Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Rutabagas, skeletons, helmets and safety

Dear Internet;

Hi.  I have something really important to tell you.  This exists.  For realz, yo.  It was brought to my attention by an old friend who is almost as pregnant as I am.  So, I can get a helmet for my kid, put him on a leash (with those ridiculous yet adorable animal backpack leash things) and I don't know... I guess put knee pads on him when he starts crawling? 

When I was setting up my registry at Amazon, I asked Mr. Adventure if we need those little mitt things that keep babies from clawing their faces.  His response about mitts for babies was nearly as passionate as his anti-onesie rant.  He said that if the kid claws his face enough, he will learn not to do it and he doesn't want a 14 year old who doesn't understand that fingernails are sharp that says, "I wonder what would happen if I stick this in my eye?" and then jabs himself in the eye with his fingernail because he did not learn at an early age that that is a terrible idea.  Hilariously exaggerated, but I understood his point.  It seems like parents in the U.S. super shelter their kids. 

I have four brothers and was raised by a single mom, so my childhood was akin to Lord of the Flies.  If one of us didn't end up in the emergency room at least once a month, we felt we weren't doing our duty as children.  Though, it was one of my younger brothers who seemed to end up there the most often.  Like the time he thought it would be a good idea to swallow a penny.  (I think he was old enough to know better.  But I was about 12 when I shoved the end of a carrot in my ear and couldn't get it out.  At least I was embarrassed enough about what a stupid idea it was to blame it on one of my younger brothers when asked what happened).

I remember when I fist moved to Central America, I was riding the city bus to work (I had been there maybe three days) and I saw this kid who looked to be about six years old, sitting on the curb of a busy street, peeling a mango with a machete that was approximately half his body length.  I found this shocking, to put it mildly.  But, after constant exposure to this sort of thing, I started thinking: why not give a six year old a knife?  I mean, if they learn how to handle things responsibly from an early age, the chances are they are less likely to accidentally cut off their arm when they are a teenager, right? 

I've been reading a lot about free range parenting, too.  Because, really, people are raising children to be self-sufficient, right?  I was doing my own laundry at six and getting myself into trouble even before then.  All on my own.

I am 25 weeks pregnant now.  The internet tells me that McCloud is about the size of a rutabaga.  Whereas I very much enjoy saying and typing the word "rutabaga," I have no idea what a rutabaga looks like.  Or how big it is.  However, when I quickly googled "Rutabaga Recipes" just now, I came across a recipe for mashed rutabaga, and I find that hilarious.  So, if you want to make mashed rutabaga, here is the link.

We had to get another ultrasound last week because the ultrasound tech couldn't get a good picture of the heart at my twenty week appointment.  People keep telling me about how their ultrasound techs were wrong about the gender, and I told my tech that.  She got pretty offended and showed me again that McCloud is definitely a boy.  I feel kind of dirty now for looking.  But I hear that is not the last time I will see his penis, so I better get used to it.  My midwife later told me that she has never known the ultrasound tech to be wrong about a baby's gender.

The ultrasound tech also pointed out to me that McCloud was yawning.  She seemed far more excited about it than I was.  I mean, at 24 weeks, the baby still has translucent skin and you can see all his bones, so he looked like this tiny, creepy skeleton with a see through skin orb around him yawning.  I mean.. oh!  Yay!  The baby is yawning!  Of course he's yawning.  It's probably boring as shit in there.

I still haven't received the size up I requested for my graduation gown to encompass my giant, growing belly for this Saturday.  I'm thinking if I don't get it in time, I will just cut a belly hole in my current gown and have a fetus in a graduation cap painted on my belly.  Umbilical cord included, of course.

Not really, but that would be hilarious.

That is all.

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