Pink stuff and rattles and blankets, oh my!

Do you ever get to feeling like you are an island? Like in the movie About a Boy, sometimes you get so wrapped up in what is going on in YOUR life, you loose sight of others, and then, assume they've lost site of you?

Pregnancy has been like that for me. More content to stay at home because I could sit on the couch sans pants (EVERYTHING is tight, don't judge me) than be social, I've missed countless nights out with girlfriends, holiday parties, happy hours, dog park trips, etc. Besides spending my days at work, sometimes I feel like the only way I've been connected these past months has been thanks to the all-mighty Internet and Facebook, Twitter, email and this blog.

I kept telling Ben how I probably wouldn't have any baby showers. That as the first of my friends to really have a child, it might not be something that they think about. That was my excuse. Really, I just felt that I'd been too far removed from the day-to-day to be bothered with.

I was wrong. Boy, was I wrong, and the amount of love and support that I've received from friends, family and family friends has been a little overwhelming and a lot humbling.

Last weekend I went to Tulsa for a shower that my mom's friends were hosting for me. It was beautiful, and nearly moved me to tears at the amount of obvious affection and friendship these women had for my mom, and by extension, for me! Not to be outdone, my extended family came over that night for a dinner, and surprised me with ANOTHER shower. I think that if Baby E were born today, she would be beyond set, with beautiful blankets, clothes and all the necessities.

How lucky are Ben and I that we have this kind of support system in our lives? They say that babies are incredibly expensive, and we've been given such an amazing gift by all these people, a head start. And we aren't done yet!

My friends are hosting a Dallas shower for me in a few weeks, and my colleagues have asked if they could host a work shower as well. And THEN, to top all of the celebrations off, another group of friends are hosting a "sip and see" for Ben and I after Baby E is born so that everyone can get together and OOOO and AWWW over her cuteness.

Just the thought of all of this makes me want to stand up and yell "You like me, you really like me!" And not because I'm a big loser (which obviously, I am) but because I'm overwhelmed with the good will and wishes that this baby is bringing to our little family.

A few pictures from this weekend. More to come once I can get all the shower photos off my parent's camera!

The hostesses with the mostest -- My mom (far left in red) with the hostesses of the lovely Tulsa shower.

Luckily, I have no shame so I shared my story of eating cookies with icing out of the trashcan. This lead to the most fabulous cookies with icing for dessert at my shower.My adorable cousin CJ helped me open gifts at my family shower. He was better at it than I was, but that was because I couldn't bend over my stomach to reach anything sitting on the ground.
My mom and I look like twins. Same color hair, same short cut, same color shirt... only I look part human, part tanker. Wide Load! Carrying a baby!

Music to her ears

I have a slightly obsessive personality. It rears its head in odd ways, and one of those are my propensity to listen, on repeat, to a certain song until I (or someone else) wants to attack the music player with a hammer.

The song changes regularly. Beginning about a month ago was Jason Mraz's song, "I'm Yours." Every time it would come on (the radio, my iPod, etc.) I would turn it up and sing with gusto. Then, if luck would have it and I was near my computer or the iPod, I would listen and sing a few more times before I felt I could go on with my day.

This week I've found a new obsession, and am now on the fifth play of it this morning (and not getting tired of it in the slightest), The Fray's "You Found Me." It was a song I liked immediately when I heard it, and after hearing an interview with the band about the song and the meanings behind it, I was hooked.

The funny part of all of this is that I may be passing my musical obsessions on to Baby E. Once babies can hear in utero, they begin to identify things that they will recognize after they are born. That is why they will recognize and soothe at the sound of their mom or dad's voice. Likewise, books that are read to the baby in utero often have a calming affect when read after birth, and OF COURSE, familiar music from before birth is also comforting.

So, my obsessive song playing is really just going to make these songs very familiar to Baby E. Hell, with the amount of times she's heard them already, she may even come out with the words memorized.

If YOU have favorite songs Baby E and I need to discover, I'd love to hear about them. I need a bigger playlist for the two of us to enjoy.

Check out the video for "You Found Me" -- hope you like the song as much as Baby E and I do!

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My Baby the Drunk Ox

Today marks the first official day of the Chinese New Year and the Year of the Ox, which means I'm having a baby Ox. I looked it up to see what that meant, and apparently, Baby E is going to be bright, patient and inspiring to others. She can be happy by herself and will make an outstanding parent.

This is all excellent news, but somehow I have to guess there is an "Ox" dark side that they aren't quite sharing. Similar to my conversation with a co-worker last week where I learned my baby is also destined to be a drunk.

Every Friday, we have breakfast brought in so everyone in the office, from intern to senior vice president, can hang out for a few minutes and relax. Well, last Friday, conversation turned to my pregnancy (likely b/c I was moaning around a mouthful of apple butter and who can ignore that kind of behavior?) and the head DUDE of one of our practices starts chatting me up about my due date. When I mention that our little bundle of joy is due on March 22, he very matter-of-factly says, "Oh, a Pisces -- did you know that, like, 80% of the world's alcoholics are Pisces?"

Well, no ass-face, I didn't know that. But thanks for the good tidings of joy and booziness.

I laughed it off with him, made a few jokes about how apparently Ben and I timed our baby perfectly so she could share the family genes and moved on.

But later I started to dwell. Because while I put practically ZERO weight on astrological hocus-pocus, there is something slightly... irksome... to be told you might as well start saving for a good recovery program instead of a good college. And besides that, SERIOUSLY?!? Just a note for all of you out there. The last thing a pregnant woman wants to hear is the serious illnesses or personality flaws that she has to worry about with her unborn child. Know some random stat about when the most psychopaths are born and want to share? BITE YOUR TONGUE. Write it down. Share it with a stranger. Hire a plane to sky-write the fact for the world to see, but under NO CIRCUMSTANCES should you tell the mother-to-be.

Anyways, I'm over it (or as over it as a pregnant woman can be until pregnancy brain makes me forget this ever happened and then I'll REALLY be over it). Besides, I looked it up and the guy was wrong... if Baby E IS in fact born on her due date of March 22 she will be an Aries and the worst thing I could find there was that she would be selfish, and I'm all like "duh".

But, if she is born early, and happens to be a Pisces, I will love my little drunk Ox. I just might buy a padlock for our liqueur cabinet. Mommy isn't ready to share just yet.

*Cute Ox onesie by Fauborg St Denis, and a brilliant find by Cool Mom Picks. The onesies feature a funky red Ox and one of them says "We are the kings of 2009!" in French.

Third trimester blahs

So I'm feeling it... the third trimester blahs. It isn't the bone crunching sleepiness or the "if I smell one more person wearing perfume I'm going to lose lunch" feeling of the first trimester, but rather a slowing down of all bodily functions. My brain is becoming sluggish, I've started waddling rather than walking, and getting up and down out of anything (a chair, the car, the bathtub) has become a miracle if I can do it on the first try. I just feel big and... well... blah.

I feel so blah in fact, I'm not sure what to share with everyone. I'm fairly certain my stories of waking up in the middle of the night because Baby E is performing Riverdance on my bladder is the sort of thing you tune in to read about. Or the fact that 9 p.m. is getting to be my GOAL for how late I stay awake on a week night, or that I have to stare at documents I'm reviewing for a good 30 minutes before being able to take action and I'm fairly certain I'm forgetting something for at least one of my four clients, but I'm just NOT ABLE TO REMEMBER WHAT THAT IS.

I think (from what I've heard/read) that this is fairly typical, but then I have this weird feeling that I shouldn't be feeling this way just yet -- that if I'm this tired and fuzzy headed now, in about a month I should probably have my drivers license taken away and when the baby is due a month after THAT I may just be barely functioning.

Last night I had a dream about Baby E. I dreamt that the birth was really easy and I had TWO baby BOYS (so much wrong with this dream already -- right?) But the thing was, when I had the babies, the nurse told me that they had gotten it all wrong, that they were actually a month overdue because I was much further in my pregnancy than they thought. My interpretation of this dream is that I'm worried about another two full months of pregnancy and my subconscious is telling me to suck it up. My subconscious is great at giving pep-talks.

I also owe everyone a third trimester photo, so I'm making a promise that I'll try to get one taken and posted this week. If I don't, I'll post a cute picture of our dogs so you get distracted and don't remember I haven't posted a photo of myself. Tricky, eh?

Pillow Talk

Last night in bed, Ben and I discovered we have very different reasons (besides being excited about BabyE) to look forward to me no longer being pregnant:

Liz: Feel this, feel how much she is moving. This is the only part of pregnancy I like.

Ben: You know, I don't mind your being pregnant so much. Except for the pillows. I hate the F-ing pillows.

Liz: I take that back, I also like being able to eat anything I want. That part of pregnancy is good too.

Ben: Lizzy, THAT part of pregnancy doesn't exist. You made that part up.

Liz: Oh, yeah. Well, it works for me so can it or I may feel the need to add one more pillow to the five I'm currently using.

Ben: (something muttered, not sure what but fairly certain it was unflattering and directed towards where I could put my pillows).

Week 30 -- My newest obsession

Not a lot to report for Week 30, except that my doctor appointment was routine and very short. Which means that the baby and I are both doing well, I gained a NORMAL amount of weight (although I did insist the nurse weigh me on both office scales before I would accept that I had indeed only gained one pound a week) and I didn't have a lot of questions. Which is kind of a lie, because I have MANY questions that I just don't ask, because it is just easier for me to go with the flow. Truly, not knowing is sometimes a little bit of bliss in my life.

The real news for week 30 is that I've developed a new craving that is odd, but that personally I find delightful. And that craving is for apple butter.

I've never truly appreciated apple butter until this week. It is quite possible that it is the most delicious food on the planet.

If you've never tried it, I strongly suggest you go out and buy some. You will thank me later.

The big easy (chair)

When I was four weeks and one day pregnant, we found out we were having a baby. On the day that I was four weeks and THREE days pregnant, we went baby shopping for the first time and Ben and I spent hours looking at nursery furniture and rockers. And since that day, approximately 26 weeks ago, we have been shopping for the perfect chair for the nursery. I have never in my life had a more stressful purchasing decision.

Nursery furniture? Piece of cake. Bedding? Found it like THAT. Toys, clothes, etc.? It is just all so adorable, I'll take it all. But rocker.... oh, the elusive rocker.

You see, Ben and I had a shared vision of what a rocker/glider should be. It should be big, comfortable, overstuffed and one of those chairs that you can actually sleep in. It should have a foot stool so you actually can lay out while rocking the baby, and it should be cute (obviously) so it makes the nursery cuter.

We tried chair after chair. We narrowed it down to the perfect chair (agreed upon by the both of us) and literally had our credit cards out to buy it when a warning bell went off in my head. It was an AWFULLY big chair. And our nursery is AWFULLY small. We went home to measure, and sure enough... if we bought the chair, we could give up walking around the nursery because it would consume all the extra floor space. Awesome.

So back to the drawing board. We tried more chairs. They failed us miserably. We tried wooden rockers with cushions and Ben whined. We tried recliners, and my 6'6" husband wouldn't fit in them. We probably went to the same two stores every other weekend for 10 weeks, trying the same chairs over and over, like something would have changed in that time. Nothing.

Then, a Christmas miracle (well, closer to New Year's, but I'm not sure if there are New Year's miracles, so maybe it was a holdover from Christmas) -- we FOUND THE CHAIR. It was a new model, and although we'd tried it previously, we hadn't given it much of a chance because we were so disillusioned by the whole search. But it was perfect. Ben fit in it, I loved it, it was in our price range (thanks to a generous gift from Ben's family) and it was, well, pretty adorable. Throw a few pillows on it and taa-daa, the perfect chair for our nursery.

We snapped it up, as well as a cute little side table we found the same weekend and now have a little more of our nursery put together. Check it out -- the perfect (for us) nursery chair from Best Chairs.

More pics of the nursery to come as we get it put together. This weekend our big purchase was a mattress, so get excited for that one!

Everything you wanted to know (or maybe not)

I recently received a forward from a friend, and while not unusual, it gave me the idea that it was a great way to post a few things about myself that you might not know. A virtual "getting to know me" if you will. So here you go, pure, unadulterated Liz. Enjoy!

What is your occupation right now? I work in public relations -- not as glamorous as it sounds, trust me -- see photo evidence below, me at 4 a.m. outside the Today Show to promote a Match.com campaign outside the Today Show.

What color are your socks right now? I'm still in bed, so no socks just yet. However, typically I wear my husband's socks, and don't really worry if they match or not, which drives him up the wall. I don't care if they are mis-matched, because I don't wear socks if they are going to show, but apparently HE cares if I've messed up all his pairs because he needs them for work. I suppose I could buy my own, but that seems like an awful lot of work and he has more than enough.

What are you listening to right now? Dex (the dog) licking himself, Ben (the husband) in the shower and the heat running.

What was the last thing you ate? Last night I had a stick of cheese before bed. What I really wanted was a slice of pie.

Last person you spoke to on the phone? Um... probably Ben. I hate the phone, literally loathe talking on it, so its very rare that I've talked to anyone else other than Ben or one of my parents. Oh, or if I'm at work, a client. Anyone else is pleased with a text or an email, so there you go.

How old are you today? A lady never tells. Okay damn it, I'm 28.

What is your favorite sport to watch on TV? Football. I can take or leave any other sport, but I love me some NFL

What is your favorite drink? In another life I'd say red or white wine, but its been so long since that has appealed to me, I'll say iced tea. And now I'm sad.

Have you ever dyed your hair? Sure, blond highlights as long as I can remember. Then the occasional rebellion/stupid mistake where I'd go either really dark or red. And then regret it. Right now, my hair is my (GASP) natural color, a kind of light brown/dirty dark blond.

Favorite Food? You are asking a pregnant woman about her favorite food. I could talk (type) for hours. Right now anything with sugar will do, and then things that are spicy, like Mexican food.

What is the last movie you watched? Pineapple Express. Eh-- entertaining I guess, but sometimes you just get a little tired of how STUPID these people are.

Favorite day of the year? Halloween. My birthday is the day before, and its just the time of the year that ushers in Fall, my favorite season. It always marks the start of my favorite three months of the year.

How do you vent anger? I'm verbal (and loud) so while it varies, I yell, curse, cry or any combination of the three.

What was your favorite toy as a child? Hm. Probably my She-Ra tent. I liked to play pretend a lot, so dolls, etc. didn't do much for me.

What is your favorite season? Fall, Halloween through the end of the year.

Cherries or Blueberries? Yum. Both please.

Living arrangements? Ben and I live with two dogs who rule our lives and are about to welcome a tiny bitty baby girl in March who will rule the entire household AND our lives AND our bank accounts, so things are about to change a wee bit.

When was the last time you cried? Again, pregnant here. I think I cried during the last Extreme Home Makeover.

What is on the floor of your closet? Shoes, pre-pregnancy clothes I can't wear right now, dry cleaning bags, and whatever other junk I've thrown in there. It is slightly scary.

What did you do last night? Went to dinner with Ben then laid in bed and tried to make him talk to me. After he almost fell asleep twice, we got up and watched Family Guy and HGTV for an hour and went back to bed.

What are you most afraid of? Making the wrong decision

Favorite dog breed? Mutts. But border collie, lab, aussie, golden retriever type mutts

How many states have you lived in? Two: Oklahoma and Texas

Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds. But I won't say no to pearls.

...and I shall call you Creepy

I've heard a lot of horror stories from Moms about how when they were pregnant, their bodies became a free-for-all for friends, family and strangers to rub, similar to a giant Buddha statue. I haven't really had that issue. Or, maybe I just don't have any personal space issues, because it hasn't bothered me when friends or family touch my ever-expanding "waist"and to date, all strangers have avoided putting their sticky paws anywhere near me.

However, there are other ways for strangers to make you feel a little creeped out, as I learned yesterday.

I was in the elevator, getting ready to ride up to my office on the 7th floor when a delivery man with his arms full of packages darted in just before the doors closed. As he did have a full load, I asked him what floor he was going to. He looked at me, a little appalled and shook his head and said "Oh, no. Nope, thanks."

I was confused so I stood back for a second and he just continued to look at me. So I said again, "Um, what floor are you going to," and then I tacked on "so I can push the button for you, what floor?" just in case he didn't get it again. He told me and I pushed his floor and we were off.

So as we are riding up, he is looking at the floor numbers and asks what I thought was "So what do you do?" as in, "You are riding up to the seventh floor, whats up there?" but I still thought it was an odd question, so I asked "What do I do?" and he starts cracking up and then looks me up and down and says...

"Naw, girl, I know WHAT YOU DID, I'm asking when are you due?"

Then he chuckles, shakes his head and repeats, "Yep, I know just WHAT YOU DID"

At that point I am fully creeped out because I realize that he is, right at this moment, thinking about WHAT I DID to get pregnant. Which is none of his damn business, thank you very much... get that filthy image out of your head random delivery guy!!

I feel a little violated and just stare at the elevator door. We get to his floor and he steps out and looks back, still chuckling and lets me know I've made his day. I'm busy thanking God he has too many packages in his hands to reach and and rub my belly, because he definitely seemed the type.

And so today I dub him the #1 creepy thing to happen to me in SEVEN months of pregnancy. Sure, there is still time for some other stranger to surpass him, but I'm not holding my breath. Because the way he looked me up and down like he was wearing X-ray goggles and thinking about my baby's conception was just about my limit for creepy. If someone tops that in the next two months, I can't be held responsible for stunning, macing or maiming said stranger... and I'll blame it on the hormones.

Week 29

This week, Baby E is approximately the size of a squash. She weighs about 2.5 pounds now, and is continuing to grow larger and more active every single day.

Starting around 28 weeks, doctors suggest you count the baby's kicks or movements daily to ensure everything is a-ok. Every time there is a kick or movement you count it, and theoretically you should get to ten movements in an hour. If not, they suggest you move around, eat something, anything to stimulate the baby and then try again.

Always the overachiever, MY baby is a stellar mover and shaker. I've been counting for two weeks now and have never had to count for more than three minutes before reaching ten. It is especially fun to do it before bed, because as soon as I get situated on my Snoogle, she starts her show. Its hard to describe what she does every night, but the way I imagine it is after I'm in position for sleep, she circles around and around in utero like a dog might circle the floor to find the perfect spot to cuddle up, punching, kicking and kneading as she goes until she finally settles.

But I can also feel her moving around when I wake up in the middle of the night or first thing in the morning, late morning and early afternoon. If this sleep pattern is any indication, Ben and I will be awake 24 hours a day for the first few months of Baby E's life. And I wouldn't trade it. The squirming and kicking is my favorite part of pregnancy (much more so than the swollen ankles or bags under my eyes).

My own personal cookie monster

Leading into week 29, I've hit a new low. I'm telling you about it to avoid having my husband disgrace me publicly, which he threatened to do this weekend. So here goes...

I dug cookies out of our trashcan and ATE THEM.

Now, in my defense, they are my favorite cookies in the whole, wide world and Ben FORCED me to throw them away to keep me from eating the whole box. Okay, well, he didn't actually force me into it, but more shamed me into it by throwing away HIS baked goodies with a vow to be more healthy this year. So I followed suit... and then regretted it. A lot.

You know those fantastic sugar cookies with thick, sweet icing and sprinkles that can be found in just about every grocery store bakery section? Well I found MINIs in our local grocery store last week --tiny little bites of heaven you can just pop in your mouth and let melt like butter. And then wash down with milk. And repeat. A few 5 or 10 times.

So, after my tossing of the cookies (where I could have sworn a tear escaped and ran down one cheek) I thought I was cured of my insane sugar craving. I had will power. I had enough will power to throw the equivalent of baked gold in the trash, which obviously meant I was ready to be on the straight and narrow, the healthy eating path.

I was wrong.

Left unsupervised for the day while Ben went to class, I found myself itching for a fix. I packed away Christmas ornaments and decorations. I did laundry. I watched some TV, ate a healthy lunch and cleaned the kitchen. And then the afternoon lull came. That time when I REALLY need a pick me up. Normally in my old life I'd have two cups of coffee and be off and running. But now, sweet LORD all I needed was a cookie. And as I'm finishing up in the kitchen, I go to throw away a paper towel and right there, right on the top in their perfectly sealed plastic cookie container, are my cookies. I stared at them for probably 30 seconds before digging them out of the trash and popping one in my mouth. Then I felt guilty about it, so I ate another one. I started thinking about how I should probably get rid of ALL the evidence, and I finished the box while wandering aimlessly through the house, moaning and dropping crumbs all over the place. My dogs thought they had hit the jackpot and I was fairly certain I had lost my mind.

When it was all said and done, my stomach hurt and my teeth ached from all the sugar. I felt so guilty I actually CONFESSED ON PURPOSE to my husband, who stared at me for a good minute before just shaking his head and saying "Lizzy, that is just gross." I argued with him that he had no IDEA of the power of cravings but try as I might, I couldn't get him to believe for one second that it was a rationale decision to dig pastries out of the trash for a snack.

I guess I might see his point (although I believe the dogs were on my side as I've seen BOTH of them pick out a select morsel or two when they think no one is looking) and now I know the power of my dark side. New low or not, I now understand that I have very little control over myself in certain situations, and to avoid dumpster diving again during my pregnancy I vow never, EVER to throw away a good treat or sugar filled snack. That is my promise to unborn Baby E, who likely doesn't want to eat anything out of the trashcan either, but sure did love those sugar cookies.

The baby comes out WHERE?!?!

Okay, so I wasn't that clueless, but our very first childbirth class at the hospital on Sunday really did open my eyes to my complete ignorance about child birth. This mainly comes from the fact that I closed my eyes during the educational film in my human sciences class in college, and to date have skipped over ALL chapters about the birth in the many books I've read about the pregnancy. I was taking the whole "What I don't know can't hurt me" approach, but after this Sunday, let me promise you that what I didn't know (or didn't want to know) about having a baby is going to hurt the same, whether I know about it or not.

During the six (SIX) hour class, we were barraged by information, pictures, videos and diagrams that could make the toughest man cry if he were forced to view them long enough. You could see it around the room. All the women looked more than a little shell-shocked after a particularly visual birthing video and all the men had haunted looks in their eyes that very clearly said "Thank GOD this is going to happen to her and not me. "

I'm not going to go into detail, but lets just say I went home hoping that between now and March 22, scientists would come up with some miraculous discovery where babies could be born through some sort of high-tech gizmo, a sort of a "beam her out, Scotty!" technology where Baby E suddenly appears in my arms. Cute, cuddly, clean and pain free.

So, if there are any scientists out there currently developing this technology, please write to me. I believe in you. You can do it. Just do it quickly. Seriously... like by March 22.

Evil, hard hearted hostesses not affected by site of ginormous pregnant belly

Happy New Year to all! I hope you had a fun, safe and slightly drunken evening!

Ben and I were determined to make our NYE an event, despite our "limitations" (i.e. me). We had reservations at a fantastic new (to us) restaurant, I had a dress that still fit over my belly and made me look cute pregnant instead of obscenely large, and I spent the afternoon napping -- my insurance that I WOULD make it to midnight so Ben didn't have to ring it in alone.

We made it to the restaurant with a few minutes to spare before our reservations at 8 p.m., to ensure we were seated quickly. When we walked in, the charming hostess smiled at us, took our name and told us (very nicely) "Do you mind having a seat in the bar for a few minutes? We are running slightly behind". Ben and I were quick to assure her that of course we didn't mind sitting at the bar until our table was ready. We took a seat and Ben had a glass of wine while I sipped water and enjoyed the live jazz piano.

After about 15 minutes, I started to get a little antsy because, lets face it, eating is like breathing to me, and dinner at 8 was already pushing it. The bar was quickly filling with people and with a quick glance around the restaurant, you could tell no one was even close to leaving. At 8:20, Ben went to check with the hostess.

She offered to seat us ON THE PATIO. Ben came back seething (after having told the hostess that NO, we had reservations for inside and we were NOT sitting on the patio in 50 degree weather), and we went another 20 minutes without a table. Ben turns to me with his big brown eyes, and begs me to "USE THE BELLY". I'd almost forgotten the great power of the pregnant. I shucked my coat, stuck out Baby E as far as she would go and waddled through the now EXTREMELY crowded bar to the hostess stand.

I asked very sweetly how long it would be until a table was ready. With hands resting on TOP of my belly so she couldn't miss it, I let her know I was starting to feel slightly ill and just wanted to know if we would get a table soon or if we needed to leave due to my "fragile" condition. The hard hearted, evil hostess just looked at me, and I saw in her stone, cold, dead eyes that we were goners. "I remember your husband. We don't have a seat ready yet -- it should be soon," I implored how soon and she again gave me the dead-eye and told me "soon."

She gave me the willies. I left meekly, defeated and fairly certain the hostess had no soul.

Soon, the bar got even more crowded with the folks who were arriving for their 9 p.m. reservations. We start to make friends in the group, bonding together over our shared angst. At this point on NYE, we didn't even have a chance to go anywhere else for dinner. We were effectively stuck, unless we wanted Whoppers from a drive through.

Up until this point, Ben and I had insisted that we have a good attitude about the whole thing. We were being given lemons, and damn it if I didn't want to squeeze out some sweet, New Year's Eve lemonade. We talked, laughed, listened to the live music and generally enjoyed each other, so the evening wasn't a complete bust. However, I was getting to the point that I couldn't even pretend I was enjoying myself, and I was nearing tears when we saw a table open up. Ben grabbed my arm and we went up to the hostess stand, ready to demand it as our own. She bubbled with enthusiasm that YES! That WAS our table!! I wanted to hit her in the face, but instead just plopped into the chair and began begging with my eyes for a bread basket from any employee who walked by.

Long story short, the food was great, the service TERRIBLE, and we got no apology, no discount, no NOTHING for our 1 hour and 20 minute wait to get a table that we had a reservation for. But Ben and I made the best out of it, and honestly had a really good time -- and because of the wait, ended up not making it home until 11:30, which ensured I was awake by the time the ball dropped at midnight. Happy New Year's!

(P.S. if you are a Dallasite, the restaurant is Hector's on Henderson. Next time you are there, tell Hector for me that his hostess is a big meanie. That should fix her.)