Paris from above


The things we talk about


We’re back from Paris, busy as hell and dealing with a very cranky toddler who seems to be combating some sort of tummy bug. Photos to come. But for now, please do enjoy this exchange between me and Matt as we discuss potential plans for the weekend:

Matt: I was looking forward to seeing L. Ron Man: Super-Scientologist, but the movie is not out yet.  Dang!

Me: L. Ron Man would be a good movie, as long as the movie theatre also served pints of the weird Scientologist baby formula on special.

Matt: Maybe we could go see the new movie, The Polk.  It’s about a guy who is exposed to gamma radiation and transforms into U.S. President James K. Polk whenever he drinks iced tea.  I heard it was pretty bad, though.

Me: Is that sweet or unsweet?

Matt: Sweet.  During a key scene in the movie, the pre-Polk says, “Don’t give me sweet tea.  You wouldn’t like it if I had sweet tea.  Hey, this is sweet tea!  Aaaaargh!  Manifest destiny!!!!!”

Me: I just made a very unflattering sound with my nose.

Crisis averted


Shiny new passport in hand, Harry’s new suitcase packed, splitting headache, and somewhat caught up on Fresh Air podcasts. Dare I attempt to bake cookies tonight?

Oh, jesus FUCK


So, at 4:30 this afternoon, I dug my passport out from the pile of papers and CDs on my desk and put it in a place where I could get to it easily.

Then I looked at the expiration date. 28 June 2008. I thought it expired in December 2008. I can’t leave the country with the expiry so near. So, tomorrow, I go to my regional passport office with a file of papers and ready to write a Very Large Check (I imagine) in the hopes that we can fix this in time.

Pray for us.

Holy crap, you guys


I want to write a post about the results of the ultrasound, the discovery of the baby’s sex in particular, and how it’s stirred up all of these complicated feelings for me and left me a big, weepy puddle of tears in inappropriate situations ever since, but HOLY SHIT, Y’ALL. We’re leaving for Paris this weekend, and I am so overwhelmed I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t know what to do while we’re there, don’t know what to pack, apart from the $120 shoes I just put on my credit card (NAUGHTY). All I know is that I want to buy a big box of macarons while in Paris to share with my girlfriends when we return, go see Versailles, and not spend our whole trip there trying to figure out what to do, going to all the wrong places, and totally missing out on the Paris Experience.

Also, I’m worried that I’m going to look like a big fat Ugly American in all the wrong clothes, speaking halting French with a horrible accent. I want to go to the fancy lingerie place, but I know that the “quintessential Parisian woman” who runs the joint will take one look at my pregnant 42DDDs and swollen belly and command me to leave her sight. The lines at the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower will be too long and who wants to do all of that touristy bullcrap anyway?

And let’s not even DISCUSS how desperately worried about Harry I’ll be and how much I’ll miss him and how I can guaran-damn-tee that I’m going to melt into tears the minute we pull away from my aunt’s house on Sunday morning, paralyzed with grief at leaving my sweet boy behind, even though I know he’ll probably be setting Guitar Hero records on his cousins’ Wii mere moments after we’re gone.

Ach, my heart. Who knew vacations could be so stressful?

Hotchpotch


1. Harry’s second “dance” class was last night and he LOVED it. He did so much better than the last time, when he clung to me and cried for the first 10 minutes. Last night, he participated actively and was just adorable. I was so freaking proud, it was ridiculous. And he looks so cute in his tiny little ballet shoes!

2. I keep meaning to report on our first dissertation group meeting, in which we workshopped my most developed diss chapter. It was soooooo helpful, and I have a MUCH clearer picture of what these chapters are supposed to look like. Now then, if I can’t get my little head focused on these revisions, I’m going to be very embarrassed the week we workshop said revisions.

3. Today is our 19-week ultrasound. Place your bets on Baby Boo’s sex in the comments!