i so proud

Yesterday we had our first playdate at Magnus's preschool. I was actually excited to go, having put aside my issues about meeting other moms and having those awful platonic conversations about sippy cups and bowel movements.

Magnus did REALLY well, detaching himself from J almost immediately and flinging himself onto the small jungle gym. He proudly pointed to his name tag and declared, "I'm Magnus Alt" to anyone who would listen. At one point I turned around and he was sitting in the middle of the seasaw, grinning, surrounded by five little blonde girls.

Yep, I think he's adjusting just fine.

At the end of the playdate his teacher came up to me and said, "Magnus has the most amazing vocabulary! He is so eloquent for three. It's rare." I did the bashful curtsy while seriously fighting the urge to say, "Fuck yea, he's eloquent! Who you think you talkin to?"

We left the school hand-in-hand, me jabbering on and on to J about how brilliant our child was. "She complimented him after only ONE hour. Did she signal out any other kids? I didn't see her do that. Maybe she did, but she talked to us FIRST. He's gifted, I think."

"Of course he is," J said, although I couldn't tell if he was being sincere or agreeable, since I'm five months pregnant and majorly hormonal.

We will return to preschool today and I'm thinking I can sneak in some astronomy lessons on the ride over, just to give Mags the extra edge.

Not that I'm competitive, or anything.

i can hear you!!

I'm on the phone but I can hear you outside my office, talking like I'm not even there.

"This is Roya. She oversees public affairs. She's actually pregnant with twins."

"Really? You can't even tell."

Snarky laugh. "Actually, she's small to begin with. But about three weeks ago, BOOM! She just popped. You can't see it behind the desk, but wait til she stands up."

"Eeeuw, really?"

"She's going to get much bigger. I think she's only five months now, but just wait."

Gaggle of laughter ensues.

I can't turn around fast enough to give them both the stink eye, so I'll just continue eating my bagel, talking on the phone and reveling in my girth.

we need a vacation from you

Dear Boss,

I hope this note finds you well. Just wanted you to know, since I am sure you are thinking about it, that everything is fine. There are no crises threatening to derail our nearly 100-year old institution. Employees are showing up to work and even staying until late afternoon. Work is being completed on time and we are diligently handling all questions/requests in your absence.

So why the need to check email and call every day from your family vacation in Hawaii? Do you have any idea how ANNOYING and UNNECESSARY that is? Do you realize you are creating more work by forcing us to respond to you, plus also handle your work? You went on vacation last year and did the same thing, and the same thing before that. If I were your wife, I would have divorced you by now. You said you were going on vacation. Stay on vacation. Our team needs a vacation from you, too.

Love,
R

oh brother(s)

We had an ultrasound today and I couldn't bear the suspense anymore. While Dr. T (who J and I lovingly call Dr. Personality in honor of his penchant for not speaking) stared at the monitor, I blurted out, "Will we know the sex today?"

"Sure," he said. Then he continued to stare at the screen, make some notes and generally ignore me. After a few minutes he wiped my midsection and said, "Everything is good."

"So do we know?" I asked him, mildly hyper.

"We don't know," he replied. "But I know."

OMG, really? "So, Dr. T, what do you know?"

"What do you want?" he said.

Oh, we're playing that game. Okay. "A boy and a girl would be nice," I replied.

He shook his head. "This is out of the question."

Wha, what?? "Uh...is it...two girls?" I said, feeling my hands start to sweat. I'm a feminist and all but raising two girls, especially two teenage girls, might make me join the Taliban.

"Do you want two girls?"

I get what I want in this scenario? Well, well. "My husband wants a basketball team," I replied, "so two boys would be nice."

"Okay," he said, pretending to look down a list. "The preference is boy and girl, two boys, and last preference is two girls."

"Right!"

He nodded and said, "Your husband will have a basketball team. See you in two weeks."

"Are you KIDDING? TWO boys?"

"I'm not kidding. Make sure you get your glucose screen next week." And with that, Dr. Personality shook my hand and vacated the room.

There you have it. Cut and Paste, their working names, are two boys. I will share a house with four dudes. Magnus will have two little brothers to play with or beat up. I won't know the experience of raising a daughter. But I'm okay. I'm more than okay. I'm a mamma to three BOYS!

how much regressing is good?

Last week I had the great fortune of meeting Dr. Murad (THAT Dr. Murad, of the famed Murad skin care line). Our company is doing a cause marketing partnership with Murad in support of women's cancers research. The meeting was designed to immerse our team in the Murad philosophy of inclusive health.

But I digress.

Dr. Murad was kind enough to give us a tour of Murad's sprawling complex, show us his office and laboratory spaces, feed us fruit and then talk to us about his world view. All good until he discussed children and how we could all benefit from being more child-like.

Uhhhhhhhhh.....

I've heard this argument before but I decided to give it more consideration after our meeting. I fully believe that most adults are consumed by the mundane realities of life: the mortgage, car insurance, office politics, job stresses, etc. We don't laugh as much as we could or take the time to find pleasure in small things.

However, I am at a loss as to how I could become more child-like while still earning a living, raising a family and keeping my husband attracted to me. Baby talk is completely out of the question. I suppose I could stop cooking dinner and when Magnus and J look to me with hunger in their eyes, I could point to the backyard and yell, "Slide!" Or, when my boss gives me my budget and asks why I'm spending money on certain things, I could place my hand beneath my armpit and emit fart noises. Something along those lines?

I do try to make an effort as much as possible to reflect on the many positives of my life and find humor instead of looking at the negative, but that's as far as I can go without completely regressing and soiling my pants. I wonder, is Dr. Murad, who runs a multimillion dollar empire, really child-like in his views? I can't imagine the pressures of product development, research, marketing, fulfillment and customer service allowing for him to be whimsical, open and trusting.

But perhaps I'm just a battered, cynical old soul who is beyond help?