Pregnant in Heels? Ummmm.... We Need to Discuss

So please tell me I'm not the only one who saw last night's premier episode of the new Bravo show "Pregnant in Heels"?? We need to discuss the ridiculousness that is that show. First of all - who has ever heard of a "Pregnancy Concierge"?? I'm thinking Rosie Pope (the woman featured on the show) may have coined that term, and the definition is: Slave for hire, Will do any and all things at the whim of hormonal pregos with way too much money. I mean, isn't that what husbands are for when we are prego? Hehe... just kidding. Kind of.

But seriously... the way she caters to her "million dollar mamas" is out of control. Or, I should say, the "million dollar mamas" are out of control. Let's discuss the first couple featured last night: The mama is 36 weeks prego, and her and her "husband" are in complete denial about the impending arrival of their child. And BTW -  I put "husband" in quotations because although they flashed a wedding photo from when the couple was allegedly married, well... let's just say his ideal partner might not be female...definitely questionable in the gender preference department (and if you saw the show, you know EXACTLY what I am talking about!). Anywho... so this nutcase of a couple don't want to set up a nursery because it will be too colorful, too loud (they hate the sound of children's toys) and ultimately cramp their "sleek, sophisticated" style. When asked if she had bonded with her baby yet (reminder: she is 36 weeks prego and about to pop), her response is a flat out, "No." She said she couldn't waste her energy thinking about and bonding with a child that isn't even here yet (to which her "husband" nodded dramatically). So the Pregnancy Concierge brings over a psychologist to basically tell them they are certifiably crazy - with whom they finally agree. The mama seemed to relish in the idea that she is nuts, probably because she thinks that makes her unique.  BTW: You totally know those kind of people... the ones who dramatize every moment of potential anxiety by pouting, rubbing their faces and making everyone else around them feel like they too should be stressed to the max about anything and everything - from boarding an airplane to making a sandwich -- and love the attention it brings their way. And if you don't know a person like that, there is a good possibility it may be you : ) So at the end of the show, just when I'm about to call Child Protective Services on these crazy folks and am hoarse from screaming at the TV, they show the mama and "husband" with their newborn child, who they are loving on like crazy and seem to have bonded with. They even show the toys the couple purchased as proof the new parents finally acknowledged that the baby was a permanent addition and might new a few items of comfort around. And even though all seemed well in their world, I have to wonder if they see how selfish and nutso they were just 4 weeks earlier? My guess is no... and that they've already enrolled the baby in twice-weekly piano and violin lessons , with math and french tutoring every other day. Once a crazy, always a crazy.

And don't even get me started about the second couple that was featured, who described themselves as a "power couple". VOMIT!  The husband reaffirmed this by saying how just the other night he was at a party talking with "Mayor Bloomberg and Tom Brokaw". And I bet if you ask Bloomberg or Brokaw about this alleged conversation they certainly wouldn't respond with, "Oh! That wonderful man that is half of a Power Couple! So intriguing!" No... they would say, "Who? Oh, that guy? You mean he wasn't the waiter or bartender?" So as the story goes, this couple decided they needed to commission a focus group to help name their first born son - you know, so he would have a distinguished name and align with the "family brand." Except when the focus group didn't agree with their names of choice, then the power couple decided this group of business leaders just didn't understand what it meant to be affluent and "powerful". I don't even remember the name they decided on... probably something like George Willard Abraham Theodore Sylvester the IV. Becasue we all know it is a person's name that truly determines their life path... : )

So, in a nutshell, the show is a whole truckfull of crazy. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't going to watch next week. Afterall, it's good to see how normal we all seem when compared to complete foolishness.

Baby, You Are a Pain in My Va-jay-jay

I've been out of commission for a few days. And by out of commission, I mean I couldn't walk without wincing. The problem? My va-jay-jay. Specifically, the stabbing pains shooting down from my uterus/cervix. Earlier last week, just as I was dipping my toe into the third trimester, I got the 20-lb watermelon sensation just like last time. You know, the feeling that if you get up too quickly, walk to fast, or sneeze the wrong way, a 20-lb watermelon may fall out of you. And that is uncomfortable enough. But after an afternoon excursion to Ikea, followed the next day by a 5 mile walk with the fam, my cervix had given up trying to hold up the watermelon. And now, instead of discomfort, I literally have shooting pains like lightening bolts. Enough to bring tears to my eyes. I figured I just needed some rest and spent all of Sunday in bed, with my feet up. And - Thank You Jesus - it seemed to have worked. The Watermelon is back, with only sporadic bolts of lightening.

During my self-imposed day of rest, I decided to consult my medical team (aka Google) re: my condition to see if any other women were experience the same thing. And lo-and-behold, they were. Many of them. Enough so that 4 pages of results came up from the search query "shooting pains int he va-jay-jay". Hallelujah for not feeling like I'm the only crazy prego out there! Of course I'm going to ask my doctor about it next time I go - which is quickly approaching the 2-times-per-week phase. But in the meantime, I feel comforted by the responses I found on Google, which indicated the shooting pains were a result of the ligaments loosening up as the body prepares for delivery. Nice.

Taxi Mouse, Minivan Mouse

My husband and I grew up in similar areas, both suburbs of major metropolitan areas. I grew up outside NYC, and Daniel grew up outside Atlanta. Given their proximity to cities, both areas were pretty rural. My town even more so than Daniel's. Farms. Cows. No street lights. However, we have two very different perspectives on city living - I LOVE it and Daniel HATES it. I love the energy. The commotion. The chaos. I particularly appreciate public transportation. Daniel hates all of the above - especially public transportation. Why? I really have no idea. So when we went to San Diego, I conveniently forgot to tell him that we weren't going to rent a car : ) I wasn't trying to be sneaky, but I knew there would be no reason to rent a car for $60 per day PLUS pay $40 per day to park it at the hotel. TOTALLY not worth it. Plus, I like the convenience of hopping into a cab, and not thinking about it again until you arrive - no maps, no GPS, no arguing over the best way to go... Daniel wasn't super excited when he found out, but I assured him we would avoid all trains, buses and subways, at which point I could see him breathe a sigh of relief.

Side note: Here is an image of Daniel from one of our pre-baby trips back in 2007-ish. Note the annoyed look, beads of sweat forming over his brow, and general hatred of all things public transportation. : )

We were in Chicago for a friend's wedding and again, I had refused to rent a car since public transportation was so readily available. At the time this pic was taken, we were waiting for the train to head back to our hotel. Just an hour before, Daniel had suggested we "flag down a bus" and "have it take us to our hotel." I started to explain the concept of bus routes to him with no avail... he was not a happy camper to say the least Am I wrong for getting such enjoyment out of this lovely image? : )


Anyway... back to San Diego. So luckily our hotel had a fleet of Taxis waiting to take us anywhere we needed to go, and the fares were super cheap. As we rode to our various destinations, I would break out my favorite Nick Jr. song (video above) - Taxi - and Paige and I would clap and sing and laugh. Even the cab driver would join in on the fun. Daniel - not so much. I could see him looking out the window, praying the ride would soon be over so he could get on solid ground and back in control of his surroundings. Mr. Too-Cool-For-School was again, sweating bullets. Heheheheh....

And everyone who has ever ridden in a taxi knows that the drivers are some of the most interesting people you will ever meet. Aspiring politicians, actors, finance gurus - they are a wealth of information. Once in NY I had a Taxi driver tell me about how he knew Bernie Madoff was corrupt before everyone else -- and because of that knowledge, he decided not to invest his money with him. I didn't realize Steven Spielberg and this particular taxi driver ran in the same financial circles ; )  I love chatting with the drivers and hearing the pearls of wisdom drop off their tongues. One in San Diego began telling us about a recent article he read re: race relations in Atlanta, then quickly jumped to discussing how the lunar landing was all a farse. Daniel thinks I'm crazy and always gives me a look like, "Please don't egg him on..." Well, on our final trip to the airport, we had the best taxi driver EVER! He was an aspiring comedian, and his forte was knock-knock jokes. BRILLIANT! The first few minutes were funny... even stoneface Daniel laughed. But you can only hear so many knock knock jokes before they get a little old. My four year old niece recently discovered the joy of telling knock knock jokes, but hers are actually funny! Mr. Taxi Driver's jokes...well... after the 50th or so we were ready to leap out the window. But it was still a once in a lifetime experience that you can only get on public transportation. Now if only I could have gotten Daniel on the train or bus.... there is always next time!