TSA Owes Us A Baby Gift

My adventures on the road began to get even more interesting than normal once I became pregnant.  I quickly figured out where all the bathrooms were in the airports and buildings I frequent, I spent more time in the airplane bathroom than I ever hoped, a bit of vomit in unfortunate places,  I learned not to wear heals late in a pregnancy and most importantly - I got to know the TSA agents on a very intimate level. So much so, that some of them at the smaller airports started to recognize me.  With all this time spent together, I really thought they'd get baby TB a gift - perhaps even a card.  But I still seem to be waiting.  You may ask why I spent so much time with the TSA during my pregnancy.  Oh, just a little thing called a full body pat down.

The full body scanners have been in use for a while and although I find it a bit disturbing to go through them on a regular basis, I honestly don't have much time to think about it and the thought of a pat down was never very appealing so I just ignored the weirdness of it and went through the machine.  Until I found out I was pregnant.  I figured that I went through the machines 2-4 times a week and perhaps it was time I stopped.  Just in case.  For at least nine months.  For nine months I was touched and rubbed down by TSA agents all over the country while I declined to go through the scanner and asked for a pat down in stead.  The TSA spent the most "intimate" time with me, next to my OB, over the past months - hence why I thought they should get us a card in the very least.  What I found most interesting about this process were some of the responses by the TSA agents when I asked for the voluntary pat down.  Some of my favorites:

At the Baltimore airport: 
Me:  I'd like a pat down please
TSA Agent:  (looking at my face, down to my stomach, back to my face)  Oh.  OK.  I'll call Barbara.  You'll really like her, she's the best one at the pat downs

Hmmmm.  The best?  What does that mean?  More thorough?  I'm not sure I want a more thorough pat down.   And shouldn't you all be really good at your jobs?  And I'm not sure I want to "like" the person who's touching me in front of all these strangers at the airport.  I'd like to get this done, no chit chat and then let's get out of here.  End of story.

At the Sarasota airport:
Me:  I'd like a pat down please
TSA Agent:  (looking at my face, down to my stomach, back to my face)  Oh.  OK.  I'll call Susan.  She used to work at the jail and really knows what she's doing.  She used to do full cavity searches on all the female inmates.

Are you kidding me?  This is not a cavity search.  I don't want 'ol Susan to get a little over zealous and think she's back at the jail.

At practically every airport, every time I asked for a pat down:
Me:  I'd like a pat down please
TSA Agents:  (looking at my face, down to my stomach, back to my face)  You do know this is safe for pregnant women - right?
My internal dialogue:  Oh.  Pardon me.  I didn't realize you have extensively looked at the research with this technology.  Or is that just what your TSA manual tells you to say?  And wait.  There is no research on pregnancy and the new airport scanners because that would be unethical.  And I'm sure in 10 years when they figure out there are some adverse effects, you will personally be responsible for the medical bills because you said this was safe.  Is that right?
My actual response:  (no verbal response, roll of the eyes and then diligently took my place in line for my pat down) 

These were such unpleasant experiences that I suppose I'll just go back to the invasive scanning machine once I start traveling again.  I just can't take a chance on Susan in Sarasota and her full cavity searches.

And on to more baby photos!

Baby Tarbutton Has Arrived!

Similar to this post when the Tarbutton family was last expanded - we have a new addition to announce!  A baby TB was born on July 19th at 3:09 PM.  He arrived a week early, but right on time according to grandma Shinnick's prediction.  He looks like neither one of us - unless we hold him at a distance, squint our eyes and try really hard - then we can see some of TB in his eyes and nose..  But then again that's probably a stretch.  Regardless, we think he's a pretty darn cute kid even though we have no idea where the cuteness comes from.

We've been overwhelmed by all the congrats, gifts, phone calls and messages - thanks to you all.  Baby TB is lucky to have so many people excited to see his arrival and watch him grow into a full sized TB.

The Button Life posting was a little lax during the pregnancy and although it was a relatively uneventful pregnancy in terms of my well being and baby TB's health - there were definitely some blog-worthy moments.  I have notes (because I love notes and lists) and plan to update during my maternity leave.

In the mean time, a new baby means lots of obligatory photos - so I'll leave it at that for this post.  Enjoy!

He really is ours... and we wanted to make sure no one stole him....

Father/son love

Our exit from the hospital - it looks like I could use a lesson or two in holding a baby.

James may be just a bit too little for posing in front of the gigantor chalkboard from Grandpa Shinnick - but we made it work.

Our first bath....

was not a happy time.

A sweet sigh of relief when it was over

1+1=3

Seems like a bit of monkey math.  I think it can be best illustrated by this:

You got it.  Our little family of two will soon become a family of three! Sometime around the end of July.  We're unbelievably excited and can't wait to meet the little guy.

From here on out, I'll try not to turn the blog into baby land and keep some random musings on life scattered here and there - although I'm sure you'll all get a healthy dose of baby TB.  BUT..... a few things you will not see on this blog:

1.  A picture of a positive pregnancy test:

You'll have to take our word for it.  I'm not keen on displaying a stick which has been soaked in my urine for all to see.  I can read.  Trust me.  It said "pregnant".  I will not deny that one of those pictures exists; however it's cryptically filed away and categorized on our home computer.

2.  A picture of my insides:

- Kudos to everyone who posts pictures of ultrasounds, but I'm not comfortable posting a picture on the interwebs of my uterus.  Personal preference here.

3.  Absolutely any pregnant photos of me.  At all.  Not even one.:

- Call me vain, but I'm not interested in having pictures of this time in my life.  Considering the icky way I've been feeling, I'm sure I'll remember these 9  months well.  I don't need photos.  I've heard people talk about the preganancy "glow" and I call BS on that one.  I'm not so sure what's "glowing" about the overwhelming urge to fall asleep anywhere you can find, the urge to vomit most of the day or your normal clothes not fitting correctly.   If you really must see evidence of this pregnancy, you'll have to come visit and see it in person as there will be no photographic evidence.

And by the way, it's a boy :)

The Ice Cream Cone Test

I love junk food.  Cookies, cupcakes, chocolate - but more than anything, I love ice cream.  I'm not sure when this love affair started.  Maybe in college.  My first roommate Heather, used to always eat a scoop of ice cream in the evenings out of a coffee cup.  Maybe we ran out of bowls, who knows.  I never asked her why she used a coffee cup or why I even remember that.....  Then while living in Tampa, TB and I literally lived around the corner from a Marble Slab.  It was heaven.  I'd drag him over there almost nightly.  I'd happily order up my concoction and TB would always order something - but seem unimpressed.  One of TB's major faults is that he is not a dessert person.  But I've gradually worn him down and I now catch him stocking up our grocery cart with ice cream - even without a subtle suggestion by me.

While TB and I were recently in an airport waiting on a connecting flight, he disappeared and came back with a surprise.  A large waffle cone with chocolate ice cream. Yummy! 

Like a greedy 4 year old, I reached out to snatch it out of his hands..... just as he was taking a big bite out of the side of my ice cream cone.   What????!!!!  A mouthful of my ice cream and my cone - all at once.   At that moment I realized two things:

1.  He bought the ice cream cone for us to share.
2.  He had just ruined it.

Now, I will admit that it was a slighly selfish thought to think this whole thing was for me.  I'm willing to share.  And I quickly conceeded that point.  But only that point.   He still ruined the ice cream cone. 

Everyone knows there's a proper way to eat an ice cream cone.  I mean we've all seen that messy kid that lets the ice cream get away from him and seems oblivious to it dripping all over his arm and clothes while he's eagerly chowing down.  Picture that in a grown man and you know what I experienced in that airport.

After his huge bite of our shared cone, I weighed my options.  I was willing to share, but that thought was based on a non-ruined ice cream cone.  Am I allowed not to share, if he ruined it?  Do I go buy my own?  Or do I still make an attempt to share?

As these thoughts are quickly running through my head, TB holds out his chocolate dripping hand to pass me the cone.  I hesitantly took the cone for my turn.  Seeing the gaping hole in the side of the cone, I had to take preventative measures and clean up his mess by licking up all the impending drips.   Which meant, I didn't get to eat any of the cone.  The best part. In the corner of my eye, I can see him working his way through a mountain of napkins attempting to quickly clean up the chocolate drippage before his next turn.   On his next turn and much to my horror, he takes another big bite of cone/ice cream and hands it back to me.  Again.  Preventative measures.  This back and forth went on for a few turns and then TB asks an interesting question.

"Oh.  I didn't know you don't like waffle cones.  Why aren't you eating any of the cone?"

Really.  The nerve.

I had to explain that because of his reckless eating style that I had to use my turns to make sure we didn't end up looking like 4 year olds with ice cream from head to toe and I just never had a chance to eat the cone.

After a thoughtful, "Hmmm." TB made an interesting observation.  He said, "I think the way we each eat the ice cream cone reflects our personalities."

Now that's a thought. 

TB dove in head first when he saw something he liked, without regard for the consequences.  He would fix those later, and maybe it didn't matter in the grand sceme of things if he ended up with ice cream all over the place.  At least he enjoyed the best part of the ice cream cone.

I took a step back and looked at the ice cream cone as a whole and came up with a plan.  Eat the ice cream at the top first since it has the potential to make a mess.  Then, when it's perfectly eaten and safe, it's OK to go for the ice cream cone.  All the while, monitoring the ice cream and it's potential for mess creation.

Is it a scientifically sound study?  Probably not.  But I think it does hold a bit of truth in our situation.

Conclusion:  Me.  Slightly neurotic.  Him.  Slightly less neurotic.

2011: In Review

When 2011 began, I made a few resolutions, wrote them down and left them in my planner/notebook.  If you know me - I live and die by my planner, so I saw those resolutions almost every day.  You would think that would mean I was successful in keeping those resolutions. Well.  Let's do a little review to see how I did...


1.  Take tennis lessons:   FAIL
I have no excuse.  There's a big tennis complex about a mile down the road from our house.  They offer lessons on a monthly cycle.  I just never signed up.


2.  Run a 1/2 marathon:  SUCCESS

This was probably the hardest resolution I made in 2011 and somehow managed to achieve it towards the beginning of the year.  If you missed it, you can find the deets here.  All in all, it was a grand time and I'm planning on signing up for another one soon and hope to beat my time. 


3.  Take cooking classes:  FAIL

I'm ashamed to admit that I put minimal effort into this one....... I checked out some classes online and then...... that was about it.  I have no excuse.

4.  Take a wine class:  FAIL

Ummmmm.  Same as above.


5.  Learn to knit:  FAIL

This one is definitely a fail, but I'm going to make a few excuses this time.  I found a class which met  every Saturday for a month.  Our travel schedule was absolutely crazy this past year - so it took most of the year to find a month were I was actually home four Saturdays in a row.  And then a week before my first class, it was cancelled.  It seems I was the only one signed up for the class....... I suppose there isn't much interest in knitting classes.  My spirits were a bit dampened after the cancellation - so I never looked for another place.  Excuses excuses.

6.  Recycle:  FAIL

Still a fail, but I did print out the county's application for recycling boxes.  Just never quite mailed it in with the check.  Seriously - you can't do this online?

All in all, I'm proud of my one success story here, but a little embarrassed I didn't put much effort into a few of them.  I'm still working through my resolutions for 2012, but a few of these might carry over.  We'll see.

Here's to a happy and successful 2012!

Christmas Decorating. With Shoes On.

TB likes to say that I grew up without shoes.  While that is definitely a bit of an exaggeration, I did grow up in a small town.  And I'm talking small.  A few hundred people.  A two-way stop as there was no need for a four way stop.  One police man.  A post office.  A town maintenance man named after a cut of beef.  And that's about it.  I grew up not knowing how the flag on a mail box worked - since there was no mail delivery.  I had no idea until I left for college, that you could get pizza delivered to your home, since the the delivery drivers wouldn't come out as far as we lived.  While I've since moved on to bigger towns and cities, there are still some things that I can't quite get a handle on.  As I recently found out, by the stark difference in picking out a Christmas tree in small town USA versus Atlanta.

There was no black Friday shopping at the mall growing up.  We reserved that day for something a little more special.  Every year on the day after Thanksgiving we would all head out to the Christmas tree farm to pick out that year's tree.  Aside from the turkey, it was the most exciting thing about the Thanksgiving weekend.  On the main highway (if you could call it a highway) going through town, there was a small sign indicating where to turn for the farm.  Way back in a corner of a cow pasture, behind a small farmhouse you could see a patch of Christmas trees.  No need for us to pull up to the farmhouse - we were regulars.  There was a gate of sorts to get into the pasture - so one of us would always jump out of the truck, unlatch the gate and we'd drive through the pasture (avoiding the cows of course) and head straight to the patch of trees.  All three of us would jump out and try to find the best tree - it was always a competition of sorts to see who could find the tree that made it home with us.  At some point during the process, a rickety old truck would come driving through the pasture and the tree farmer would get out with his handsaw.  The tree farmer was the grandfather of my brother's classmate, so we definitely had a tie to him - but it didn't matter, he always remembered us.  He helped us cut the tree down and my dad would ask, "How much?".  In 18 years, the price never changed.  $20.  My parents tell me the price still hasn't changed to this day.

Flash forward 10+ years to Big John's Christmas trees located down the road from the TB house.  Similar to the farm from my childhood, Big John's is located just off the main highway.  Except this is a real highway.  And no cow pasture.  Big John's is set up in the Kroger parking lot with a full out cash register  and pre-chopped trees.  Shipped all the way to us in the big city from small town South Carolina. The selection and ambiance weren't quite the same as I was used to, but we did select a mighty fine looking tree - no saw needed here.  While this "tree farmer" hasn't known us for 20 years, he seemed nice enough and said he'd help us tie it to the car (no truck owners in this family).  I was curiously watching how this would happen, since I wasn't exactly sure how this worked.  How does one tie a tree to a car without messing up the tree?  To my horror, the tree man ran the tree through a netting machine of sorts which bundled the tree up into a tight little package.  TB assured me that our carefully picked tree would snap back into place as soon as we got it home and cut the wrapping off.  I reluctantly agreed not to make a scene since no one else seemed to have a problem with the tree wrapping method.  We were then directed to the cash register and asked if we had a coupon.  A coupon?  For a tree?  Seemed like a weird question to me - why would we need a coupon for a $20 tree?  Well.  Perhaps when your tree isn't $20.  I'm ashamed to admit how much we paid for the tree at Big John's - we'll just leave it at NOT $20.

During this whole process, I kept comparing my childhood Christmas tree buying experience with this year's and TB didn't quite understand my being perplexed by the whole process.  All he could say is, "Well.  You did grow up without shoes."  Hmmm.  Interesting point.  I guess this is how people with shoes buy trees.  I suppose I'd better get used to it.  I like my shoes.

The "wrapped" up tree

The "unwrapped tree"

The Coincidence of All Coincidences. In a Bad Way.

A very bad way. 

We recently scheduled a dinner date with another couple who also likes to eat good food.  It was our turn to pick the restaurant and there was one that I had been really wanting to check out.  So I went ahead and made the reservation at the restaurant.  The restaurant that will not be named. 

Our evening started out just fine, we were seated right away, drinks were ordered, appetizers ordered - and then it all went downhill.  Downhill in a way where we crashed and burned at the bottom on the hill.  And then exploded.

As we were enjoying our tasty looking appetizer of the "cheese plate", TB decided to tell the story of a recent episode of Andrew Zimmern "Bizarre Foods".  The episode was about Andrew visiting a city in Italy that makes this special cheese in which maggots live in the cheese.  For real.  Maggots in cheese.  You open up the wheel of cheese and just eat around the maggots.......   You really must click on the "Maggot Cheese" link below and watch the video before you continue reading this.  Really.  You should watch this.  Go ahead.  Click.

Maggot Cheese

Done?  Story continued below....

As TB was just beginning to recap the video above, we saw a horrified look on our dinner mate's face.  He had just sliced into a piece of cheese, was about to place it on a cracker and noticed something moving.  Something small.  And white.  Maggot.  IN THE CHEESE.  No kidding.  Imagine seeing that video above happen right before your eyes.

A live maggot.  Wiggling in the cheese at the restaurant not to be named.

Long story short - our meal was free.  The restaurant was horrified.  Probably not as horrified as we were - but still horrified.  We lost our appetites.  And got out as quickly as possible.  And will not be back to that place.  Ever.

Worst dining experience ever. Bring on the hair in the soup, the bug in the salad and the finger in the beans. I can top it. Maggot. In. The. Cheese.

Maggots in the cheese.  While telling a story about maggots in cheese.  How weird is that?