Happiness is...
...a plate of macaroni and cheese and mashed potatoes with gravy. No meat. No veggies. Just carbolicious goodness. I am thinking that I could eat this meal every day for the next 7 or so months. My baby is going to be born craving macaroni and cheese and mashed potatoes from the womb.
By the way, for those who do not know yet, I am pregnant. It feels good to finally let that cat out of the bag without fear of having to grab it by its tail and yank it back into said bag.
We went and got our first ultrasound for this pregnancy last week, and much to our relief, the little Taylor Tot has a nice strong heartbeat...my world has become a happier, brighter, amazing place to be.
I am vowing not to bitch and complain about any remote aspect of my pregnancy. I might make observations and note sentiments as they come, but I keep reminding myself of how fortunate I am to be carrying this baby.
I'm also not going to let myself turn this blog into the "baby blog," although I'm sure there will be plenty to note and discuss as I venture further down this pregnant road.
One thing, for example, is how much more Taylor and I are starting to notice and take notes on the misbehavior of small children in restaurants. I am amazed at how many parents refuse to control their children in public places.
My friend Brian at work believes this to be because too many parents these days go out of their way to make their kids feel as if they are the world's most "special snowflakes" who are incapable of doing anything wrong- therefore, too many screaming, undisciplined brats are running ramped in a restaurant near you.
I pointed this out to a coworker today at an office lunch at Old Chicago pizza. She laughed and said that when her daughter was young, she and a bunch of other mothers would take their tribe of small children out to eat and let them roam free to have "fun" and move around...and that it was funny how it seemed like so many of them wound up going out of business soon after.
???? Funny? I think not. She was THAT lady.
I see a lot of parents who talk the talk, but don't walk the walk...and even when they talk the talk they don't really MEAN it. It's more of a, "Billy, NO. Don't do that. Anyways, so like I was saying...blah blah blah" while Billy and his sister are running laps around the table, crawling under chairs and bringing surrounding patrons that much closer to slapping a stranger's child.
We heard a kid in the restaurant scream, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" to his mother, followed by the kind of wailing and howling that could quite possibly drive one to insanity if exposed for too long.
My mom used to let me get away that kind of temper tantrum throwing when I was little. My aunts still tease me about it. I don't remember that though...all I remember is the gut feeling of terror of pissing my dad off in the same scenario and being the most behaved small person to ever grace a booster seat.
That's what kids need. Note to self: Dad's strategy worked the best.
