Is it weird that when I saw this frame I read, "The only thing worth stealing is a sleeping child?"

Yeah, I don't think I'm buying that for the nursery.  I don't want to give anyone any ideas.

Nursery Shopping OR Josh Banging His Head Against a $900 Crib While I Insist It's The Only Crib that Will Ever Make Me Happy

Yesterday I began the fantastic journey of shopping for our children's nursery.  A nursery is a place where you can paint the walls and put all the things you would never dream of putting anywhere else in your house.  Josh says I'm very opinionated.  I told him to shut his face.  Here are my very strong opinions on a child's nursery, specifically my children's nursery (but this won't keep me from judging your child's nursery by the same standards.)

Baby pink and baby blue combo in a twin nursery is vomit-inducing
Nursery Rhyme character bedding should be kept in 1932
Wall decals should be used sparingly as they are hideous
If your baby bedding looks like a fabric a stripper might wear, it's probably meant to stay on (or off) the stripper
Your baby boy probably doesn't want white frilly bedding regardless of how cute you YOU think it is

I totally just threw up all over my computer screen

So I went shopping yesterday with my fabulous sister in law.  I always need to take inventory and form very strong attachments to things before getting my husband involved.  Josh always says, "it's just stuff."  And I respond, "Yes, stuff we NEED!"
I spend 3 hours picking out absolutely gorgeous custom bedding that is perfect for my boy/girl room.  I worked hard to keep my lunch down as I pushed past the paisley, toile, and gingham prints to find the designs that were "just right" for my soon-to-be very opinionated children.
Once I had my mind set, I came home and set up Central Command in the living room.  More research and detailed planning would be necessary to convince Josh of the big investment ahead.  Posters, graphs, and pie charts were set up strategically in order to show my husband that our babies simply couldn't live in a world without all of this important "stuff."

I lovingly prepared a beautiful dinner of take-out wings to warm over the cold heart of my evil husband who doesn't believe in the value of good stuff.  We went over the pictures and prices for what seemed like hours...
Josh:  Why do babies need this crap?
Me:  Excuse me?? What did you call this?
Josh: I mean, why do they need custom bedding?  They don't even care where they're sleeping on or what their room looks like.
Me:  Honey, you may not realize this but a parent's love is only measured by how much money he spends on his child.  Do you want me to tell our children that they were born into a world where they slept in hand-me-down cribs on bulk store-bought bedding??
Josh: God forbid.

***fast forward to today.  I smiled and beamed at the beautiful relationship I have with my AMEX as I put it on the store counter to buy our custom crib bedding.
But SHUT UP!  Did you see that unbelievable glider in the corner?  What fabrics does that come in?  Do you have anything CUSTOM?  OMG!  Burp cloths with polka dots and flowers?  You mean my kids get to throw up on that?  Oooh!  How much is that rocking horse by that dresser?  I know they can't use it for a few years but it's a good investment, right?  That twin bed is adorable!  What colors does it come in?  I can put them in storage until the kids are ready!  Should I buy an extra one in case they have friends sleep over?....

An Awesome Post, OBviously.

Yesterday I had an appt with my OB.  Having twins means double the doctor appointments.  I like going to my OB for many reasons:

1.  The cafeteria menu is listed inside the elevator and it changes weekly.
2.  The lunch special on the cafeteria menu is only $4.99 and always sounds delicious.
3.  They have magazines where I learn everything I need to know about having babies.  I am totally prepared.
4.  There are other pregnant women there so I can ask them when they're due and then compare our fatness based on our respective due dates.
5.  When I have to get my blood drawn they always tell me what a good job I did.

At this particular appointment we listened to the babies' heartbeats and they told me their numbers, which is about as meaningful to me as knowing the score in a cricket match so I smiled and nodded because the nurse didn't seem freaked out.
*Weird fact about baby's heart beats shared by a nurse:  Do you know some moms like to record the heartbeat and make it their ringtones?  WTF weird ass moms?  Are you trying to scare the entire whole of America when your phone rings in public?  It's like a Darth Vader attack mixed with the sound of the end of the world (Don't get me wrong, it's truly beautiful to hear your baby's heart beat and all that shmultzy stuff...)

Then the doctor came in, measured my stomach, told me I was fat and asked me some questions.
Doctor: Um, what are you doing?

Me: (As I try to saw my neck off with the blood pressure measuring thing)  Oh, I'm just trying to saw my neck off with the blood pressure measuring thing.

Doctor: And why are you doing that?

Me:  You see I have these headaches that make me fantasize about jumping off of parking decks or running over my head with a 4-wheeler.

Doctor:  You should take extra strength tylenol

(I resume trying to saw my neck off)

Doctor: Or, I recommend small meals and plenty of protein

Me:  Do 5 pound blocks of cheese count for protein?

Doctor:  Well, that's one option...

Now, I'm sure the doctor knows what he's talking about but I get my share of protein.  Why, just this morning for breakfast I had seasoned beef tenderloin, a pop tart, and a cheese stick.  I should WRITE the baby books.

So here I am, eating my afternoon snack of cheddar and gouda sliced onto swiss, pondering the great questions of pregnancy.
Why can't my bladder empty itself all at once?  Is it really necessary for me to wear clothes everywhere?  Do I have more of a responsibility to act like I care about other people's babies now that I'm pregnant?  Does Target give cash back or only store credit?  Where did this cat come from?

Phasing Out The Cat

Let me start off this post with the ugly truth: I am not an animal lover.  I prefer tiny fluffy things that are potty trained and clean up after themselves.  I'm not a huge fan of dogs as their slobber smells like spoiled milk on a hot day and it grosses me out when they poop in public.  Can dogs not be toilet trained?  It's 2011 people!  Where is the innovation?  And don't even get me started on birds, otherwise known as "the most pointless animals on the face of the planet."  If you can dispute this fact, please email me with a well-thought-out list of why birds do have a purpose so that I can pretend to read it and flush it down the toilet.  What animal flies over you making horribly obnoxious sounds and then drops poop on you that isn't even the color of real poop?  Want to go for a car wash?  Sounds great until Mr. Bird comes by and does his doody on your sparkling windows.
So you get my point.  I'm not a particular lover of animals.  I do, however, love my cat.  Not in the "You are my furry child and I discuss you at all social events kind of way," but more in the "A tornado blew down my house, we haven't seen food in 3 days, and I still haven't eaten you" kind of way.  Now I know this is slightly ironic as cats are one of the most hated animals on the planet but I never claimed to be normal, and, when we have guests, I always offer to lock her in the bedroom.

Eden-The photo that inspired what I've been doing for the last 3 months.

So now, in the midst of nesting (sitting on my ass watching reruns of Nickelodeon cartoons,)  I begin a new endeavor: Phasing Out The Cat.  In less than 5 months, we will have two attention-seeking monkeys added to our bunch (no, not real monkeys-just the kids) and Josh and I are both aware that Eden will not be able to receive her usual attention (me brushing her once every three months, Josh pushing her off the couch.)  Therefore we have begun the slow process of pretending the cat doesn't exist.  We are trying to make her aware of what's to come.  

When she meows for food:

 Me: Do you hear something?

Josh: I don't hear anything

Me: I could have sworn I heard something.

Josh:  Maybe it's just the wind.

When her litter needs to be changed:

Me: Do you smell something?

Josh: I don't smell anything.

Me: I could have sworn I smelled something.

Josh: Maybe you just broke wind.

As of now, Operation Phase Out The Cat is in full swing.  We welcome guests and visitors, but when you come, please assist us by ignoring the cat or the fact that we even have a cat.    

Is it Hot in Here or is it Just my Uterus?

Two days ago we had our 16 week check up at the Perinatal specialist.  The first thing you should know is that my doctor is hot, which makes me feel a little uncomfortable with him so close to my hoo-ha.  Although, why I think a 65 year old male OB going down there is perfectly normal, I have no reasonable explanation.
Josh says the doctor is not "hot."  He's just young and a doctor.  I stand by my original observation but must agree that adding Dr. to any guy's last name ups his hotness, except Dr. Kevorkian.  That doesn't count.
The point of this post, however, is not to tell you how hot my doctor is or how hot you too can be by adding Dr. to your title.  The point is to tell you the three wonderful pieces of news I received on this appointment!
1.  We are having a baby boy.
2.  We are having a baby girl.
3.  My uterus is beautiful.
Referring to numbers 1 and 2, we couldn't be more excited.  The kids didn't want to show off their private parts for a while (they take after their father) and I didn't appreciate this alleged shyness.  I had some choice words with the children and eventually each one relented showing a mini peepee and a tiny hoo-ha.  Joy of joys!
Now to the news that was most surprising-my beautiful uterus.  I'm not making this up.  I am quoting my nurse when she looked at me with a twinkle in her eye and said, "Your uterus is beautiful."  At this point, Josh leaned over to reiterate the fact, "Honey, your uterus IS beautiful."  How exciting is this news??  I totally asked the nurse, along with the pics of the twinkadinks, to throw in a couple of good uterus shots to post on my facebook wall.  Who wants to look at the same old ultrasound pictures when you can take a look at (and I quote) my beautiful uterus?

Would it be Strange to Decapitate Myself?

I wouldn't change my pregnancy for the world.  I will take every bit of the good and bad it in order to have healthy little people one day barfing on my couches and peeing down the side of my new sundress.  However, these headaches are getting a little out of control.  I mean, I can handle my skin being pockmarked like I'm 15 and even the bouts of nausea that can only be cured by something greasy and fried, but I've been seriously considering self-decapitation.  I could carry my head around with me like some sort of Shakespearean actor until the headaches subside and I'm ready to put it back on.  I mean, I don't really need my head anyway, right?
Josh said he only hopes our children are born with functioning brains.  Apparently with me as their mom, they only have a 50% chance of this.  I mean, there could be way worse odds than that!  My brain functions, just on a different playing field where I invent my own games and I always win.
So back to the serious matter at hand.  I'd like to do a study where 10 people take Tylenol (the headache "curer" for pregnant women) and 10 people take placebos.  Unfortunately, I already know the results so the study would be completely futile.  Tylenol is simply a placebo by any other name.  Someone is making beaucoup bucks marketing sugar pills as "Tylenol" and the masses are sucking them down and emptying their wallets for zero relief!
So I think my next step is to start swallowing actual sugar cubes, like a horse.  I don't know what the effects will be but I can guarantee they will be more satisfying than a couple of Tylenol.  I could digress into an entire other conversation about the placebo they call Airborne but I'll spare you and save that for another day.

When Will I Become Certifiably Insane?

So I'm 16 weeks pregnant and still relatively normal.  When do I go off the deep end?  Will pregnancy brain kick in on hyper drive some day when I least expect it and I run off offending hundreds of people, or even worse, eat a vegetable??  Although, to the average person, I might seem insane.  I wear pajamas most days as they fit best.  So I'm wandering around Brookhaven looking like a fat hobo.  I eat as though every meal is my last.  I spend my days waiting for my next meal.  I'm like a dog with a gut.
And every day I think about the two munchkins growing inside me.  Will they be normal and sensible like Josh?  Or will they be totally pissed when a presidential address interrupts the new episode of The Bachelorette?  I mean, who does that?  There's only one episode left!  If I wanted to watch the president say something I'd turn on CNN or CSpan.  But no people, I'm watching ABC.  And now what's going to happen to my recording of Extreme Makover: Weight Loss Edition?  I'll tell you what happened, I stayed up until midnight watching Extreme Makeover not knowing how to record it, only to watch the woman still be obese at the end.  It's like dreaming about eating cake only to wake up and find out you don't have cake.
Okay, maybe that's a terrible example but I could really go for a piece of cake right now.  Instead I'm going to have two Smart Ones meals.  One for me, and one for the babies.  That's normal, right?  I mean, I'm not ruling out cake.  It's just that we don't have any and I don't feel like going out in my pajamas again to get cake.  After I have the babies I'm going to start a new business of a drive through cakery.  That way, when you get the urge for cake, you could slip out of the house in your negligee and no one has to be the wiser!  This is totally my idea but if you steal it, just let me know where you open up shop so I can stop by.  Or, worst case scenario, I'm fine if someone wants to open a Krispy Kreme near me.  That would suffice.