Last night I had to run to the grocery store to pick up a frozen pizza for the lovely nanny to eat today.  As it always happens, I ended up getting a few other things.  Just the standard items like milk, cold cereal and soy sauce. 

It had been a hard day, so I decided to get myself a little treat to eat on the way home.  I bought a bottle of water and a box of donuts. 

I ate a tube of the donuts before I got back to our apartment.  I decided The King might like some to.  Hey, I’m a Giver.  I left one of the packages on the dashboard of the car.  I figured he’d find them when he left for work this morning.  I envisioned him seeing them on the dash and getting a smile on his face, instantly being reminded of what a good wife I am. 

I expected to get an e-mail from him this morning thanking me for his little surprise.  By 11:00, I hadn’t heard him sing my praises yet.

I finally broke down and e-mailed him, asking if he had found the donuts. 

About 3 seconds later he called me at my desk, laughing.

The King: (sarcastically) Thanks for the left-overs.

Isabel: They weren’t left-overs.  It was an unopened pack of donuts.  I thought you might like them.  I thought it would be a good way to start your day.

The King: Right.  It was a pack that wasn’t labeled for individual sale.  Which means it came in a box.  So, what happened to the rest of the donuts?  Did you eat them all last night?  Did you stop at Dairy Queen on your way home and dip the donuts into a Blizzard?

Isabel: I promise I didn’t have a Blizzard (yum…Blizzard), and I only ate one pack of the donuts. 

The King: So where are the rest of them?  Do you have them all hidden somewhere in the apartment?  I know how you operate.

Isabel: No, they aren’t hiding.  I have them here with me at work. 

The King: How many packs do you have left?

Isabel: I don’t know.  Let me look.

The King: (laughing) Where are you looking?  Under your shirt at your belly?  What else are you going to find there?  The Blizzard you had?

Isabel: (laughing so hard now, because I know I’m totally busted at this point) I gotta go.  I’m busy today.

Moments after I hung up the phone I got this e-mail from The King:

lies lies lies.

you shouldn’t lie this close to our anniversary.  or at all really.

I guess after 6 years of marriage he does know how I operate.  I buy the junk food and hide it from him and then look for credit when I do decide to share. 

And he’s right. I shouldn’t lie this close to our anniversary.  (Although it wasn’t a lie. They weren’t my left-overs. I just didn’t share as much as I should have.) What if I don’t get the sweet gift that he promised me?

I’ve been thinking of starting up my own daycare center. And I’m going to run it just like the daycares I’ve been dealing with. First I’ll be so great when you come to visit. I’ll have the kids tell you how they love it here. I’ll tell you all about the special vegan menus and show you the beautifully spacious playground we have. Then I’ll happily add you to our waiting list. I’ll assure you that you’re chances of getting in by the time you have your baby are great. Sure we’ll have an opening. Don’t worry! I’ll do this all while wearing a pretty prairie dress and a bun in my hair.

Then when you call during your pregnancy to see where you are on the waiting list, I’ll assure you, again, that you’ll get in. No worries. I’ll ask how your pregnancy is going and how you’re feeling. I’ll tell you that our monthly rate has gone up a little, and make sure that you’re still interested. You are still interested? Great. We look forward to taking care of your little guy.

Then when they call me after their baby is born, just to finalize their spot. I’ll laugh. Bwahhhh. The evil me will shine through. Screw my prairie dress. Who cares about my bun. I own you. I have you by your balls. You want daycare? Well sorry honey, you should have started soon. Our waiting list if over 100 people long.

I’ll still tell you that you have a chance. I’ll tell you that we can get you in a few months. I’ll suggest you drive out to the ‘burbs to your husbands Mom’s house and have her watch your precious newborn for the time being. Don’t worry. We’ll get you in. It just might take a few months.

And then I’ll drag it out even more. A few months will become a few months plus a few more weeks. And then those weeks will become months. Finally I just admit that we have bumped you down 4 more places on the list. I suggest that you find another daycare.

Jackasses. All of them.

They have all the power and they know it.

Can you tell that I’m a little upset with the daycare situation right now? I know, I’ve been upset before. But this time they finally just admitted that Babboo isn’t getting in. They told The King over the phone. He hung up and started cold calling some of the other places we had checked out. He called them randomly and just asked where we stood on their waiting list.

Guess what? One of the places said they just got an opening and it was ours if we could bring in a check the next day. This is perfect. This is the place we liked the best. The reason we didn’t go with them originally was because it’s about one million dollars more then we had planned on paying for daycare. But we’re desperate.

I don’t like making huge decisions about my child when I’m desperate.

I sort of feel like the random call The King made yesterday was a blessing. I mean, they just got the opening. And we get it.

But wait, what about their waiting list? Aren’t there other families above us? Shouldn’t they offer it to the person at the top of their list? Isn’t that how this whole thing works?

What has this taught me? This whole daycare thing is a racket. They don’t care about the waiting list. They care about how often you call and bug them (but don’t call too much) and if you happen to call the day they get an opening.

That sucks for the person at the top of their list. But perfect for us.

What does Babboo think about this?

Haa-haa babies. I got your spot at the daycare.

Babboo will start next week. He’ll be at home with me two days and with his dreamy (temporary) nanny the other two days.

We really should talk about TV more here at hola, isabel. (I love that I just linked to my own site.) I loved hearing that I’m not the only person out there addicted to television. I loved reading all of your comments about what show’s you’re watching. It gave me some good ideas for others shows I need to check out. (Haa-haa, as if I have any more free time that needs to be devoted to TV.)

Today was a very good day. Not only because things are going so well over at the new house (framing to be completed soon) and not only because it’s the weekend.

No, today was a good day because it was spent at the beach. For as close as we live to the beach, it’s surprising that we don’t go there more often. It’s sad that we don’t go there more often. I think it’s because we forget that we live this close to a beach. You know, because we don’t actually see the sun too much. And the fact that the water is so darned cold may have something to do with it. Yes, out here in Seattle the beach is just that. A beach. Nobody actually gets in the water.

Two of my closest friends and I (and our kids) packed our gear up and headed out to the beach. The sun was shining and the beach wasn’t packed. Plus we had Subway and soda. Two of my very favorite things.

Since Babboo is a newborn and I’ve heard rumor that babies should be in the sun until they are 6 months old, I was nervous. Freaked out is more like it. What if he got sunburned? What if his precious skin turned red? What if I have to take him to his Grandma’s house on Monday with a sunburn? Therefore proclaiming to my Mother-in-law that I’m a bad Mommy.

The answer is to totally cover your baby and protect him from the sun on ever angle. Even if he cries and just want to be held. Nope, keep him hidden.

Okay, I wussed out and decided to let him see the light of day. But only after I made sure he had long pants on, and a hat. And gobs of sunscreen. And when I was holding him I was sure to use my body as a sun shield. So as to protect his sweet little skin.

Can you tell what happened next? Yes, in my own tireless efforts to protect my Sweet Babboo from the Evil Son I ended up getting all sunburned and crabby. I was too busy being a Mommy Sun Shield to worry about putting sunscreen on my own pasty Never See The Sun Because I Live in Seattle skin.

I can promise you I’m paying for it now. I’m sitting here tonight at my laptop with my pajamas sticking to my neck and shoulders. Ouch.

Oh well, at least we had a blast today. And at least Babboo’s still perfect skin is fast asleep in his crib.

I promise to take loads of sunscreen with us when we go to LA in a few weeks. And I promise to actually apply it to my skin as well as Babboo’s.

I usually start all of my conversations with one of the follow sentences:

• Did you hear the latest This American Life? The one about…
• Babboo is so cute. Today he…
• I have this friend that I met on the world wide web. They totally…
• Did you see last night’s episode of…

The King has repeatedly told me that I can’t say that I have any “friends online”, and instead should just call them “friends” to avoid looking like a loser. I’m working on this one. He also says that when I share with people how much TV we watch we both look like losers.

That being said, I can’t stop myself from doing it. I am compelled to talk about my love of all things TV. I feel like I must not only discuss my theories of Lost (and also about how I’m so over the show, but am still watching it because, I MUST KNOW HOW IT WILL END), but I must also convince the world that they should be watching Veronica Mars and Hustle. (Please tell me how much you loved the episode with the homage to Bollywood!)

You aren’t watching Veronica Mars? What is wrong with you? It has murder and mystery and trendy clothes. It also has Logan. I love Logan. TV Goddess can attest to the fact that I always talk about Logan say things to her like “oh my gosh, will Veronica and Logan end up together?”, instead of the more important things like “Beaver was the killer? Really?”

You would think that summer time would mean the slow down of my love affair with my TiVo. But also, it is still going strong. The new season of Entourage just started last month. We love Entourage at our house. The King would like for us to get our own Turtle to drive us around LA while we’re on vacation in September. I just want to be Mrs. Ari. (Don’t tell him I told you, but The King wants to be Drama. Which I guess is better then the time he told me that he totally identified with Steve Sanders from 90210.)

We also have been watching Run’s House on Mtv. For being a reality show about a rapper from the 80’s, it’s a really good show. The Run’s (hee-hee) are a surprisingly normal family that just love each other. Plus the kids have awesome names like Diggy, Russy and Jojo. (No, not that Jojo) Plus, Mrs. Run just found out she’s pregnant.

I don’t even have to tell you how awesome Project Runway is. The internet is abuzz with its love for all things Heidi. Plus I love the whole “who will be auf’d?” tagline. Who writes that stuff? Because it’s awesomely perfect.

Somewhere The King heard about a new show (is it new? Maybe it’s old and we are just now hearing about it now) called It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Have you seen this? It’s crass, but also dark and funny. And there is a character named Sweet Dee, which is pretty much the most awesome nickname ever. I totally need a nickname like that. Although I am neither sweet nor named Dee. (Maybe my nickname should be Mean Izzy. No, that’s lame. But wait, I’m lame. Maybe Lame Izzy. I know, I need to shut it.)

I watched the entire second season of Intervention last week. That show is so intense that I usually can’t even look at most of the scenes. (It’s usually the scenes that involve actual people actually shooting up actual meth. I also can’t watch the scenes about bulimia. They show them throwing up. Ewwww!) Of course nobody compares to Gabe from Season One. Holy cow, that guy needed some serious help.

My BBF, HollowSquirrel introduced me to My Life on the D-List, which ended a few weeks ago. Of course Bravo is still playing it about 18 hours a day, so you can still check it out. I highly recommend it. As does Mrs. Squirrel. (I have since read rumors on the web that Kathy and Matt really weren’t reconciled and it was all for show during the filming. I hate to hear this. I still believe that reality TV is just that; reality.)

And this is the part of the conversation when The King kicks me under the table and tells me to shut up already, because you are not only embarrassing me but you’re embarrasing yourself.

So I must stop talking about TV now. But that doesn’t mean that you have to stop talking about it. So tell me, what do you think about my fave’s and what are your fave’s?

Updated to add:

Carrisa (who is getting married in like DAYS, so go over and congratulate her and Thom) commented and reminded me of the one show that I totally wanted to talk about when I started this post, but then I got thinking about Logan and Veronica and forgot. Doh.

The show? Windfall, have you heard of it? It’s a new show and I’ll admit the only reason I started to watch it was because it has Dylan Mckay on it (is my prior addiction to 90210 showing through?). I started off liking this show. I mean it has lottery winnings, murder, beautiful people, pregnancies, and Russian mail-order brides. What part of that doesn’t scream end of season hit? I got into the show, I admit. But now I hate it. It makes my stomach turn just watching it. Instead of the awesome topics I just mentioned it now has stolen kisses, cheating spouses, abondonment and (gasp) infidelity. All things that I hate.

I especially hate how the writers aren’t convincing me that Peter and Nina have a mad marriage. I don’t want Nina to be with Cameron. I hate that he is pressuring her to leave her husband. And that she’s thinking about it. Jerks. (I don’t want to start a big discussion on this. I’m just saying…)

And also, just because you put some dark foundation on the actress that plays Frankie, I don’t believe that she’s the daughter of an African American women. Can you honestly tell me that you couldn’t find a beautiful African American girl to play her? I mean, come on! I am not that dumb.

HollowSquirrel e-mailed me this morning to see if the pity party from yesterday was over. I am happy to announce that it is, in fact, over.

I can hear a giant “phew” coming from the internet.

Thanks for all your kind words. It really did help me to know that 1) I’m not alone and 2) I don’t have to be Superwomen.

Again, phew.

The 3-week temporary nanny/babysitter/nice gal from Church is watching Babboo today. We had dinner with her and her lovely husband last night and she seemed to pass the test. (The “test” being, “do you like Mexican food?”, which she did. Again, phew!)

She was a nanny for a family with five kids. One of which was a newborn. So I’m pretty sure she knows what she’s doing. Plus she’s very pretty. And very skinny. And has good hair. And great teeth.

I left for work this morning way before Missy (not her real name) arrived. I made sure The King knew what all he needed to tell her. But since I’m a freak, I also left her a two page letter.

Do you need to know how much of a freak I am? Let me give you a sampling of what I actually wrote in the letter to Missy:

• Don’t shake the baby
• Don’t put the baby in the pool
• Don’t take the baby out on the balconies
• Put the baby to sleep on his back
• Instructions for heating his bottles

Yes, I actually wrote these things out. As if she is stupid and would take the baby out on the balcony, ala Michael Jackson.

I called The King at work to see how the changing of the guards went with her.

Isabel: How did it go this morning?

The King: (rolling his eyes at how lame I am) She didn’t show up with a suitcase full of her swimming gear, so I’m pretty sure she’s not going to take Babboo in the pool.

Isabel: You never know. I have to protect our baby.

The King: I guess she could put him in the pool all by himself. But only after she shakes him while out on the balcony.

Isabel: Hey, I was just trying to cover all the bases.

The King: I also reminded her that Babboo needs medicine rubbed on his boy parts three times a day. He’ll thank me for that one when he’s older.

I told Missy that I’ll be coming home for lunch today. Which I’m really not planning on doing. But I want to keep her on her toes. (I learned that trick from my Mom.)

I’m just a little crazy and all I can think is Isabel, Welcome to Motherhood.