She-she poo-poo

One of my best friends uses the above phrase occasionally. Being able to understand context clues, I have come to interpret her use of it to mean what us country folks might call high falutin'. So for some reason, I was thinking about this tonight and wondered, who originated this phrase? I assume my friend didn't make it up all by herself (though her family does have a history of making up words ;-) To the internet I ran. Isn't it amazing what you can learn on the internet?! And so I found a website started by a Ms. Taylor Sparks, which contained this heading: "What is She-She/Poo-Poo Time™ ? She-She, is for women, grown women, only. Poo-Poo, is all about Rest, Relaxation and Replenishment." You might note that she has trademarked this phrase. Amazing. I also noticed that many of the uses of the phrase on blogs and other websites seemed to use it the same way my friend does. So how did that happen? Apparently she didn't intend it to have this definition. However, I couldn't find an actual definition anywhere else. Not even urbandictionary.com. Do any of you have any information about this phrase? You might be thinking that I have way too much time on my hands, but cut me some slack. I was an English major. Stuff like this fascinates me.

My Awesome Husband

For the past month or so I've been the worst housekeeper ever. The nausea has left me wanting to do absolutely nothing, so I considered it an accomplishment to plan meals, go to the grocery store, and do the laundry--all while keeping Owen alive. Everything else was left to the dust mites. My sweet husband has not complained once. You may think to yourself, of course he shouldn't complain. But this is a man who works ridiculous hours. Who also has to work on research projects and personal statements and attend crazy conferences where he has to participate in a super-nerdy form of Jeopardy. The pinnacle of my appreciation for him came yesterday though. I realized that at some point he had scrubbed both of the toilets in the house. I made a point to tell him how much I appreciated that, and he told me that he was worried I would become nauseous and have the situation made worse by bad smells from the toilet. Maybe some of you are reading that and thinking, "gross," but my heart was warmed.

Cards

My family visited this past weekend. Unfortunately, I'm terrible about taking pictures, so there are no photos to post with this entry. However, we had a great time. Owen was in heaven. He loves when we have visitors. He particularly likes suckering anyone and everyone into constantly building garages with him. The sweetest line came at the end though. He looked at me and said, "Mommy, they're trying to leave me, and I want them to stay." Nearly choked up this weepy pregnant lady.

I must say the highlight for me though was the many rounds of cards. We taught my little sis Kellie to play Crap and Spades. Very fun, even though she consistently beat us at Crap. I can't tell you how many fond memories I have of sitting around a table playing cards with my family. A summer Sunday afternoon, after eating lunch together and swimming in the pool. Vacations at the beach in the dead of winter (you can only swim in the indoor pool for so long). Random, lazy evenings. One memory stands out the most in my mind. My parents took my best friend and I to the movies. I pitched a fit about something. I was far too old for such behavior, and I'm sure I was acting like a total brat. My dad yelled at me. For those of you who don't know, my dad is NOT a shouter. For all I know, I may have even warped this memory a little. He probably just used a really firm voice. Either way, I decided to sulk. As soon as we got home I stormed off to my room (best friend in tow) and shut my door. It wasn't long before my soft-hearted dad was knocking at the door. All he said was, "You wanna play some cards?" And that was all it took. I couldn't be mad at him. I'm sure I subconsciously knew I deserved whatever he said. And there was no way I was going to turn down the chance to play Spades. So take note. If we're ever together and I'm sulking, just get out a deck of cards.

Poop

It's amazing how much poop you can tolerate as a parent. Poop on your hands, poop on shoes, poop anywhere and everywhere. Tonight we went out for a little dinner, Italian ice, and time at the very cool church playground. It was while on this very cool playground equipment that Owen declared, "I pooped." At the time, I was paused at the top of a slide, encouraging him to follow me down. He had already pooped today (and is usually a one poop a day kind of guy), so I assumed that he really meant that he pooted. So I calmly explained, "It's okay to poot on the slide." So he follows me down, gleeful all the way. We both climb back up the steps, and I encourage him to race me down the parallel slides, to which to replies, "I pooped again." This time I decide to actually take a peek down the back of the diaper, and lo and behold, there is some poop in there. Unfortunately, I didn't take the time to think my next action through. I encouraged him to go down the slide. Bad, bad idea. Poop no longer contained in the diaper. Or in the shorts even. Poop now dripping onto the shoes. Poop on the mulch. Gotta love it.

I'm a pregnant cry-baby

I must admit that I'm not infrequently moved to the point of crying. Fortunately for me, I don't have any tearducts, so most people can be left safely in the dark during these moments. If you asked me a question, I'd be in trouble, because my throat nearly closes up from the effort of not audibly sobbing. Praise music in church, movies, sweet moments with my family, you name it. Pregnancy seems to have ratcheted this up a notch. So I thought I'd share my latest throat-blocking moment with you if you're interested. http://www.snopes.com/photos/animals/christian.asp
You might laugh at me for crying during this, but remember, it's the fetus' fault.

Nothing Much

I don't have anything in particular to say. It's been a long time since I've posted, so I thought it was due. It seems the summer sends lots of blogs into hiatus. Hard to feel motivated to type when there is so much else happening I suppose. For my part, I'd like to blame it on nausea. I haven't felt motivated to do much other than lay on the couch and watch movies. Yesterday Owen wanted me to play with him on the floor. I told him I needed to lay down for a little while because my belly hurt. When Will got home, he immediately told him that my belly hurt, because there's a baby in there. So funny. No idea why he connected the two. I've never given him an explanation for this recurring "belly hurt." Smart kid. Not so smart on the specifics of pregnancy though, since he keeps declaring he has a baby in his belly, despite our efforts to teach him otherwise. A few weeks ago, he seemed to concede, but then told us he had a baby in his leg instead. By the way, in case you don't know already, I'm pregnant. Here we are going on about diapers and nausea, never actually stating the fact. If you haven't heard this news in person, I'm sorry. We love so many people, who are spread out all over the place, and I just haven't had the energy to personally contact everyone I would like to, so please don't be mad.

Diaper Debate

As a new little one slowly nears and we become a little more environment conscious, the question of what kind of diapers to use has arisen. Mind you, Owen is still in some sort of diaper and is fighting hard to stay that way. He will tell us that he needs to pee-pee, but that usually just means, "I pee-pee'd a little and I want you to pay attention to me and not whatever you are doing so I can control my world just a little more." Selfish.

It would be much easier if it were just a question of Pampers vs. Huggies. Consumer reports does a pretty good job of telling us which is the best, and a little time and experience fills in those gaps. Unfortunately, there is no such offering for cloth vs. disposable diapers. There are a smattering of sites on the internet preaching one view or the other. Most of the cloth sites are in some way linked to the cloth diaper industry or environmental groups. They yell, "All the studies saying disposables are about equal to cloth in the end are funded by the diaper industry and we hate them...and George Bush too!" You don't really find any sites that are the opposite, but I'm sure they are out there.

All that said, the cloth diaper backers have yet to present me with good science to prove to me that I should be a cloth diaper lover. In fact, the only compelling evidence that I've found is from a great friend of ours. Her rhetoric sounds about the same, but it at least comes from somebody I know and trust. On the other hand, there are studies out there that break down the environmental impact on both sides of the fence, generally by independent research firms. I'm sure a little cash comes there way from somebody else, but I also understand that that is the way research gets done in this world, whether it's about drugs or business or diapers.

At this point, I think Christy is slightly on the cloth side. I'm on the disposable side all the way. I'm really on the "Christy needs to birth a potty-trained baby" side, but that's like voting for Nader.

So what do you think?

Cloth

Disposable

Pick one. I expect your answer under my door by Friday.