We soooo know who the father is

 

When I was pregnant with our Fuss, I had a celebrity crush. I hesitate to type his name, for fear we may eventually meet and he'll be able to point and say, "Oh, you're the crazy pregnant online stalker lady" or something like that. This way, if we ever meet and for some weird twist of parallel universe fate we're both single and he falls madly in love with me, he'll never need know, right? But I was very stalkery. My hubby and I had discovered his show, then in its 5^th season, during the writer's strike, and he bought me the box set of seasons 1-4. We pretty much watched them back-to-back. Several times. And then I started to Netflix some of his older work, and asked for more DVDs for Christmas, which my hubby bought for me despite having to order them from BBCA. I blame him (my hubster) for facilitating this obsession, seeing as how he watched the shows with me, bought me more fodder, and jokingly coined the term 'Papa Greg' for the character's relationship to our soon-to-be first born.

So one day when visiting his Dad and his Dad's wife, someone brought up my little infatuation. [Read this as not me….I was terribly embarrassed by it at the time.] No big deal, though I got a couple strange looks. Then, after dinner when I was alone with the FIL, I mentioned how excited we both were about our expected son, and how he was going to be Hubby Jr. His Dad looked at me a second and said, "Well, we always know who the mother is…" With ellipses. Because there was a trailing off, an implication. I think I looked stunned for a moment before giving a little chuckle, hoping he was making a joke. But it hurt, and it's stuck with me.

Fast forward to Fuss' birth. He has blue eyes, as all (or most) newborns do, but very bright, clear-sky blue. Just like that actor…. They still are the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen, and we get comments on them all the time. I have light eyes too, but not in his league. Daddy's eyes, of course, are brown.

A bit more background, if you'll indulge me. I'm a girl (duh!). In fact, I'm a pretty girly girl. I like singing and dancing, makeup and hair-dos and dressing up, reading and playing and horses and…you get it. And I'm an only child, so I never had a brother or any real experience with little boys. (Unless you count the 6 weeks one summer my parents made me volunteer at a day care center and I was placed with the 2 year olds, and had to quit because I was so embarrassed over how the little boys constantly had their hands down their pants.) So anyway, we have two boys, and I have zilch life experience with toddler boys. I knew they'd be a lot more physical than I was, but I wasn't quite prepared…

Speed up again, to today, 20 months and 1 day after the birth of our Fuss. We've been baby-proofing, toddler-proofing, re-toddler-proofing, moving things around, de-crapifying, and generally trying to make the house safe for the big boy. Today I had to pee. It is 100 degrees outside, I'm trying to keep up with liquids and not have to resort to stashing one of their diapers in my undies. I'm thinking I may have to though, because when I came back to the living room, Fuss was on the floor playing with flea and tick repellant. Yep, the kind for dogs. Luckily he hadn't opened it yet. (Funny thing, it was in a drawer about 3.5' off the ground. A drawer that sticks so hard I have to brace myself and give a hearty pull to get it open to get the repellant.) Anyway, I ran into the kitchen to grab a bag to put the rest of the hazardous material in, after first ripping the one vial from his hands (screeching from the boy), ran back into the living room and threw the stuff in the bag. I turned around and the boy was gone. Back into kitchen; don't see him. Heart beings to speed up, and then I notice the door to the deck was open. The little booger had snuck into the kitchen, out onto the deck, and was trying to climb the gas grill. Yikes. [Note to self and hubby: start locking deck door.]

I've checked with my husband about this before, and his mom. Apparently my big guy and his two brothers were a bit of a handful: climbing everything, destroying everything, trying to lock each other in dryers, hitting each other with snow-covered rocks. All sorts of emergency-room-involving activites. And aren't I the lucky one, my little boy is just like his daddy.

Oh, and I figured out how he reached the drawer – he climbed onto a dog crate. As to getting the drawer open, he's actually that much stronger, or more determined, than me.