and my ability to hear even the slightest wheeze, sniffle, cough, sigh or breath was intensified to the point that I struggle to sleep at all.  

When Stinkerbell was a baby, but old enough to be rolling around on her own, she was in bed with us one night.  There were many nights when she slept with us before we finally brain-washed motivated her to sleep in her own bed.  One night, she rolled herself all the way to the bottom of the bed without me realizing it.  When she rolled herself off the bed and thumped onto the floor, her scared cries jerked me awake.

With the grace and agility of a leopard groggy mommy, I leapt from my sliver-thin portion of our KING-SIZE bed and turned on every light I could reach.  Stinkerbell is still screaming, but she is not really hurt.  Considering this was the first of, well, more-than-one fall from the bed, she and I handled it pretty well.

Mighty Hunter didn’t handle the situation so well.  Not that he panicked or lost consciousness or anything.  Losing consciousness would imply that he actually awakened.  Panic would also require consciousness. 

Conscious?  No. 

Asleep?  Yes. 

Annoying?  Yes. 

Lacking common sense?  Yes.

MH sits up in his ¾ portion of the bed and appears awake.  His eyes are open.  He has a concerned look on his face.  But his words reveal his true mental capacities…

“What’s wrong?”

“She fell off the bed.”

“Did she bounce?”  Lies back down on his pillow.  Closes eyes.  Snores.

Did she BOUNCE?  He is soooo lucky I’m occupied caring for his child to smother him with his own pillow.  This might just count for temporary insanity.

The next day, I thank him, with all the stinging sarcasm I can muster, for his assistance during the night’s excitement. 

You’re gonna love this.

He doesn’t remember it at all.

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