The countdown.

Once CPT Dick returns from the field, we'll be heading stateside for Christmas. We are only flying back for a few days -- which, of course, will be so much fun with a toddler! -- but since he is due to deploy early next year, the family wants to see him. I don't blame them. But I have dubbed this sojourn the "guilt trip" since that is pretty much what is motivating it.

So yeah, I'm not looking forward to it. And it's not that I don't want to see his family (though his mother is crazy in a way that is totally annoying and usually directed at me). But really, it's that I don't want to be asked by every single individual family member when I'm going to have a little brother or sister for Munchkin.

You know how you start dating someone for a while and the family starts to ask when you are going to get engaged? And then you get engaged and they ask when the wedding will be? And then pretty much as soon as your new spouse smooshes cake in your face they start in about babies? The baby thing continues, apparently, ad nauseum, until you have 2-3.

(And I guess, after that, if you keep popping 'em out, after the fourth or fifth the family will ask when you plan to start using birth control).

I hate this question. One, I just think it's nobody's business. What if I couldn't have another? Doesn't that ever occur to anyone before they ask? But two, when was it decided that I'm failing my child if I don't pop him out a playmate? I just hate the assumption that if my reaction is not "we're working on it" -- maybe even emphasizing it by throwing my husband down on the floor right there and then -- that I'm somehow cheating my kid.

It's not like they don't know our situation and that I'm effectively a single parent. It's not like they don't know (and give me all sorts of useless advice) about Munchkin's speech issues. And it's not like they haven't heard us say, time and time again, that we're not ready and don't think we will be for some time. They keep asking, thinking that if they do, they'll get a different answer.

And when our answers become terse? They skip the questions altogether and just start saying crap to my kid like, "Just wait until you get a little sister, buddy! You won't be so spoiled then!" or "Tell your Mama that you need a little brother to play with!"

It's exhausting, really. I think this year, maybe I'll just start fucking back with them. When they ask when Munchkin gets a sibling, I'll just say that we're still working out the details with the Russian ex-crack whore who agreed to be our surrogate for $15,000 and a Volkswagon.

Gifts for that super-annoying person who has it all.

Last year, a few friends asked me to share my list of website stores that for those hard-to-shop-for people on their holidays lists . The list has been whittled and changed some but I figured I'd share it with the blogosphere. It's always great to have some other options -- especially when you are looking for something a little different.

• Stonewall Kitchen. Sure, you could go for the Harry and David's fruit basket but why not try some of the scrumptious sauces and jams from Stonewall Kitchen? I highly recommend the chocolate peanut butter sauce, blueberry syrup and potato pancake mix. You can also choose from their gift baskets or make one of your own. Every single person I've given one to has become a loyal Stonewall customer since.
  
• OyeModern. This is a new online store but it has some of the most incredibly funky jewelry. I don't even wear that much jewelry and I'd be thrilled with a pair of the stacked earrings (shown in photo) in my stocking this year.
  
• CafePress. You can never go wrong with a fun t-shirt and CafePress has slogans, designs and photos for all races, walks and creeds. My current favorite is the "Save Britney: Where There's a Wig, There's a Way" t-shirt.
  
• BabyWit and PsychoBabyOnline. In the same vein, there are these fun and funky baby clothes stores. Because -- seriously, folks -- is there anything cuter than a two-year-old in an anarchy t-shirt? I didn't think so.

Here's hoping that your Christmas shopping is painless and quick!

The most wonderful time of the year.

How the hell is it December already? Seriously? Is it me, or has this year flown by way too fast?

I meant to post a few times this week but time just got away from me. I'm trying to finish up all that extra work, return the house to a semi-clean form since CPT Dick left again, chase after a two-year-old run amok AND address and write out 162 holiday cards.

That's not a typo. 162. And I even trimmed the list this year (based on outdated addresses). That's enough cards to make one's hand cramp up.

You see, not only do the CPT and I hail from Catholic families that like sex so much they'll risk repetitive procreation -- and our gaggles of cousins now have their own broods, some of whom are old enough to have kids -- but we are a military family. So every couple years we move and add a few more names to the holiday card list. Some of these people I haven't spoken to in years -- and yet, I can't bring myself to remove them from the holiday card list, the sole connection left.

My hand is going to hurt. I may be injured to the point where it affects my online Christmas shopping. But I'd like to think it might be worth it.

On what books teach our children.

"Babe, what happened to my bathroom book?"

"Which one?"

"Well, any one of them. I think I had the Templars book in there and maybe one other."

"Try 6."

"Huh?"

"You had six books in there, precariously stacked and waiting to fall into the toilet or bathtub."

"Huh. Who knew? So where are they now?"

"The books? Well, I know this is going to sound kind of crazy to you but I put them on the bookshelf."

"The bookshelf?"

"Yes. The bookshelf. The shelf that was made, so I'm told, to put books on. Specifically to put books on. Even more than six."

"Well, put them back into the bathroom because all I had to read while I was in there was Munchkin's 'Ten Apples on Top,' and you know, by the fifteenth or sixteenth reading, I found there was some powerfully disturbing subtext in there."

What I want for Christmas.

Now if only they would make an adult-sized Sit-n-Spin.

On hormones after having kids.

How do I know that my hormones were permanently altered after the birth of my son? When I saw that Ginger, Baby, Mel C. and Victoria Beckham -- all of the other Spice Girls -- came to the "Dancing with the Stars" finale to cheer on their mate, Mel B., I started to tear up. I'm serious. And then when I realized that I was tearing up over the Spice Girls, I started actually crying wondering if maybe something has gone totally haywire in my brain.

Luckily, their collective booing when the judges said they expected more from Mel B.'s routine helped bring me back 'round to reality.

Heartbreaking.

Did you see the NY Times article, "Free and Uneasy" about Jeffrey Deskovic? He was convicted of rape and murder and served 16 years, only to be exonerated by DNA evidence.

My heart broke with the whole story. What can truly compensate a man for all that he's lost in a wrongful capital conviction?

What's your Travel IQ?

We are a well-traveled bunch. What's your Travel IQ?

I got to Part 10. Traveler IQ = 110.

Prolific.

You know, I read this great article this week. It was really well-written and it pointed out some well-thought out arguments about a controversial topic. It was incredibly thought-provoking. As soon as I finished it, I thought, "You know, I need to blog about this!" I thought it would stimulate some really interesting conversation.

But I forgot what it was or even where I read it. And thought I told myself at the time to bookmark it, I was distracted and did not.

And later, CPT Dick and I had this totally perfect talk that would have been perfect "Conversation" blogging fodder. It was funny, kind of ironic. Just the kind of thing I usually use. But I can't recall a single sentence. You'll just have to take my word on it.

Munchkin has been cute as ever. And he flushed something funny down the toilet but, honestly, I'm sort of blanking on that, too.

And, of course, with the guys back, there is all kinds of FRG-related crazy. But I'm trying to float about it. So nothing to say there, either, really.

What can I say? I'm one of those prolific blogger types!

So this is how conservatives dress, is it?

Today, a spouse new to the area needed a ride to the PX. Though I really, really wanted to say, "Hell, no! Don't you know it's still Thanksgiving weekend and the place will be packed?!" I obliged.

As I waited for our newest arrival to find some cleaning supplies and diapers, I wandered over to the book section. And wouldn't you know, just in time for Christmas, there was a HUGE display of Ann Coulter's new book, "If Democrats Had Any Brains, They'd Be Republicans." I'm guessing it's due to Coulter's giving nature and forgiving Christian sentiments. Either that, or they just had to find something to take up the extra-large display table that they bought for the last Harry Potter book.

(Note to readers: Yes, that was sarcasm. If I told you what I really thought of Coulter, we'd be here a long time and you'd probably think I had a potty mouth).

Both in curiosity and disgust, I picked up the book and read a couple pages. It looks like more of the same -- pointless, hate-filled drivel.

But one thing struck me. You know, for a conservative, Ann doesn't mind showing us the cleavage. Or her legs. On the cover of every book I've ever seen, she's dressed more like Carmen Electra than Ruth Bader Ginsburg. What is with that?

Not that I like Ann at all but there might be a slightly greater chance that I might listen to her for a second if she only practiced what she preached. Or at least occasionally appeared to do so.