Thanks a Lot, Pregnancy Expert.

My weekly pregnancy update email contained exercise safety tips today. Amongst a list of obvious others, the following movements were banned: "deep-knee bends, jumping, bouncing, or herky-jerky dancing."

I have watched every single season of So You Think You Can Dance, and have never ever seen anyone choreograph a herky-jerky. I took dance classes for years, but never studied the herky-jerky style. What in the world is herky-jerky dancing?

herky–jerky (hûrkē-jûrkē) adj: Spasmodic, not smooth or graceful: marked by sudden movements or changes.

First of all, I may have moments when I lumber like a newborn giraffe while simply walking from point A to point B, but I'm quite graceful and not at all spasmodic when dancing, thankyouverymuch.

Second of all, are you serious, What to Expect When You're Expecting email update? Do you know what we breeder types tend to do after we've had a baby? Keep breeding! That means that there's a high degree of likelihood that when we're pregnant, it's not our first time at the rodeo. We probably have small children at home. Small bendy, jumpy, bouncy, dancing children at home.

Now, the last thing I want to do is to put my baby in any kind of risk. I am a strict pregnancy ban rule follower: no soft cheeses, no seafood, no alcohol or caffeine. No roller coasters, no hot tubs, no contact sports. No sky diving, no marathon running, no bungee jumping.

But no regular jumping, either? Really? And how do you expect anyone with an almost-three-year-old to get through the day without bending down to pick something up at least fifteen times? Should I, for the next couple of months, ignore the "bend with your knees, not with your back" rule, so as not to break the "no deep-knee bends" pregnancy rule?

This particular "helpful" pregnancy email was absolutely not helpful. Send me advice that bans cleaning bathrooms, or orders me to adopt an all frozen yogurt diet, or something that I can get behind. Because this little nugget of wisdom officially puts me in my first awkward position as the parent of two children, and forces me to choose who is more important: the adorable little firstborn who wants me to pretend to be Tigger and bounce around the house with him, or the unborn child who I haven't met yet, but already love. Old blood vs. New blood. Risk vs. Reward. Ethan vs. (insert yet-to-be-named baby's name here).

Not cool, Heidi Murkoff. Not cool.

Weekend Getaway to Monterey

What do you do on a holiday weekend when your friends are getting married in a beautiful seaside town? You make a mini-vacation out of it! Ethan sensed the pomp and circumstance of the situation when Ryan loaded two suitcases, a daypack, a diaper bag, and the dog's bed into the car. With wide-eyed excitement, Ethan spent the better portion of the drive shouting "road trip adventure!" and dancing like a maniac to the overplayed pop songs that blared over the car's stereo.

Ryan and I always joke that since he's the photographer in the family, there will be little to no photographic evidence of his existence when Ethan grows up. Flipping through our family albums, I'll look like a super fun mom, and Ryan will look like... well, nothing. Nonexistent. Learning how to use (and not be intimidated by) his fancy professional cameras has been on my to do list for some time now so that we can remedy that situation. In the meantime, there's always my little digital point and shoot to fill in the gaps!

I present to you now actual photographic evidence (*gasp*) that Ryan is indeed an incredibly involved and amazing father. Sure, the pictures aren't as nice as the ones Ryan takes, but I think that content far outweighs quality sometimes - especially when my boys are having so much fun together!







The fun continued at Megan and David's wedding. Ethan had a wonderful time exploring the venue (read: insisting that one of his parents accompany him on expeditions to find ramps to run up and down, flower petals to throw into fountains filled with giant Koi, and gardens with mazes of pathways seemingly made for an energetic almost-three-year-old). We did manage to get him to sit in his seat long enough to snap a few photos:



(Why we never, ever think to hand the camera over to someone else to get a family shot of the three of us is beyond me. I suppose it has a lot to do with the fact that we usually have one of the aforementioned fancy intimidating professional cameras with us. Sigh.)

It was much easier to keep him entertained once the music started. That kid is all about the beat. The louder, the better. We took him for a few spins around the dance floor, and the trusty iPhone video camera was on hand to capture his pas de deux with Daddy.


Ethan was so cute in his little argyle sweater vest, and the poor guy was subjected to random kiss attacks from Mommy and Daddy throughout the evening. He thought he looked pretty snazzy as well, and insisted on wearing his "diamond shirt" again the following morning.



Side note: I hope it wasn't lost on you that his goldfish crackers coordinated with his napkin. That was no accident, my friends. That was 100% Ethan, who insisted on trading napkins so that he could match his snack with his linens.

He is so his Mommy's son.