Stop whining and find something to do.

I am pretty into Downton Abbey. A few months ago, a girl in my neighborhood announced that she had a way to view season 3, even though it didn't start airing in the US until this month. I figured I would wedge my way into this social group and quickly watch the first two seasons so I could watch season 3 with the neighborhood ladies.

I loved it from the start, and adore Maggie Smith's character. Her zingers seriously make my day. In last night's, Edith was moping (won't tell you why, in case you haven't seen it yet) yet again, and Violet said:

You are a woman with a brain and reasonable ability. Stop whining and find something to do.

Amen. I think she would have said something similar to the Drops of Awesome lady, before her revelation that she isn't a loser. Stop whining!

I guess I have officially become my parents, because I can hear them in my head when I say, stop whining!

It isn't so bad. We can do more than we think we can. We need to stop whining. I think I'll tape this to my mirror.

And now, mysteries of the human condition.

Pinterest, guys. I feel like it has taken the blog copy-cat decor movement and given it a seven Tour de France winning (too soon?) injection of mimic-enhancing power. Before Pinterest, you might see something familiar on a blog, but you probably wouldn't be able to remember the source, and it was easy to give the person the benefit of the doubt. Like, that blogger schemed up the idea on her own, but maybe that other one did, too.

Like inspiration in clusters to ensure that a good idea reaches critical mass. Providence maybe is thinking, "OK, if I tell her to paint her pantry door a bright color but then her blog doesn't have the correct SEO to really get the idea out there...oh screw it, I'll just tell seven bloggers to paint their pantry door a bright color."

But then we got Pinterest, and well, that is no longer necessary. A good idea gets pinned one time, and before you know it, it's mainstream and maybe even a little passe.

So the deep thought is, who are we really copying? If I have a gallery wall, and 10 people I know have gallery walls, but gallery walls are also big on Pinterest, can I say that I'm copying Pinterest and not my friend? And if I got the idea to do a gallery wall without seeing anyone else's house or ever seeing it online, am I really inventing the concept?

In the Internet age, I don't know what originality is or if it even counts anymore.

And if I am copying a bunch of people, does it really matter? When people copy things I do, it makes me feel awesome.

So I guess what I'm saying is, if I copy you on something, just follow the admonition of Neil Patrick Harris:

"When I get sad, I stop being sad and be awesome instead. True story."

Burning questions.

So if you didn't already know, we are having another baby.

We had a heck of a time naming Jameson. Stress over naming your child is so not what a new, jiggly, emotional, exhausted mother needs. Maybe I'll tell you the story sometime.

So we have vowed to have this child named well before he or she is born. Just get it over with, taken care of an agreed upon, so I can worry about other things while I'm sitting blankly trying to decide what to eat for lunch and wondering how on earth I'm going to be responsible for two kids.

Incidentally, we have had our girl name chosen since well before Jameson was born. If we have a girl, that will be very convenient for us, in the naming department.

However, this pregnancy so far has been so similar to my pregnancy with Jameson, I am sort of just planning on it being a boy until I hear otherwise. I have been scouring baby name websites. Most names I suggest just make my husband crinkle his nose and say, "I guess I don't hate it, but..."

Anyway, my favorite boy name when we were expecting Jameson was Gunnar. I just think it is such a cool name. But then I think...does it make people think "gunman?" Does it sound kind of redneck? Like if this child ends up moving somewhere urban and getting a classy job, will his name make him out of place?

So I like it, but I have been scared to commit.

So I made a poll. Feel free to take it. I am so interested in feedback on this. To me, the name sounds well-traveled and mysterious, but that might translate to "weirdo who eats lunch alone" in middle school.

The thing is, you can make fun of pretty much any name, especially when the person you're making fun of has any sort of flaw or quirk. So yeah, any name. I know I can't escape the name getting made fun of, but I would like to avoid it as much as possible.

Can you tell I just love having something to stew over?

Everything old is new again.

I believe with my whole soul that I got my fill of Jack "Banana Pancakes" Johnson in college. I still have four or five of his albums on my iTunes, like a hidden monument to the singer-songwriter movement that hit the mainstream and made college-types feel super fulfilled and also a little put out that their music had hit a regular rotation on the listen while you work stations, forcing them to find yet another unique genre.

But this weekend at Costco, we were looking through the books and movies (only because my husband was there. Costco to him is still a novelty and not yet something one must simply endure), and we found a combo DVD pack of Curious George AND Curious George 2 for $8.99. We showed them to Jam Sesh and his face lit up like a Christmas tree. So we bought them.

Did you know that Jack Johnson music runs throughout the first film? I haven't watched the second, but I fear I may find the same there. It's also worth noting that I have never seen anything hold my child's attention the way this movie does. He's one, so he normally has the attention span of a gnat, but to my surprise he has been sitting on the couch with his blankie and his thumb for at least thirty minutes and appears totally at ease.

So Jack and I are getting re-acquainted. I hope that we can rekindle that loving feeling. Maybe it's like how after 1997 no one could listen to "My Heart Could Go On" one more possible time, and then last year Jessica Sanchez sings it on American Idol and suddenly it's a good song again.

We shall see.

Also, I think David Cross is the villain, which is pretty cool.

P.S. Google just told me that they had seen some suspicious activity on my account. I think my blogging twice in a week really threw them for a loop. But if you did get spam from me...sorry.

We're going to have two of these.

This morning was a wild one. Peeling myself out of bed with all the first trimester energy I could muster to get Jam Master J out of bed and give him his bottle. Him whining the whole time I pour, heat, assemble, shake and walk to the couch. I let him play for a while while I lay on the couch, trying to convince myself that this is a GOOD day and I can DO this! I make him breakfast and come back to find that he has rubbed buttered toast all over his hair.

We're going to have two of these. Breathe in, breathe out.

This kid understands the value of a deep conditioning treatment. You are never too young for hard-core moisturizers.

So we go up for bath time. This is where the story gets a little mommy TMI. He pees on the bathroom floor while the water is running, then does the other one in the water while I'm washing him. Oye.

We're going to have two of these. Breathe in, breathe out.

Once all THAT was cleaned up, we went back downstairs so I could get myself together. You know, maybe unload the dishwasher, check my email, etc.

That's when I hear him in the closet, which I thought was locked, clanking together two ceramic vases and chewing on a button.

We're going to have two of these. Breathe in, breathe out.

None of this stuff is really out of the ordinary for a standard day, but let's remember it's not yet 9:00am. I decided that the only rational thing for me to do was to strap that kid into a five-point harness and invent some errands.

Don't ask me if I had gotten dressed yet or brushed my teeth or hair. We were out.

I remembered I needed to go to the bank. Oh thank heaven I have to go to the bank! Let's go.

And our teller's name was Pebbles. I'm not kidding. When I gave her the check and deposit slip, she said, "I'm Pebbles. I'll have this right out." I hadn't remembered mommy brain making me hear things before so I checked out her name tag, and her name was indeed Pebbles.

I don't think Pebbles or her parents are reading this, but I have to say, this is a very unusual name for a human and I really wonder what the story is there. She looked too young to have parents who were flower children, so that's out.

It actually reminded me of this past week's Mindy Project episode, which was not the funniest, but there was that conversation about rocks, stones and pebbles that prompted Mindy to say, "I don't know, I'm not an expert on sediments and geology!"

By the time I'd been through a drive-through for an icy drink and come back home, taking the long way, the J Man was asleep and miracle of miracles, he transferred to his bed well and has been sleeping for almost an hour.

I think I'll shower.