Baby Einstein World Music

Baby Einstein has a new DVD. I had the chance to review the new World Music DVD.

The Buck(s) Stops Where

Over the last year or so, I've been getting the distinct impression that I'm getting a little less coffee each time I go to Starbucks. It started when I was getting ready to take Sherri to the airport on one of her visits here and we got coffee the night before because we were damned if we'd get Dunkin Donuts in the morning as Starbucks didn't open that early. We had them use the flat lid and then put them straight in the fridge and heated them up in the morning. I know! So not the same as freshly steamed milk, but I'm telling you, we are hopelessly devoted.

Imagine my surprise when I took my lid off before re-heating the next morning and saw that there was over three inches g.o.n.e. gone. Did I order a bone-dry cappuccino by mistake?! Nope, I just got robbed.

Every so often after that I'd pluck my coffee from the counter before politely returning the cardboard sleeve and plopping the cup into one of my own creations (plug, plug, I know), and the cup was suspiciously light. I just get a non-fat latte, so I want every stitch of milk I'm supposed to get!

By coincidence I overheard someone asking them to use minimal foam, so I started doing the same. But should I have to? Is there really supposed to be that much foam in a latte? Any baristas reading my blog?

My usual drink now is a non-fat latte. Plain and Simple. But occasionally I order a flavored latte and have to channel Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally or it's a syrupy mess with a full head of whipped cream. In a time when I'm trying to simplify my life should I really be paying $5 to say Triple Venti Nonfat No Whip Two Pump Pumpkin Spice Latte? Now I have to add Light Foam?!

If I were making a pro/con list the cons may win but alas, I know I'll be standing in line again before the week is out.

I feel like Jake Gyllenhaal and Starbucks is the late, great, Heath Ledger; I wish I knew how to quit you!

Three of a Kind; Workin' on a Full House*

The other night while J and I were polishing off a tres expensive Trader Joe's bottle of pinot noir, I asked him when he thought we should have our next baby. Because under the influence of alcohol is the best time to discuss family planning, right?

I know that we won't have another Massachusetts baby, but how long after we move? I am a planner. So, J agrees that it should be just after we move, it would be wisest to get pregnant just as he's deployable, right? You can see why this discussion during intoxication is so wise.

J says that he'd like to be done having kids when he's 37, and I said that I'll be happy to be done by 35.

Wait.

I may have gotten a BA in order to avoid taking any math classes in college, but I think that even Math 087 would find this story problem elementary:

Girl A is 29. Boy B is 33. If Girl A wishes to procreate until the age of 35 but Boy B would like to be done at 37, how many children can they have and still maintain over two years of space in between? Note: They currently have an infant, leaving 2 years before the next child may safely arrive.

That's right, only one...but I want two more. J's reason for only one more? "Because it's good to have a tie-breaker." Uh, last I checked parenting was not a democracy, so unless the third you're bringing in is another wife, it won't matter. But, I kept that to myself.

I felt a little twinge in my womb. She has a lot of good years left in her. Only One More?! she cried out. But I just sat there sipping my wine. I've found that the uterus usually wins ovum the sperm. Sorry, Freudian slip, I mean over the sperm. I'd be willing to bet my left ovary we'll have those four kids.

*Thank you rural upbringing for giving me Garth Brooks songs, the lyrics from which I could later gather clever titles.

**Upon reading this out loud to my husband, who almost never gives more than a chuckle, he said "Why don't you just have 8, Octomom?" Hillarious.

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Get your free trial of Norton Online Family, by clicking the link in my post over on Knitty Reviews

Squeaking By

This morning, I woke up to a familiar sound. No, it wasn't the glugging of the coffee-maker or even of sleeping children. It was to the high-pitched squeal of the shower as J got ready to leave for lecture. Seriously, you turn it a fraction to the left or right and the squeal will stop...then you can put it right back to your perfect water temp.

I flounced into the bathroom and unceremoniously tore back the shower curtain sans contacts or glasses and blearily reached for the faucet amidst J's protests. "No. Really. Let me get that for you!" The squealing stopped instantly, but it was too late...Good morning, boys!

J apologized sheepishly as he came out to put on his socks and shoes and found me ensconsed in children, and I put on my best early morning smile "Oh no, darling. Please. I love being able to see you off in the morning, so I'm so glad you didn't just let me and the kids sleep through your departure! Mwah!"

Yep, I'm still just as snarky when I'm tired as I was when I was 16.

PHOTO Credits: Found on Trisha Novotny's blog.