Oh Yeah, Elizabeth Has Arrived

Last week I had a baby. It was scary and quick and involved many drugs - I had some kind of syndrome that apparently you don't want to have - and now Elizabeth is here.

She is adorable. Every person who runs into her, including labor and delivery nurses who have all seen thousands of babies, talk about how cute she freaking is. Because she is. The puppies love her, her grandparents love her, her daddy loves her and I love her like nothing has ever been loved before.

I am very happy. Thank God for small, little packaged miracles.

Harry Potter Spoiler Alert

DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T FINISHED HP7.

Just wanted to gloat. I made two predictions early, one after the 5th book and one after the 6th book and I was correct in both cases.

1. Snape was never evil because he was in love with Lily, his love for her caused him to run to Dumbledore when he realized the evil one was going after the Potter family.
2. Harry was the final horcrux.

To all my naysaying friends who thought my predictions were wrong...in the words of the immortal Nelson from the Simpsons...ha ha.

Baby Terror Begins

Today was my 36 week appointment. As I will be having a c-section one week early (my baby is stubbornly breech) this means I have 3 weeks to go. Exactly. 3 weeks from today I will be co-parenting.

How terrifying is that? I mean, seriously, how terrifying is that? How does one strike the right balance to get a kid who is rebellious while not doing drugs or activities that could kill him or her? How does one support individuality without raising a complete asshole with no respect for manners and norms? How does one make sure the kid is a Democrat? How does one make sure the kid doesn't marry a Republican? Or, even worse, God forbid, some kind of fundamentalist religious zealot?

These are the big questions. This doesn't even approach the little questions of, how does one change a diaper?

Hobbes the Carpet Chewer

Tonight the husband and I went to a friend's house for a light dinner (remember I am on restricted activity so I can do about 4 hours out a day, which means we were out of the house for no more than 4 hours) and someone (I think the only human in the house with a Y chromosome) shut Hobbes up in our bedroom. He panicked. He does not like to be enclosed, he was never a crate puppy although we did try. So, alone in our bedroom he:

• tore up the carpet
• ate the laundry basket
• dragged many shoes and clothing items into the middle of the room
• tried to open the door and cut himself trying so there is blood on the door handle
• pulled all the pillows and down comforter off the bed and there's blood on all of them
• pulled the towels out of the adjoining bathroom

I am not angry at all at him. He was terrified, I know this about him. I also know that he spent 4 hours thinking we had abandoned him and he couldn't get out. I hate that this happened to him. I arrived home and he wasn't at the door so I immediately ran through the house yelling his name thinking he must have died since he always greets me when I get home. I hear his muffled bark from the bedroom. My poor little angel.

Now of course (after I have spent much $ on him this summer and we are dead freaking broke) we have to do something about the carpet in the bedroom...argh.

It's Been a While

I have been put on restricted activity/modified bed rest. So there's not much to report as I am very bored...although I have discovered the magic of One Tree Hill, so there's that.

But today something funny and exciting happened so I thought I would relate the story.

We are redoing the baby's room (or making a guest room into a baby room) which includes getting a new carpet. I was told by the carpet people the guy would be here between 9 and 11am. So I rise to get ready around 8am. (just a note of reminder, I have two dogs who hate it when strangers come to the house so any kind of installation is always a real exciting barking moment) 807am the doorbell rings. I am in a white (basically see through) nightgown that barely covers my bum given my pregnant state. I have two big labradors barking to beat the band. I run to the front door. It's the freakin' carpet guy. I have to go out to his truck (in my freakin' nightgown) to sign and check it's the correct carpet (in my nightgown, on the street, with two dogs barking so the whole neighborhood is looking out the window). The dogs bust through the back door, let themselves out and begin to peruse the neighborhood sniffing (this is why my friend Matt said he'll never let his dogs visit my house because I'll ruin their near-perfect training). Now I have to get them back in the house (in my nightgown). I then have to fight with the two labradors who would like to help the man install the carpet (while in my nightgown, while they're barking).

At the end of it all, the carpet looks great. The man was very nice. And I have a reputation for being a crazy mooning woman....

I'm a Sucker

I've been completely drawn in to the Princess Diana concert from Wembley Stadium, London on VH1. She died on my 23rd birthday weekend and I remember thinking, this is why I never want to be famous. Just to be clear, I am a real American who thinks royalty is bull and inherited wealth is bad (although I'd like to be in the line that gets Bleinham Palace) and I was never turned on by her whole story while she was alive...I was not really into the fairy tale. But she was kind of a neat lady, I think, doing all the unpopular work and going places other people wouldn't go years before it became fashionable for celebrities to do this work.

Anyway, this is a nice concert. And not too schmultzy and not too sad.