Monday, July 28, 2008

Look at them flappers...

Boy. Those are some long, flappy feet at the top of the screen. I debated whether to post something so intimate, and frankly, disturbing but it truly does demonstrate the theme of Jumping in the Big Woo. I'm not saying those flappers are mine; they could really be from anyone who is oddly tall and elongated in a variety of bodily regions.

Rest assured dear readers, soon the top photo space will be replaced by a cute little baby whose eyes will mesmerize you.

In the meantime, viva la feet!


Sunday, July 27, 2008

"That's the one that got me..." (B. Murray, Ghostbusters)

Bastard. This photo had to have been doctored. Collapsed position, my hiney. No es possible!

Monstor Stroller Show

The Stroller. Baby's first vehicle. His ride. His cred at the playground. A look into his inner soul. Where he'll slap on his first Obama sticker (or whoever else Baby M wants to support, but it should be Obama unless he wants his mother to cry). It's an important purchase. And in the end, it may kill me.

I promised myself that I wouldn't be one of those blogger-moms who posts a picture of every single baby purchase, and describes every detail of the baby room development. Not that there is anything wrong with that; I've fully enjoyed sharing the joy of preparation with other families. I just thought I'd slightly shift the blogging paradigm, and focus on other soon-to-be parent anxiety, the absurdness of baby preparation, and hopefully soon, poop.

But the attempt to purchase a stroller is bringing me down. My lovely mother has graciously offered to get the stroller for us. And we diligently tried to get one when her and her lovely friend Sheryl were in town. We viewed dozens. There is no "stroller row" in Chicago like you have for cars, where grease ball sales people offer to give you a test ride. And please, don't recommend Babies-R-Us (see breakdown entry below of July 12). You're basically on your own at a variety of overpriced shops, and at the whimsy of baby store sales people who may or may not have attended the stroller co's representative's demonstration of how to launch a missle rocket from the cup holder.

We found a reasonably priced floor 2007 Valco model that needed to get off the floor to make room for the incoming 2008 models. It looked nice. No offensive colors. Relatively light. No visible stains. Nothing eye pokingly sharp sticking out of it. But then I asked; does it collapse? Sure, the nice overpriced boutique lady said. Let me show you. Now this is where the stroller got mean. Like it had one too many demonstrations performed on it, and it just wanted a nap. The nice overpriced boutique lady struggled for a moment, having to recite some instructions under her breath, and after a bang or two, it obediantly collapsed. "Now you try," she says. So I approached it. I'm a big girl, on my way to Madonna like arms. How hard could this be?

Well, basically for the next 20 minutes, I beat that muther into the ground. I jumped on it, swore at it, kicked it in its private parts, and basically caused a mini scene. Of course everyone else, my mother, Sheryl, an elderly woman who wandered by, and a blind toddler were able to effectively maneuver this bastard into the collapsed position. I wanted it too! It was nice. But I swear to god, when I walked away from it, I heard laughing and I do believe, it flipped me off.

The search continues.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Telling someone...

Pulled this over from another blog.....

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Here He Is!!!!!

In all his pink majesty, may I introduce to all of you Mishamo French Pehlke! For those of you who know me, how perfect is it that my son is in drag?

We made it through court last Friday. No hitches so far. Ethiopia has given us the blessing to be the blessed parents of this beautiful boy!

We feel so lucky and are so excited!!!

Now we endure the next stage of wait: the birth certificate and travel date.

We were given anywhere from 8 to 12 more weeks - putting us somewhere in late August in the best case scenario and late September on the other end. Things are a bit backed up. Ethiopia is experiencing a severe drought and power outages are frequent. As a result, birth certificates are being sput out at a rather slow rate.

I owe many of you email responses, and they are a comin, but thanks to everyone overall for all your kind words and support!

Please feel free to leave us comments and any parenting advice here on the blog. As first time parents, at least we've kept the dogs alive, so we're feeling pretty good about the upgrade!

Love to everyone!

Shelby and David

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

The Cougar-Mellencamp

I was stared at by John (Cougar - it's in parantheses now) Mellencamp. Not once, but twice. In Chicago. In a restaurant that shall go un-named for now, but has the initials, RL.

Cougar's head was extremely large.

I don't think he was checking me out, given the hottie-model-wife that he's employed to stay next to him at all times. But he did give me one of those "didn't-we-share-some-sort-of-something-or-other-in-1988-during-a-no-longer-functioning-music-festival-of-mulletted-soon-to-be-has-beens?" kind of stare.

And then I had to think: did I actually have a tryst with the (Cougar) in 1988 during a has-been west coast musical festival?

It got me thinking.


Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Strange things overheard...

...from my own mouth:

"There's nothing more irritating that two yuppies with a cattle dog."

Amen, sister.


Saturday, July 12, 2008


Babies need alot of stuff. Or so I've observed. I knew this before, but didn't really "know" this until venturing into my initiation into the parenthood biz: THE REGISTRY. I held a gun today. A Target registry gun, and aimed it at hundreds of individual socks, blankets, onsies, stuffed creatures (normally from the rainforest don't ask me why), things that babies lay on, things that light up for babies to indicate they have an above average IQ, and things that turn them into adults who will require alot of stuff. Luckily, I can stay away from the products that involve my nipples.

Though well organized, and somewhat cheery, the Target baby section was a picked over wasteland, post clearance sale, frankly: a little sad. However, the sadness factor did not come close to the experience I had at Babies-R-Us.

I had a brief meltdown at the Babies-R-Us. First, I did not realize the extent of the equipment that is "required" for a small creature until I saw it strewn about in a warehouse without organization or purpose. Second, Babies-R-Us-es (at least the one on Western Ave in Chicago) aren't kept up like they used to be. Lots of exposed flourescent lighting giving off dog-only perceptible like buzzings, toddlers without parents smoking Lucky Strikes wandering the aisles, the smell of popcorn covered in poop - its like a baby Skid Row.

As I wandered through this infant armageddon, I went from liberal, politically correct mother who curses all consumeristic attempts to corrupt my child, to worried mother who would feel like a schmuck if this tiny little morsel did not have a Rainforest Jumperoo, bouncy thing that you put on top of a bouncy thing, and uber soft blankets made in sweatshops from the country my baby comes from.

I made it out of there okay. The buzz from the flourscent lights drowned out my screaming. I got a few items that appeared somewhat harmless: about 10 Cubs onsies, and a cup that one sips from.

And, I vowed never to go back. It's not that I hate Babies-R-Us. I think Babies-R-Us hates me. What happened to that cute giraffe that your imaginary child could ride around the store on? I saw him. Lying on the ground. Bleeding from a toddler stomping.

Not pretty.