Game face

Brian and Sherri, along with their friends Nate and Brady, took Brennan to his first Cardinals game on Saturday. Since the game was in Kansas City and not St. Louis, the jury is still out on whether or not this really counts. Grandma Pat will cast the deciding vote.

Despite their recent trials with the KC Royals, the Cards managed to bring home a win, which, of course, has everything to do with Brennan's attendance. The little lad stayed awake for most of the game, so I think we have a tried-and-true Cards fan on our hands. No word yet on whether or not Brady and Nate gave him his first ballgame beer. Click here for the full set.

I'm sorry it had to end this way, Mr. Royale

Friends have told me that pregnancy, the kind soul that she is, keeps expectant mothers entertained with crazy, vivid dreams, the likes of which you've never had. Well, we can check that off the list.

During the first two months I had a few dreams that were alarming in a "Law and Order: Debbie in Scenes Ripped from the Headlines" sort of way. I rarely remember my dreams, but of course the scary ones are seared into my subconscious. Luckily, the based-on-a-true-story dreams didn't last long, and I went for a month without anything memorable. Until last night. Now it would appear I've moved on to dreams that pair me with people I only know from TV, the neighborhood, chance encounters and the like.

Sharing this particular dream means that Chip will never again let me sink my teeth into The Royale's tasty brisket taco goodness, but I'm out of blog material until Brennan comes back into town, so here we go.

I'm a swinging single again, but I'm pregnant. (Sorry, mom.) I'm not really showing -- kind of like now. A faceless friend and I are at The Royale one night, and the owner, who is apparently one Steven Fitzpatrick Smith, takes a fancy to yours truly. Keep in mind that while I probably would recognize him on the street, the most interaction I've had with this man is when he's waved us to a table at The Royale. Anyway, he knows that Dream Debbie is preggers, and he still dines and dances me around the The Royale for nights on end. Yes, there's dancing. (I know, I dance about as often as I take a shine to guys in pork pie hats.) Anyway, at some point during our budding romance, Dream Debbie decides that hey, what's a glass of wine or two among a mother and her fetus? Apparently the server, the one-and-only Chad Michael Murray from "One Tree Hill," decides fetal alcohol syndrome is cool and starts bringing my friend and I umpteen glasses of wine. Mr. Royale sees this, and knowing that I have no self-control when it comes to the sauce, swoops in and punches Chad Michael Murray. While Dream Debbie is miffed that her wine was spilled in the ensuing brawl, she is secretly relieved to know that the baby isn't bombed out of its mind.

I like to think that Mr. Royale and I made up over a plate of brisket tacos, but Chip decided to wake me up at that exact moment. It's probably for the best. Can you imagine the havoc that would ensue if I was bethrothed to a bar owner? Even in dream world?

Popped

My pants and I aren't really seeing eye to eye lately. I think they should fasten, and they think half-closed zippers could be the next big thing since tight-rolled pants.

I'd like to think Tro is responsible for the recent change to my profile, but let's be honest here. I've ingested massive amounts of these cupcakes lately, and according to the Mayo Clinic pregnancy guide, carrot cake doesn't count as a vegetable serving. Thank heavens for the Bella Band. The comfort of elastic-waist pants without the itch of polyester.

And, exhale.

Bless the husband

In case I haven't mentioned it lately, I am quite lucky to haveChip. I am also lucky that he has three older sisters so he's accustomed to the female brand of craziness that I like to bust out from time to time. Maybe that's why he hasn't left yet.

As you may have noticed, I love shopping. I am not, however, such a fan of the people and products that go hand-in-hand with my favorite past time. One of the stores that has yet to win my favor is Babies 'R' Us. One, the spelling is ridiculous. Two, it's hard to navigate, even for veteran shoppers. Three, the sales people are good at greeting you, and that's about it.

Despite my misgivings and past experiences, a shower gift was required, so I went to the South County store over lunch. Of course, the baby monitor my cousin requested on her registry was only available in a box that looked like something Buddy shook to death. Why it was on the shelf and why the sales person thought someone would buy it is beyond me. I mean, really. Yes, you're right! That electronic device in the smashed box will surely work. And yes, I would be proud to have the recipient hoist it over her head and name yours truly as the giver. What an impression I'll make at the baby shower!

Since I had yet to eat lunch and was quickly reaching meltdown status, I asked the sales person to set one aside at the Fairview Heights store, called Chip, asked if he had time to do a registry run, and voila! the monitors are mine to gift wrap. If only I had thought of this the first time, I wouldn't have had to go to Baby Wal-Marts in the first place.

Come on in, the water's great

Lesson learned: When it comes to buying only what's on the list, don't send a spend-happy dad to do a mother's job. Sherri sent Brian out Saturday morning to pick up some diapers and he came home with a "surprise" for Brennan. Sherri thought for sure it was a new puppy or a miniature dirt bike, so she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Brennan's new frog pool.

I suggested that Sherri give Brian an allowance each week so as to cut back on the excessive toy buying, but then Chip reminded me that every toy Brian buys for Brennan is one less we have to buy for Tro.

Escape attempt, take one

Perhaps Chip and I were a little too optimistic in thinking that Buddy would be on board with this baby thing. We reasoned that since he ignores us, what's one more person to ignore? He discourages petting and only cuddles because he likes furniture versus the floor, so we really thought he was a prime candidate for being a great four-legged big brother.

Well, tonight he saw his chance for blessed baby-free freedom and took it.

Around dusk, Buddy and I headed out to do some watering in the front yard. Typically I do the dirty work while Buddy surveys his domain from the porch. I was wrapping up the watering when I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. Strolling by was the tan and white cat that roams the neighborhood. I dropped the hose and was heading over to grab Buddy when he rocketed off the porch and went tearing across the street after the cat. My heart raced as I took off after them in my flip-flops, yelling Buddy's name and thinking of how he was wearing a collar, but no tag. Oh, and I also thought of how great it would be to greet Chip after his class and tell him, "Hey, I lost the dog, but the good news is that this baby won't be mobile for the first year, so no problem."

Of course, the cat went to the one house on our block that doesn't have a gated and fenced yard. Seriously, couldn't the cat have picked a nice dead-end gangway? I reached the alley and was trying to decide which way to go when Buddy came careening around the corner. He knew he was in hot water, but I somehow grabbed his collar and managed to drag him across the street. I released him once we were in our yard, and he cruised up to the stairs like we do this every night.

We're in the house now and the doors are locked, so there will be no more escape attempts tonight. He keeps following me everywhere, but we're still not speaking. Just wait until his father gets home.

The nephew has an announcement

Hear ye, hear ye. The nephew would like it to be known that Baby Lindh is on the way. Brennan will get a brand-spanking new cousin in late December. Let's hear it for that last-minute tax deduction!

To make the announcement truly blog-worthy, Sherri made a sign, Brennan obliged with a pose and Grandpa Steve provided some behind-the-camera assistance to make sure Brennan hammed it up. Here are few more shots from the photo session. Brennan knocked it out in a few shots, which is pretty impressive considering the little guy has a double-ear infection.

Back to the Lindh baby. Moving forward, you will probably be hearing more about the baby-to-be. Fear not, Brennan fans -- I will still give his handsomeness plenty of press. Besides, I think we'd all rather look at pictures of Brennan rather than ultrasound images. Anyway, so there's no confusion, I'll be referring to the little lime inside of me (apparently that's the size of the baby this week) as Tro. For those of you who don't know, Chip is actually George Charles Lindh III. His dad is the second (junior, actually), which is why we affectionately refer to him as Dos. So, because of the crazy Lindh name game and the fact that we like to use what little Spanish we know, Chip and I have always referred to any future children we might have as Cuatro -- Tro for short. Chip was really rooting for Cletus the Fetus, but then I pointed out that Tro the Embryo has a nice ring to it.

So, there you have it. Team Botanical will soon be a family of four, and Buddy will be a big brother. I guess I should adjust the heading on this blog.

Come and get it

The Father's Day Follies set is ready for your viewing pleasure. Click here and then sit back, relax and revel in all that is Brennan. Later we can talk about how much thicker his hair is since the last time I took his picture.

Crinkle your nose kind of fun

We saw ol' crinkle nose this weekend, so you know what that means -- I can't edit the photos fast enough to please Brennan's fan base. More cuteness to come, but this will have to do for now.

Rob to the rescue

We visited with the recently-expanded Hehmeyer clan on Friday night, and at one point Chip mentioned that our kitchen was in working order, with the exception of the dishwasher. Rob asked if he had knocked out some little piece before connecting the dishwasher hose to the disposal. Um, no, but that sure would be great if it's that easy of a fix. So when we returned home that night, Chip took apart the hose, removed the offending piece and we now have a working dishwasher.

Thanks to Rob for remembering this from when he installed his mom's garbage disposal, and thanks to everyone else for loving every last bit of the dishwasher discussion. I know it's been fascinating.

So close

The counter tops are glorious, and I heart my new sink. The new garbage disposal is quiet as a mouse, which is excellent as I can now talk on the phone and dispose away without my mom asking me to stop banging pots, and my sister refusing to talk to me until all is quiet.

The dishwasher, however, is another story. We ran a load on Wednesday night, only to discover an inch of water that refuses to leave the premises. So, back we go to the hand washing until Chip determines why our dishwasher hates me. I must say, however, that an extra-deep sink does make life much better, as I can now wash dishes without looking like I just gave Buddy a bath.

One more day until dishwasher bliss

For the past two weeks we have been without a dishwasher or garbage disposal while waiting for our new countertops to be cut and installed. Major drama. The paint is chipped from the removal, and despite Buddy's best attempts to clean the plates before washing, something is blocking the drain. I know what you're thinking: It's a wonder they're still married. I mean, really. Everyone knows Chip and I don't do so well with things being out of place.

When Chip and my dad first removed the counter tops, for five days straight we used our downstairs bathroom as a dish washing station until Chip could get the sink/counter top combo back upstairs and the water line reattached. In case you were wondering, washing dishes in a pedestal sink is about as fun as it sounds. However, I do have a greater appreciation for the deep windowsills in these old houses. Not only are they beautiful, they make killer drying racks. Despite our powder room's best attempt at pulling double duty, we knew the kitchen/bathroom combo had to go when our friend Andy asked, "Mind if I take a leak in your kitchen?"

The sink was reinstalled the next day, and the real joy of hand washing dishes began. Every time Chip or I opened a drawer or cabinet, we would pause and contemplate whether or not using a spoon, bowl, plate or glass was truly necessary. I thought Chip might lose it the day I came home with a week's worth of Gladware containers. (By the way, that was such a Denis move on my part. My dad would deposit his Tupperware containers on the counter each Friday, and it totally drove my mom nuts.) I reasoned that I was saving money by bringing leftovers; Chip said he would have happily given me the money to eat out every day.

Luckily, our dish-soap conservation will cease tomorrow night, as my dad is coming over to help Chip reattach the water lines, garbage disposal and dishwasher. I can't decide if I'm more excited about the granite, or about having a fully operational kitchen. Of course, this means I'll have to start cooking again.

Many thanks to the Red Baron for seeing us through this trying time.

The new girl

Our good friends Rob and Amanda welcomed sweet Charlotte Mae into the world yesterday. Again with the great names.

I'm already anxious to hear stories about big sister Anna Lee's meet and greet with her new sibling. I don't think Charlotte's arrival will phase Murphy the Weimaraner too much, though. As long as he can continue to lounge on the couch, the more the merrier!

The dog makes a good point

As Buddy reminded me this morning, it has been an entire month since I last posted about our bouncing baby Lab. For shame, for shame.

At three years and 70 pounds, I guess Buddy's not really our baby Lab anymore. He's more of a toddler. A big hairy toddler. With questionable bathing habits. Come to think of it, he may be going through the terrible threes right now. There's been a recent influx of early-morning whining, selective listening, insistent "feed me" paw stomping, and at the farmers market two weeks ago he put on quite a show. I was talking with one of the proprietors when Buddy decided that yes, the asphalt beneath us would be perfect for a late-morning back rub. Down he went, writhing and whining away as only he can. Small children pointed; grown adults steered clear. So, yes, he was scratching, but I guess you could liken it to a full-on temper tantrum. Of course I rewarded his behavior with a Companion Bakery dog biscuit. What can I say? Chip caves to children, I cave to dogs.

To make amends with the Lab of my life and those who love all things Buddy (read: me and Chip), I am pleased to bring you Buddy's latest and greatest.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I must hurry home so I can start bailing water.

Baby rush

This week brought three new additions to our circle of friends. Chip's coworker Katie and her husband Tim welcomed twin girls, Ava and Olivia, and our friends Brian and Melanie are the proud parents of James Henley. What a wonderful bunch of names. Seriously, how awesome is Henley? Props to Brian on that one.

I can't wait to meet all the little peanuts. After I find the perfect gift for each, of course.

Be vewy, vewy quiet

This little gem was spotted and snapped by my friend Cori Wilson as she parked her car at the KC Hall in Perryville, Mo., site of the classic small-town wedding she attended this past weekend. I credit her Mizzou J-School education for being able to spot this, her sarcastic husband Justin for being able to appreciate the absurdity, and her excellent mom-ness for having a camera at the ready.

Thanks to Cori for recognizing that I am the Jay Leno of blogs and letting me use this.

It's Monday, alright

I considered using "Someone's got a case of the Mondays" for the title, but decided it hasn't been quite that bad of a Monday. Just a few hiccups this morning, sort of like the obstacles Brennan encountered when he tried crawling the other night. My particular obstacle course had a few more players -- a car, a narrow alley, a dumpster and a garbage truck -- but you can see where I'm going with this. Anyway, after pulling off a wicked three-point turnabout in the alley, I managed to make it to work with 15 minutes to spare before my meeting. And that's driving on fumes, thank you very much.

Moving on! Allow me to subject you to a weekend recap. Buddy and I motored out to Highland on Friday night to have dinner with my parents and the Jones family. While I could have used about ten times as much Brennan time, I must remind myself that I'll get to see the little pipsqueak over the Father's Day weekend. And while our time together was brief, I still managed to take quite a few pictures before Buddy and I drove back to St. Louis in the storm to beat all storms. I would like to tell you that Buddy bravely sat by my side as we soldiered through the blinding rain and whipping winds, but he was sound asleep in the backseat. At least the beating rain drowned out his snoring.

Saturday brought the usual fun household chores, some plant relocation, a little sun worship, happy hour pina coladas and a delicious Guido's pizza for dinner. (Love the name and the pizza.) Sunday we did early mass (sorry, eighth graders, but the though of a 90-minute graduation mass made us feel faint), exchanged yet another coffee maker at Bed Bath & Beyond and then had a lovely barbecue out at the Lindh estate. The Clifford family was in from KC, so it was nice to have everyone together. Ben, the other baby nephew, is having some mommy separation and teething issues so he freaked every time I went near him, but I'm trying not to take it personally.