Deep Thinking, Brace Yourself

I think I'm finally getting my brain back from being pregnant, and this has me really excited. Not just because maybe now I'll stop walking into doorframes or because the doctors at work keep giving me funny looks after something drooling-level stupid comes out of my mouth; no, I have to admit that I miss being smart.

I used to be smart. Like really smart. I could answer questions on Jeopardy - final Jeopardy, not just the sissy first round. But then I got pregnant, and I started asking things like how many gallons were in a gallon of milk. True story.

So I've caught myself lately having these startling moments of clarity that really aren't all that startling, or wouldn't be for anyone normal. But to me in my sleep-addled and exhausted mind, these revelations are absolutely everloving brilliant.

Like for instance, I have no idea why I have to have myself fingerprinted for my Washington State nursing license. Why, you ask? Well, I'll tell you. When I first got my nursing license there, oh so many moons ago, I was fingerprinted then. I have already proved that Geriann Cook is, in fact, Geriann Bartz and yes, I was brave enough to take that last name. So unless fingerprints morph once you're married into the fingerprints of an obedient wife rather than an unwed slacker, the cards should still be good. I watch CSI, I know how this works.

Update: This just in. As I was typing this, I remember why I have to get my fingerprints redone. Because those cards were for my California license, and they got lost by this state. Big shock there. Okay, so my revelation wasn't that great, but at least talking it out in smartass fashion made me remember what happened.

Moving on.

Last night I watched Transformers at roughly 3am. I love this movie, because I love Transformers. They're more than meets the eye, just like me. I look like a placid mother of one that smiles a lot and laughs, but in reality I am a super secret ninja nurse that ties people to beds and pokes them with shiny, sharp objects, all while preparing for a Zombie invasion. Let's face it - when the Zombies come, nurses are going to be the front line and you sorry sacks are going to want to know at least one nurse. So you better line up because I might just forget I know you in a Zombie Holocaust. My birthday is January 13th. Write it down.

Okay but anyway, back to the point. I was watching Transformers and I realized something. Autobots and Decepticons are from Cybertron, described by Optimus Prime as a peaceful, powerful empire. But then it was all ruined when Megatron, the leader of the Decepticons, betrayed them all.

Okay, hold up. Let's run through that again. Megatron, the leader of the Decepticons, betrayed them all.

So, it's a race of highly intelligent and sentient robots that supposedly coexisted in a peaceful and powerful empire for thousands of years. . .and they didn't see that coming? Really? Decepticon? Should they have been called Betrayobots? Traitormatics? What could possibly have made it clear to the Autobots that hey, maybe the Decepticons will live up to their name and royally screw our entire society.

Then again, I can't really point fingers. I'm pretty sure Optimus Prime would know how many gallons were in a gallon of milk.

Opinion!

I actually had time last night to start Hadley's babybook/scrapbook. I was hoping to see what others thought of the front and back cover. I know the text is a little hard to read here but in the print version it shows up nicely. Enjoy!

Answers!

So, we are moving the second week of March. I would LOVE, LOVE, LOVE to plan a get-together. I am really bummed I didn't get to see my Tri-Cities tribe when I came home.

Also, I will gladly post updates when I post new pictures - fair warning, I post new pictures at an incredible rate. Bev is certain that she has never seen so many pictures of one baby. Since there's upwards of 300 and she's only three months old. . .I'm no math major, but that's a lot of pictures!

Your Wish is My Command

Amy requested in no uncertain terms that I get off my lazy ass and get back to my blog. I haven't been doing much lately, other than mommying and getting back into the swing of things with work...except for one odd behavior I've picked up.

I've become...girly.

Truly, disgustingly girly. I do my hair, I wear makeup. I wear shirts with neither cartoon characters nor smartass sayings on them. They all have a collar. I freaked out people at work, who have only mostly seen me in jeans, t-shirts and a belt with a Batman buckle, when I showed up in a blue oxford and dress slacks.

I'm not sure what's gotten into me, but the tomboy in me is both repelled and fascinated. I like the way I feel getting all gussied up. I actually spent a gift card on a curling iron, an implement of torture I swore I'd never, ever use. And then. . .then came the curlers.

I bought myself a set of ionic curlers for my birthday and played with them tonight. The results were painfully feminine; I felt like a pinup girl after. It wasn't bad for my first try doing girly crap with my hair, especially when my hair is in desperate need of a cut and style.

I'm not sure what's happened to me, but at least I look good doing it.

F This.

It's eight below here. I checked the weather on Jake's Wii yesterday and it's warmer in both the South and North poles than it is in Minnesota right now. I'm practically on a friggin' dogsled.

And my flights better not get cancelled to Washington. Everyone say a prayer, because I will seriously flip my shit.

Best Fight Ever.

Matt, as he gets out of the shower: Geri, here's the deal.
Me: What?
Matt: Here's the deal. I filled up the blue dinosaur with water and I left him next to the soap in the shower filled up. The last time I did that, you emptied him out and put him back in the toy caddy with the other squirt toys.
Me: Yes, yes I did. Why do we need a dinosaur filled up with water in the shower?
Matt: Because sometimes there's spiders in the shower and I have to squirt them away!
Me: ....
Matt: And it takes me a really long time to fill him up! I have to cup my hand against my belly and let the water fill up and then let the dinosaur drink the water to fill him up.
Me: I'm...I'm sorry. I'll never empty the dinosaur again.
Matt: Good.

And he pranced off to the bedroom. I never thought I'd hear a logical argument for a grown man to play with a bathtub dinosaur, but I was once again proven wrong by Matthew Bartz.

Sigh.

I hate it when my gut feeling turns out to be right.

Caylee