Baby Doll Fail

We're just about halfway through with the pregnancy, now, and it's time to start preparing Sumo for his new (85% likelihood of male) sibling. (We'll know for sure what the gender is next week.)

We've talked to Sumo about the new baby. Though at 23 months, who knows how much is sinking in? I noticed he took some minor interest in a little boy's (we saw him at the pool) baby doll and had an idea. What if I got Sumo a baby brother doll to help him learn how to be gentle with the baby, how we're going to feed the baby, and how to hold the baby? I'm an effing genius, I thought.

Until I went to Toys R Us to procure a male baby doll.

Total fail.

I know other bloggers have discussed the freakiness of baby dolls in previous posts, but nothing can prepare you for the true horror when you go down that pink aisle. There are so many options. Besides the fact that almost all of the dolls look dead, they do weird things. There are no basic dolls, anymore. They all laugh, pee, cry, or move. Or all of the above.

In fact, when you walk down the aisle, these plastic babies begin to crawl, wiggle, and laugh demonically as you approach.

And really, do you want something that looks like this to move? Aren't its turtle-like face and its splayed fingers terrifying enough without motion?

(Source)

I don't want a doll that does freaky things. I just want a basic doll. A basic, male doll.

I found this:

(Source)

Is it just me or does that child have a mushroom-shaped toupee? I don't think that the mushroom hair makes this kid male. Nor do the son-of-Damien looking eyes. He's androgynous at best. Moreover, he looks nothing like a baby.

I continued my search.

Finally, I discovered that they did have one male baby doll.

He's even anatomically correct! Well, that means he has boy parts. I'm not sure how anatomically correct the giant, gaping hole in his lips is.

(Source)

I'm ok with the fact that he has boy parts, actually. I can imagine the hilarity that will ensue when Sumo explains to his easily-traumatized grandmother, Granilla, that his baby doll brother has a "peenish." In fact, that mental image alone is almost enough to make me go back to Toys-R-Us and buy him right now.

The only reason I didn't procure him was that he pees. I figured with two actual male children who pee, I didn't need to spend money on a plastic one who does so, as well.

And so, I went to Toys-R-Us searching for a baby doll, and left with this instead.
(Source)

While I'm sure my kid will like this much, much better than a doll, it has nothing to do with baby brothers.

Unless you count the fact that Sumo can now bludgeon the new baby in the head with the plastic hammer ....

MILF Roundup Number 106: The International Law ... Er .... European Edition

I have once again been asked to guest host the MILP (Moms in the Legal Profession) weekly blog roundup. Because I like the word MILF better and am the guest host so I get to decide, we're going to call this the Moms in the Legal Field roundup. This is a weekly post done on a rotating basis between a few hawt bloggers and is supposed to appear on Sunday. I suck, so I'm doing it on Monday. But I'm pregnant. So I figure that in some way, that has to provide an excuse.

I've decided to make this week's theme the International Law edition ... because I'm moving abroad, and I'm self-centered like that. (SQUEEEE!!!!!!)

Over at Starting to Melt, Cee teaches her kid the joys of a good Oktoberfest. Who am I kidding? This week's theme has nothing to do whatsoever with international law, but it DOES have to do with Europe! (Insert major Trannyhead ego fest here.) Screw it, it's the European edition.

Over at Adventures of Out Law Mama, Dakota learns that the American ideal of working hard just plain sucks, and the European ideal of drinking instead is superior.

Butterflyfish decides to ditch the British stiff upper lip in favor of a major gnashing of teeth session.

LagLiv discusses the benefits of a la carte style dining.

JD Wannabe learns that there are worse fashion faux pas than wearing socks with your Teva sandals. (I realize that this is technically a post from last week, but it's hilarious so I'm using it anyway. And I'm the host, so I get to be insane like that.)

Magic Cookie teaches us that pretending to be European royalty is just plain wrong.

Proto Attorney really loathes the Bar Exam and feels that her state's attempts to make it about going on a lovely holiday while bass-fishing are just plain wrong. This is America. We don't take holidays, damnit.

Googiebaba tells us how the peon wants to address his feudal oppressor in front of a judge.

And Leo shows us that her beverage of choice while studying for the Bar is Italian sparkling water.

(Check back later for PTLawMom's update. It seems that her website is experiencing technical difficulties.)


********************

On another note, there is a sad passing to note. You readers may want to know that:

A friend of mine, who is also a blogger, recently deleted her entire blog. This blogger (let's just call her "ND") is a single mother and a public interest lawyer, and a few weeks ago she was forced to take her blog down suddenly. She wasn't allowed to say goodbye to her readers or offer any explanation as to why she deleted her blog, and I know that she feels really awful about this. Please don't mention the name of her blog in any of the comments to this post, but if you wish to say goodbye to her, she is most likely reading and would love to hear from you.

This blog was witty, inspiring, and the source of much latent lesbian fantasizing on my part. I'm sad, as I know you other readers must be, to see it go. It will be missed.

Boo-YA!

The Trannyhead is one seriously excited woman, today.

So ... you regular readers will know that my husband is going back on active duty as a JAG, right? Well ... we got our orders!

We get to stay here in Metropolis for a year (hubby will be on active duty in the local area) to finish out the pregnancy with my current doctor. SO excited about not switching doctors in the middle of pregnancy. And then?

We're going to Europe.

YEE-HAW!

I like to string you guys along a little, so I'm not going to tell you where, exactly. But suffice it to say that my tall, blonde child (and what will likely be another tall, blonde child) is going to fit right in where we're going ....


And we're UBER *ahem* excited!

Thing Not To Do # 3456: Take Toddler to OBGYN

I knew it was going to suck.

I always schedule my OB appointments for as late in the day as possible so that my husband can come home from work early to take over toddler duty while I go to the doctor. Unfortunately, for last week's 16 week appointment, hubby couldn't get away from work early enough. I was left with no choice but to take the toddler with me. And yes, I knew it was going to be unpleasant.

It would have been ok, really. You know how I said that I always take the last appointment? Yeah, well. That means that if they've been running behind all day, I'm screwed. If the appointment had been on time, we would have been in and out of there in 10 minutes. The 16 week appointment is an easy weigh/listen to baby stop in. Unfortunately, they had patients before me with major complications. We had to wait for over an hour in the waiting room to be seen.

OVER AN HOUR. WITH A 23 MONTH OLD.

Within 15 minutes, we exhausted the small supply of toddler toys in the waiting room. Within 20 minutes, we had consumed the bribery goldfish crackers I had brought along. Within 30, I wanted to peel out my eye with a spoon.

The thing I didn't understand was that all the preggos in the waiting room with me were giving me the stink eye. WTF? "I guess this is your first pregnancy. Just you WAIT, biotch," I thought to myself. "One day this will be you."

They decided after 45 minutes that at least I could go do a blood draw. I waddled back in there with the stroller. My kid took one look at the needles and commenced major bellow session. First, he thought they were going to hurt him. Then, he thought they were going to hurt me. Both resulted in epic hearing loss for anybody within a 4 mile radius.

"Should they stay back here in an exam room or go back to the waiting room?" I heard the tech ask.

"TAKE THEM BACK TO THE WAITING ROOM!" I heard a nurse bellow.

There was no way in hell they wanted us to sit back there a second longer than necessary. Though I must admit, I think we would have been seen faster if we'd stayed back in an exam room. More noise = faster service. But back to the waiting room we went. Insert more dirty looks from fellow patients here. Insert more squirmy toddler frustration.

Finally, we were ushered back to an actual exam room where we got to listen to the baby's heart. My toddler liked this. He thought this was great fun. Until he determined he couldn't hold the medical equipment.

*sigh*

At least he's cute.

How to Enjoy July 4

Like most dogs, most toddlers are terrified by fireworks.

Most. NOT my kid.

My kid cried when the fireworks were over.

My kid said, "fireworks again? More fireworks please? More?"

Because really, what's more American than using an ancient Chinese technology to blow shiz up?

(As an aside, I have no idea who the hell this woman is holding my child, but her hair is totally hawt. It was hard for me to see the fireworks seeing as I had a big white box over my head. People behind me kept screaming, "You with the box on your head! We can't see!" I gave them the finger.)

Happy 4th, biotches.

Made From Scratch

There are things I never thought in a million years I'd be doing.

If you had told me when I was in high school that I would be an Army wife, I would have laughed in your face. If you'd told me I would have loved being at home with my son? I would have snorted. Hell, if you had told me two years ago that I would be pregnant again already, I would have peed myself (due to hysteria and lack of bladder control post-delivering a 9 and a half lbs. baby).

But one thing trumps all.

A few weeks ago, I made birthday invitations for my son's second birthday. I MADE THEM.

I know there are lots of crafty moms out there. The ones who like to scrapbook, make hand-made Halloween costumes, and bake cookies. I'm all about outsourcing. My scrapbooks? Are done at Shutterfly. My Halloween costumes will ALWAYS be store-bought. I can't even hem. And cookies? I might bake them if I can get my hands on some pre-made Otis Spunkmeyer dough. Well, if I don't eat all the dough raw first, of course.

But I MADE BIRTHDAY INVITATIONS. I'd show them to you, but there was so much personal info on there that needed to be redacted that you couldn't even see the damn thing when I was done with it. Just trust me when I say they were Mickey Mouse shaped, covered in crafty hawtness, and decidedly out of trannyhead character.

I was disturbed. I had looked at the Mickey Mouse-themed invitations in the store, decided they were unworthy, and summarily dismissed them. WTF? Since when do I think homemade is better? I'm having an identity crisis, readers.

Equally disturbing, I'm not whining too much about being pregnant, yet. Granted, I'm only 16 weeks, so I'm not uncomfortable. BUT. I have been much more tolerant of the various symptoms this time. I know the weight gain will go away. The sinus headaches due not to congestion, but to swollen sinus tissue, are making me insane. Especially since everything I've tried (and believe me, I've tried it all) does jack. However, I know that they will eventually pass. The kicking I can now feel in my lower abdomen hasn't lost its charm, yet. I'm even tolerating the fact that Baby #2 is already measuring big.

I'm FREAKING OUT HERE, people. I began to doubt myself. Am I losing my inner tranny head?!

No.

One thing is continuous.

The tranny rage.

While I might be more tolerant this time of kicks to my bladder, I'm decidedly intolerant of everybody and everything else. My hormonal rage knows no bounds.

Now please excuse me while I go rip somebody a new one for parking in the "pregnant" spot when they aren't pregnant. It's therapeutic, really.

I must counteract my craft-making by practicing my craft.

23 Months

Twenty three months. How is this possible?

A year ago, he looked like this:
A chubby little baby.

Now? He spends his time doing this:

And we're only a month away from 2.

In honor of 23 months, I'm going to provide you with 10 fun facts about the Sumo.

1. He can now sing the alphabet song. He can also point to and identify letters correctly 95% of the time.

2. He is a total mama's boy. I realize that some of this is his age, but some of it I think may have to do with his dad's deployment. I've been the only constant caregiver in his life, and he's very distressed when I leave for any reason. In fact, he apparently cried for an hour when I left him with my husband for a grocery store excursion this past weekend. It's frustrating, but I'm sure he'll grow out of it.

3. He wants a dog. He tells me this 11,000 times a day. "Mama, I want a dog/puppy." Seeing as we're moving soon, I think the dog wish is a ways off. But soon, perhaps.

4. He's still a total daredevil. Afraid of nothing and no one.

5. Related to #4, he lives in a perpetual state of bruises and scrapes. Thankfully, he's not a wimp. I frequently have people tell me, "Wow - he's tough. He didn't react to that? That's amazing."

6. He likes to watch Ninja Warrior.

7. He likes to eat fried okra.

8. He now says, "I love you, mama."

9. His hair remains fantastic, though it's getting annoying that he's basically a one man band wherever we go. People point and stare and want to touch it, which irritates me to no end.

10. He's totally hawt. Duh.