Life of pregnant Bethie meets Battle of the sexes

So this is a story about Nick and me. A story that demonstrates just how well I know my husband. And also about how we are meant to be because no other girl would put up with this, let alone still like him.
We've just gotten back from running errands somewhere. Our garage is too little, so Nick has to let me out in the driveway and then pull into the garage. I walk up between the cars, when Nick points out that he needs to get in the backseat to get the bags. I shimmy back a few steps.

Nick: Maybe you should...
Me: What?
Nick: Uhhhh.
Me: No. I don't think so. Not funny.
Nick: But I didn't say it.
Me: Too mean. Not funny.
Nick: But it is funny.
Me: But that doesn't mean you should say it.
Nick: But I didn't say it!
Me: But you were going to.
Nick: But I didn't.
Me: Sigh.

Are you thoroughly confused because you can't read Nick's mind like I can? Let me elucidate. Nick was thinking it would be appropriate for me to make the backing-up-beeping noise that giant trucks make. Because I'm such a wide load right now. Funny? Perhaps. If it were characters on TV. But despite my self-righteous indignation, even I have to admit... it really is funny. And he's just too darn handsome (in my unbiased, objective opinion) to stay mad at for long.

The end.

Life of pregnant Bethie: The waiting is the hardest part

I told a lie last time. I'm going to talk about babies again. Sorry. Lots of stuff going on at work, but it would require such a detailed (and technical) background explanation that I'm pretty sure I'd just drive you away, never to return to my humble blog.

I could probably also talk about the delicioso y fabuloso Reese's cheesecake bars I made for our Sunday School Christmas party last night. But I have no pictures, and it just wouldn't be fair to talk about something so very incredibly delicioso y fabuloso (and believe me friends, they were) when you can't take a bite yourselves. In a nutshell, Williams-Sonoma cheesecake + 2 bags' worth of chopped Reese PB cups +  PB-chocolate ganache = wonderful goodness.

So I'm left with the baby. And how we're ready for her to be here. When the ob told me Thursday that he thought it would be any day now (and probably not January 6), we got a fire under our butts regarding getting ready for Gizmo. So now the diaper bags are stocked, the hospital suitcase is packed, the carseat is in the car, etc etc. The only thing we don't have... the baby. Everyone at works wants me to sit still and not sneeze so she'll stay inside as long as possible. Nick, on the other hand, wants me doing squats and jumping jacks and suicide sprints because he is impatient, like a kid at Christmas. As a compromise, I'm taking Izzy on a mostly-leisurely walk this morning before church.

Guess we'll see what happens, huh?

Life of pregnant Bethie: The bright side

Sorry for all the pregnancy blogging, kiddos, but I just have baby on the brain. Well, more like baby on the bladder if we're talking literally. But seriously, with all the dancing and grooving she's doing in there, it's hard not to think about her pretty much every waking minute.
If you've talked to me pretty much at all over the last 8 months, you know I'm not the biggest fan of being pregnant. I'm sure she's worth it, blah, blah, babies are great, blah, blah. I don't like being pregnant. But in an attempt to turn that frown upside down, after immense effort I have identified two not-so-bad things about the current situation.

1) Less shedding
It will catch up with me later, but I'm enjoying it for now.

2) Satisfaction for my control-freak side
Yes, I know lots of things beyond my control have been happening lately. But just go with me here... I, more than anyone else, know exactly what's going on with her minute by minute. If Nick were the pregnant one, it could be hours between updates. And I couldn't trust that he'd pay adequate attention to her moving, or his total water intake for the day, or Braxton-Hix contractions, etc etc. But since my brain gets a direct and continuous feed from my uterus, I am never without material over which to obsess. And Nick will tell ya, nothing makes Bethie happy like having something to worry about. :)

Roundabout two weeks and counting. I'll try really hard to think of something else to talk about next time. Until then, peace.

Some rules of baking (and when to break them)

1) Underbake everything by 5 minutes.
Unless it's bread. Gooey bread is gross.

2) Add more vanilla.
Unless you've already doubled the vanilla when you copied the recipe. 2 Tablespoons when it was originally 1 1/2 teaspoons might be overkill.

3) Homemade is always better than pre-packaged.
Unless it's dulce de leche. Just not worth it. As I discovered tonight. See #4, below.

4) Don't bake angry; this leads to incomplete following of directions and guaranteed failure.
Unless you're in such a bad mood that the outcome actually seems funny and breaks your funk. Like tonight, when I didn't put the baking dish of sweetened, condensed milk (supposed to become dulce de leche after 60 minutes in a 425 degree oven) in a water bath, causing it to boil over vigorously and leave black gunk all over the oven and smoke residue on the stove and a haze that's still hanging in the air. Adding too much flour, now that's just kinda annoying. This was hilarious. I mean, hilarious.

Bring on Christmas. Think I'll enjoy my re-discovered Christmas cheer by baking something. Happily.

Great expectations

I arrived home before Nick today and found a couple packages by the front door, one of which was (hear the angels sing) Fannie May candy. Mom sends us a box of Trinidads and a box of Pixies every Christmas. Yum. Forget Girl Scout Cookies; this is the really good stuff.
I called Nick and told him I had a little surprise for him when he got home. A half hour later, he walked through the door, and I presented him with his box o' chocolately goodness.

Nick: Ooooohhh... Nice. Ya know, when you told me you had a surprise, the first thing I thought of was you having the baby.

I guess I'm not the only one with Gizmo on the brain.

PS Exactly one month to our due date! I'm calling December 30.

We've lost the funk

Christmas is coming, but I'm just not feeling it. I don't know why. Maybe it's the 70+ degree temperatures outside. Or the fact that our front yard still looks pitiful, despite Nick's best attempt at dolling it up with Christmas decorations. Or maybe all this focus on the bun in my oven has distracted me. I mean, I'm actually off on Christmas day for the first time in three years. This year should be a big deal. But enthusiasm eludes me.
Maybe a little Christmas baking and tree-trimming will help. If not, I could always try steroids.

Oh, the irony

I saw a commercial for this product for the first time on What Not to Wear last night. You have to click on this link. I mean it. Just do it. Now.
Forever Lazy

Do you think Stacy and Clinton know that this fashion abomination is being advertised in the middle of their show?