Apologies to Miss Manners

John and I spent the morning registering for baby products at Babies R Us and Target. If Miss Manners is to be believed, this makes us incredibly tacky. In response to a question in one of my parenting magazines about birthday gifts, she bemoaned the state of gift giving and gift registries in particular.

I have no particular desire to stick it to Miss Manners, but I disagree with her assertion that gift registries are only for rude and presumptuous parents-to-be. I actually think that gift registries are a courtesy for friends and family who want to purchase a gift. They provide an easy way to see what the recipients want, need, and have already received. They also help people who, like us less than six months ago, know nothing about baby gear and become disoriented in the aisles of their local baby superstore.

Right or wrong, we had a good time researching and selecting the items on our list. I even managed to pry the scanner from John’s hand long enough to scan one or two items myself.

City Champ, Interrupted

My last official, pre-baby tennis match was a big one – the ALTA City Finals. As I waddled into the tennis center surrounded by perky ladies in cute tennis dresses, I couldn't help but wonder what I was doing playing in such an important match at nearly six and a half months pregnant. Fortunately for me, tennis (at least at my level) is an equal opportunity sport. In past seasons I've had my ass handed to me by a pair of senior citizens in knee braces, so it was with no small amount of pleasure that I showed a couple of women from Marietta that even a pregnant lady can win at the finals.


Despite this personal victory, my team did not win enough individual matches to claim the championship. It's hard to be too disappointed, though. In just three short seasons we've gone from losing every single match to making a very serious run at the championship. Most importantly, I've made a lot of amazing friends who care enough to worry as I run around the court with my ever-expanding belly and ice me down between sets like a whale being transported to a new tank.

Six Months Pregnant, Still Kicking Butt

As I walked onto the court for my second match of the tennis playoffs, one of my opponents declared me "cute" for playing while pregnant. She seemed to find me decidedly less cute as my partner and I closed out the third set for a win that clinched our team's place in the ALTA City Championships.

I am very proud of the fact that I'm still playing well six months into my pregnancy. In fact, I haven't lost a match in this entire pregnant season. My little girl will either love tennis or get motion sickness when she thinks about it.

Rico Hates Tom Hanks

While watching TV tonight, I hit pause during the middle of a commercial for The Da Vinci Code and waited for John to return from the kitchen. It landed on a still frame of Tom Hanks as Robert Langdon, an image so creepy that it actually roused Rico from his deep slumber on the couch and forced him, for the first time in seven years, to actually look at the image on the TV.

He regarded the screen warily at first, then began to growl and raise his hackles. He spent a full minute alternating between an intense desire to flee the horrifying man on screen and a sense of obligation to protect his family from it. I'm not sure who decided that Tom Hanks was a good choice for this character and I really can't comprehend the hair style he sports in the film. I would not, however, have guessed that he had the capacity to scare innocent pets.

Musings in the Target Baby Aisle

Jennifer: "We need to remember to register for receiving blankets."
John: "What is that for, receiving puke?"
Jennifer: "No, I think that's a burp cloth."
John: "Then what is a receiving blanket for?"
Jennifer: "For, um, receiving the baby... ?"
John: "Receiving the baby from what?"
Jennifer: "I have no idea."

Conclusion: More research on receiving blankets is needed.

Whale Watching

John and I took the day off on Friday to visit the new Georgia Aquarium. We intentionally waited a while after the opening in hopes that the crowds would die down and we could avoid huge herds of screaming kids. With our own screaming kid on the way and my ever-expanding baby belly, we decided it was time to go ahead and make the trip.

The good news: no one mistook me for a new whale exhibit and tried to toss me into a tank. The bad news: we are definitely not prepared for the noise level that comes along with big groups of excited children. I guess we’ll have to rethink our plan to have 18 kids and replace that family on TLC.

More photos from the Aquarium

Here's Hoping

As John painted the nursery on Sunday, I watched a documentary on the National Geographic channel called Inside 9/11. The show was terrifying in its detail of the events leading up to 9/11 and the horror that unfolded on that day. It immediately transported me back to that morning, the one John and I spent in the airport about to board a flight from Atlanta to Los Angeles where we would then connect to Maui. We were standing in line to board the plane, surrounded by couples in Hawaiian shirts, when we heard a man on his cell phone behind us announce that the World Trade Center had been hit by a plane. The next two hours were completely surreal, sitting in a crowded airport café watching news coverage of the towers falling and the befuddled reactions of pilots, flight attendants, and passengers as they heard the news.

The show illustrated the very best and worst of human nature – the men and women who courageously gave or risked their lives to save complete strangers and the religious fanatics who in their own minds justified the killing of thousands of innocent people in the name of God. It also made me think about the world that I am bringing my daughter into and my hopes for her future. I hope, first and foremost, that she will be healthy and safe and not live in a world where she has to be afraid when she goes to school, to the store, or to work.

The rest of the list goes something like this:

I hope she will be left-handed, so I can teach her how to hold a pencil, tie her shoes, and swing a tennis racket.

I hope she will have John’s straight teeth and my good eyesight.

I hope she will love macaroni & cheese as much as I do.

I hope she will not love Vienna Sausages as much as I used to.

I hope she will never smoke.

I hope she will find something she loves to do and become very good at it.

I hope there will still be coral reefs and polar bears in the world by the time she’s old enough to travel and appreciate them.

I hope there will be a female president in her lifetime, but not one with the last name Bush, Rice, or Clinton.

I hope she will not hate or condemn people solely on the basis of their skin colors, religious beliefs, or sexual orientations.

I hope she will share a long and happy life with someone she loves as much as I love her father.

Yellow, but not mellow

Our nursery design began in earnest this weekend as we unleashed our tropical island theme on the unsuspecting, formerly builder beige bedroom. We decided early in the pregnancy that we would stay away from traditional pastel colors for the nursery, and the Beach Ball Yellow that now covers the majority of the walls proves that we're not playing. Best of all, there's more color to come!

Here's a preview of the room transformation.