Olympics and armchairs

You know why Americans love TV so much? Judging. I've only got a few shows I try to watch regularly, and even then, Life is more important (and they'll be showing re-runs of them all in a month or two anyway), and the thing I notice is that I sit and make judgements about each character's choices, their outfits/hair/makeup, their skill, etc. I have been watching the olympics just like the rest of you, but I have decided that the Judges' commentary really screws the whole thing up. It's the perfect example of what happens at home every day when a person sits in front of the Tube to watch something. Instead of appreciating the sheer skill and mad-genius of deciding to jump off a perfectly good ramp with a couple of boards strapped to your feet, or to dedicate your entire young life to repeatedly chaining yourself to a couple of small strips of metal and see how fast you can plunge down a half-pipe of ice, we -like the judges who comment- are sitting in a safe, warm place making comments like "I just wish she would tuck in the laces on her skates. It's really about the WHOLE look. The laces flying around just takes away from that quadruple-mega-flying-flip she just did..."

I MEAN COME ON PEOPLE! I have never gotten to the point where I can let go of the wall on a pair of ice skates, let alone balance my entire body weight on a 1/4 inch strip of metal and then Jump and flip through the air, land on only a 1/4 inch strip of metal and never fall down!

Who am I to catch myself making comments like "she didn't get down far enough into that spin. There was no energy in that routine at all!" Oh, right. That's what the term "armchair quarterback" was made for. Me.

Now I see that with my advanced degree in Design I have much more of a right to criticize when I watch Project Runway (and good lord do some of those outfits and designers need some criticizing!), and that must be why Hubby HATES watching this show. Maybe he really just hates watching it with me. So I promise to stick to what I know and shut my mouth with the sports critiques.

But I'm sure Hubby will still stalk out of the room when Project Runway comes on.

Guess What?!

• The other week I was reading a funny entry in a mommy-blog I like, and I laughed so hard I started crying. THEN, the crying threatened to turned into a melancholy full-scale sobbing fest. Wha?
• Three nights ago, hubby was already snoring and I was trying to sleep, but I suddenly got so hungry I had to get up and eat two brownies and drink a glass of water just to settle down.
• While my boys were watching a video, I stretched out on our leather couch to get forty winks. A full hour later, I woke up with a thin layer of drool that had effectively adhered the entire left side of my face to the arm of the sofa.

So yes, if you haven't guessed it by now, I am pregnant. That would be with baby number three! Can you believe it? I'm insane!

I am basically knocking on the door of three months along now. So it's pretty real. I figured it was time to break the news. After all, it has been rather hard to find something to blog about when I have been on 24-hour nausea-watch for a while here. Very hard to come up with amusing anecdotes about one's life that get around how transcribed one's life has become since eating applesauce and drinking coke and sleeping in between are one's main activities of late. ("So, after my nap I got on the elevator the other day and I could tell someone who just ate kimchi had been on there moments before -- had to breathe through my coat sleeve the whole 17 floors down to keep from pukin' up my applesauce! Har har har!" Yes my sense of smell really is that sensitive.)

Just so you know, this was all planned, and we really are very happy about it. We're ecstatic, in fact. It's just that the beginning is not the fun part, as most women would agree. Not to mention the fact that I get to spend this most nauseous and smell-sensitive portion of my Journey to Motherhood (Again) in Korea, land of kimchi, poorly constructed sewers, roadside ppondaegi/silkworm larvae vendors (also helpfully available in cans at the supermarket), and food leftovers required by law to be left out for the garbage collectors in thin leaky transparent plastic bags along the street! I can only thank God it's not summer!

So that's what's happening dans chez moi -- very literally, as moi has now become a chez. I confess that the morning/all-day sickness has now abated almost completely, but, having astutely read my bulleted presentation above, you see that that's not all the fun pregnancy has to offer. There were a few nights I had to carry arounda cup to spit my excessive saliva into, for one. And though I do not have pica symptoms, per se, I can hardly characterize my sudden constant need to have a pocketful of Starburst wherever I go as a positive contribution to my nutritional state. (Also, I don't like the orange ones now.) Oh well. I suppose once I get over the desire to sleep every waking moment that I'm not eating or driving one of my sons somewhere, this will actually make for quite a bit of fun blogging material. I'm due in early September, so exalt, ye weary readers! There are many more months of pregnant fun to come! Hey, no, don't all turn off your computers at once...