10.30.2009

Kids Don't Float, Beer Cans Do Though

I am lucky to be alive. Well, we are all lucky to be alive. Especially with all the drunk drivers and psycho's running around. Oh, and my mother.

The majority of my serious injuries have been dolled out by my mother. Though I have never broken a bone I have suffered a few concussions. Holy crap, stop freaking out! She wasn't abusive, well, not on purpose anyway. She's probably reading this right now and I can bet you a dollar that the word asshole has come out of her mouth....right...about...now. Hi momma. Sorry momma.

So, let's run down the list shall we.

While at a company picnic for her employer all of the kids were outside playing soccer (i.e. mindlessly kicking the soccer ball, we're from Lousianan, we don't play soccer). Someone kicked the ball into one of the efficiency buildings, these are aluminum and are on wheels so they are about 3 or 4 steps up. I of course being super helpful and cute run up the 3 wooden steps and step into open doorway, just as my mother was raring her leg back to kick that ball all the way to sweet heaven. Right? Because we were only like 10 feet outside the building, she wanted that ball to go places. All I see is blur of black and white and BAM right in the face. I woke up on the hood of someones car with everyone staring down at me. "She's fine" someone yells and back to the BBQ they went.

Next, swimming in the lake. We were having a grand time, that is until momma lost her footing and decided to use her 5-year old daughter as a life saving device. Kids don't float lady, especially if you are continuously pushing them under water. I wouldn't let her near me even in the bathtub for months. I quickly learned to wash my own hair.

Once my daddy was leaving for work so I ran outside to tell him goodbye and while running back to the house I tripped on one of those concrete stepping stones and was knocked the fuck out. Now, this one isn't directly her fault but I'm sure she said something like "Hurry your ass up", so basically she pushed me down.

Playing softball, I always refused to pitch while she was at bat because I could never catch her line drives at my head. After being called a pussy I reluctantly pitched to her. BAM. Well, yeah, you know what happened.

There are many others that I can't remember, we'll blame the concussions.

Why am I telling you all of this? Well, because I have a daughter now and after poking her in the eye this morning I realized, it's the circle of life and this kid has no idea the amount of concussions she is due for.



10.29.2009

Who Do I Look Like?

After not so much searching we found Madison a halloween costume. She wants to be a vampire. I just took the easy way out and bought the "costume-in-a-bag" version. Give me a break, I'm making a person here!

Amazingly enough we got it home and it didn't hang off her limbs like a trash sack, it actually fit, it didn't drag the floor either. Like I said, amazing. So, it's a vampire costume. Black dress, long red hangy things from the sleeves, a weird dracula collar that sticks up all around. You get the picture, vampire. Vampire.

Madison: (dancing in circles) Who do I look like?

Me: Um, a vampire.

Madison: No, now, like with this on like this. Who do I look like?

Me: Vampire?

Madison: With the collar down like this. (dancing side to side now) Who do I look like?

Me: (searching for whatever the hell the right answer is so that this back and forth can cease) Princess?

Madison: Which one?

Me: Oh my God. Snow White? (praying that this is the correct answer)

Madison: (dancing, humming)

She never did confirm if I was correct. Either way, vampire.

Right?



10.27.2009

Gonna Burn This Mother Down

I haven't posted this weekend because I jacked my neck all up by sleeping the wrong way I guess. I'm assuming that "wrong" way would be the way that I am forced to sleep due to my ever expanding abdomen. Now that I am upright I can fill you in on my Sunday. In case you didn't already know this I love Sundays. I would love them more if it meant I didn't have to work on Monday but I deal.

Babies 'r' Us ruined my Sunday. Wait, ruined isn't the right word. They murdered my Sunday. They took on the identity of one of those sexual psycopathic sadists that are always being portrayed on Criminal Minds and totally fucked my Sunday all up.

Let me back up so you can get the entire picture, before it became all bloody with the ruining murder.

I registered for my baby shower at Babies 'r' Us. It's one of the only places to register here and it seems logical. Babies R Us. They are babies, they deal in the needs of babies and all things baby related. Makes sense right? So, I registered for all this stuff that we/the baby needs and I was told that I would get 10% off to complete my registry after my shower. Great, because you hardly get everything from your registry. I was also told that if my coupon didn't come in the mail that I could just come in and they would give me one.
So, Sunday I was going to take the time to spend the money that we don't have and get the rest of the stuff we need since if I don't the baby will come early demanding his bouncy chair, where the hell is my bouncy chair! I started grabbing things, couldn't find half of it, they didn't have most of it so I just made do and grabbed what I could. The last thing I needed was the carseat/stroller.

Well, they don't carry the one we registered for anymore. In fact they didn't even have anything that I would want my dog to ride in much less my kid. FINE. Whatever. So, I see the lady at the registry counter has finally decided to show up and I ask her about my 10% off. She asks "When are you due?" Um, November 29th. "Okay, you'll get your coupon two weeks after that."

...,...,...

"We need this stuff now, not two weeks after he shows up demanding his fucking bouncy chair, and by the way this is not the carseat that I wanted."

She says sorry that's the policy. Sorry, that's the policy. Sorry. That's the policy.

Believe it or not I just turned and walked away. My neck was killing me, my feet felt like they were bleeding into my shoes, good friend sciatica showed up, I had to pee again, kids were screaming, people were in my way, and my eye started to twitch. I checked out at the front and I let them know that I would not be returning to their lovely store to be murdered ever again and as I walked out of the door I said "suck it", because I'm gangster like that.

After that experience I was forced to go to...Burlington Coat Factory's Baby Depot. This may be a pleasant experience in your town but not here. Here, they put the carts in the center of the store so you have to hunt for them and the cashiers are always in-training. I got my shit, found a carseat/stroller I could deal with and got to the check-out stand.

You know what's coming. Of course the last item in my basket didn't have the Burlington price sticker on it. It had a UPC but the sku lookup system was down so she couldn't look it up on her computer. This last item, what was it? So, she pages for someone from Baby Depot, do they call her to see what's up? No, they walk ALL THE WAY up to her check out stand. Then that person didn't know what to do so she called someone else to give her the item number. Do they tell her the item number over the phone? No, they walk ALL THE WAY up to her check out stand. After 25 minutes of this I was able to leave this nightmare and continue on with the regular nightmare that is life.

Oh, what item was it that didn't have the fancy Burlington price tag? You really want to know?

The fucking bouncy chair, so help me this kid is going to live in that thing.



Lost It.

All of it.

After peeing every 15 minutes all day I ended up a bawling mess on the toilet last night. When Joe asked what was wrong all I could say was "The pee! All of the pee!"

Then, at midnight when I hoisted my fat ass out of bed to visit the toilet he asked "Where are you going?"

Grasping at every rational response I could think of I replied:

"WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK I'M GOING?"

Joe: "I'm sorry."



A Sight For...Well, Not For the Weak That's For Damn Sure

Considering now that I am 89 35 weeks pregnant...well, nothing. I'm 35 weeks pregnant, it's getting close and it's going faster than all the weeks previous that's for sure because on Sunday I will be 36weeks pregnant, and then I will be 36 weeks pregnant and then...well, you get the idea.

The point is I have to pee. I have to pee, all of the time. All. The. Time. Right now as a matter of fact. I can go pee, pick up Madison from school (10 seconds away), pee at her school, go home and have to pee again. I see more of the bathroom in any given day than any other room in my house or office.

This of course carries on in to the night. Please picture this with me. Eyes shoot open, groan, roll over to the edge of the bed (this takes about an hour), fling myself into a sitting position (I'm certain that this is how the baby will arrive, I will be flinging myself up and the kid is going to shoot out like a cannon, I will still have to pee), signal the workers to bring the crane over to hoist me out of bed, stumble in the dark to the bathroom, break a toe, get into the bathroom, pee, don't bother flushing I'll be back in an hour, catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and let out a shriek because I look like a lunatic (my hair is jumbled into a crazy mess, my tshirt is above my belly, sweatpants are sagging, dried drool, red eyes), stumble back to the bed, break another toe, lay down, stare at clock, repeat at 12, 2, 4, and 6am.

No, I do not drink a gallon of water right before bed. I'm convinced that when I'm asleep my husband hooks me up to a saline drip. You know, because it's funny.


10.20.2009

He's Got Skillz

Last night I was talking with the dear husband about our weekend plans. We have a friend coming over on Friday night and he is bringing his new girl. We'll call him R, you know because I'm sure he doesn't want me talking about his love of alcohol, XBox, Battlestar Galactica and his lack of any dance skill on the inter-tubes. So, I guess I will be meeting this new girl on Friday. Since I am pregnant I will not be able to drink to numb the awkwardness that is having a stranger in my house, I'll survive. They may not, but I'm pretty sure that I will.

So, Joe has never met this person he's only heard what R has told him about. He begins filling me in on all of her interests and attributes: she's short (good because R is about 4'9", okay maybe 5'), she's outdoorsy, likes to hike and whatnot, she has a daughter, she likes to play hackey sack, she....

What?

Hackey sack, she likes hackey sack.

How is that something to list on a get to know you list? Hackey sack? Good God.

I like hackey sack, why do you have to shit on everything I do?

Um, we've been together 6 years and I've never seen you play hackey sack. So, I'm hardly shitting on everything you do.

I have a hackey sack in my truck.

And?

Well, this conversation went on waaaaaay too long and was highy focused on how could I not like hackey sack. What is wrong with hackey sack? Why don't you like it? You just aren't coordinated enough to play that's why you don't like it.

True. If I ever did try to play I would inevitably kick myself in the head and the person next to me in the balls. I've also seen enough adolescent boys play this ridiculous "game" in a circle that I know that I wouldn't enjoy it. I'd rather play 4-square, now that's a game.

This converastion ended with me saying that if he ever did play hackey sack in the yard I would take that ball and throw it over the fence.

Joe: Blink...blink...IT'S NOT A BALL!

Me: Falling off the bed in hysterics.



10.19.2009

Glutton...For Punishment

I consider myself to be an intelligent person. I have common sense. You can disagree all you want. At least I know which side of the parking lot aisle to drive on and I also know that in a store that is about 20 acres in size having more than one bathroom just might be a good idea.

If I am intelligent, if I do have this common sense that everyone is going on about, if so, then why, why, just why the hell did I of my own free will choose to go to a Costco Warehouse of a Saturday afternoon?

Why, Lord, why do I do these things to myself?

It was a normal Saturday, I had a few errands to do, drop off my wedding ring to be cleaned and dipped, pick up the crib, have lunch with Morgan and pick up some stuff at...Costco. Sounded good to me, I was husband and child free and I was glad to be out of the house. All went well until I pulled into the parking lot of...Costco.

First of all, what is it about this place that scrambles the minds of normally competent drivers? People were driving on the wrong sides of the aisle, running through the stop signs, parking in places that obviously weren't parking spots. I spent the whole time in the parking lot screaming at everyone around me. I'm sure I looked like a lunatic pulling my hair and waving my hands at strangers but at least I was following the correct traffic patterns.

Now, I get in the store, after getting the LAST cart. Literally. The. Last. Cart. If there had been no carts I would have left right then. Me, being ever so smart decide that I should go pee now so I can shop and not have to stop and run to the bathroom. You know, because Costco only has the one bathroom, at the front of the store with the back of the store being 2 miles away. Also, because I am 33 months pregnant and have a toddler resting on my bladder.

I then begin my shopping experience. Not so bad at first, typical people cutting in front of you at the last minute, little old lady walking so very slowly across your path, lady stopping in front of you to reposition her cart, then back up, then go forward, then go sideways, then back up, well you get the picture. I'm headed to the back of the store because that is where I start my shopping, I like to work my way to the front, toward the check-out stands. As soon as I get to the back I realize, I have to pee. "Hold it!" I tell myself. Yeah, that only lasted for about 3 aisles, by then I was in so much pain that I was practically hunched over trying to make it back to the front of the store to go pee, again. Of course, this little old lady chooses the precise moment when I can see the bathroom, it's in my reach, to walk across my path at a glacial pace. I finally make it to the bathroom, phew.

Continuing my shopping, I go back to the aisle I left off, I believe it was cereal, and here I go. Same old, same old. Kids are screaming, a little girl is literally bouncing from side to side down the aisle and I had visions of just maybe letting my foot slip out a little bit to make contact with her leg. You know, just to slow her down. I figured it best that I get the hell out of that aisle. I'm almost done! I only need a few more things. My back is killing me, the blister on my left foot I'm sure is bleeding into my shoe, my right ankle is probably bruised and swollen, oh, I didn't mention that I twisted my ankle earlier in the day? Then the realization thing happens again...pee. PEE! I need to pee again! I cannot hold it this time, I have to go NOW. So, I head on up there and lo and fucking behold there is that little old lady again. How the hell does she find me?

While peeing I actually prayed that someone would steal my cart so I could just give up and go home. No such luck. I limp along and grab the last of what was on my list, this list that I forgot in the car, this list that I am now shopping from by memory. Yeah, that one.

I am d-o-n-e! I head to the check out and by some miracle I was not stuck in a super long line, I quickly unloaded my cart and waddled myself up to the credit card machine to pay my fortune for frozen food and canisters of Kool-Aid.

I'm pushing my cart out the door and I'm actually thinking to myself, "wow, I made it and I didn't even kill a single person". Walking to my car I notice a man walking behind me. Not like, a few feet behind me but right behind me. Like, if I were to stop he would get swallowed up in my ass. Right as I was about to turn around and tell him to back the hell up he veered off and went another way. He'll never know how lucky he is.

I get to my car, loading everything up and oh, what's that? THAT IS HOTDOG JUICE. Hotdog juice spraying out of the package that has been punctured. Perfect.

Please picture this with me. Very pregnant lady, covered in hotdog juice (shut up), screaming at said package of hotdogs, throwing hotdogs in the bag, loading bags with huge bulky groceries, every corner of every box getting hung up on every possible thing, woman screaming at everything happening, tufts of hair and drool flying about.

This ladies and gentleman was my Saturday.



10.16.2009

Call Now!

My daughter is a very literal person. If you say that someone is green with envy she will demand to see this green person and she needs to know what's going on and now! I shouldn't have been surprised when she started paying attention to infomercials and using their propaganda as gospel.


Me: Taking a shower, trying to get a few seconds of peace so I can wash my hair and maybe, just maybe  shave my legs...or not.

Madison: Frantic knocking on the bathroom door, words that I cannot understand.

Me: "What?"

Madison: "Phone.......Call.......Hurry......."

Me: "Is someone on the phone? I'll call them back, I'm in the SHOWER!"

Madison: "Hurry.....Now....Time......."

Me: Getting out of the shower, legs unshaven (whatever, it wasn't going to happen anyway), gets dressed and proceeds to the living room to answer or return this very important call
"Who is it Madison?"

Madison: "Debbie Meyer!"

Me: "Who?"

Madison: "Momma! We need Debbie Meyer's Green Bags! We have to call now, they said to call now and we get the Green Bags and then extra Green Bags! We need them so our vegetables don't go bad and soggy. We have to call now!"

Me: "No more TV."

Thank God she didn't know where the credit card was or we would be knee deep in green bags.



10.15.2009

Yes. Yes, I did.

Operator: "Last name please."

Me: "Wolf. W-o-l-f."

Operator: "Did you say W-o-o-f."

Me: "Yes."



Great Balls of Fire

If you had a super power what would it be? I cannot count how many times I have been asked that in my life. Why do people always ask that? It's like asking, "For a million dollars would you eat that turd?". Well, do you have a million dollars to give me? So, if I say I want to fly will you be able to grant me that power?

Didn't think so.

I never had an answer to this question that I was happy with. I hate heights and I'm a klutz, why would I trust myself as a human dart? There's super strength I guess, but that never really satisfied me. Invisibility would be cool I guess, I could hang out and listen in on people or hide from bad guys. Laser vision, what would I do with that? Sometimes I would answer that I would like super speed because I'm super impatient and would just like to get to wherever the hell I was going but then again, I am trusting myself not to plow through a concrete wall. It would be inevitable.

After a post that I made recently about my pregnancy anger and how things seem to set me ablaze I finally have my super power answer. I would like pyrokinetic abilities.

Yes. This is it. Except it's not so much the setting fire to objects like Drew Barrymore in Firestarter. I would like to burst into flames like Liz Sherman of Hellboy. Compared to all of the other lousy strengths this one seems to be beneficial to me.

Not only will be able to deter villains but I can also light the campfire. Handy. The main purpose I believe that it could serve would be to warn other of my mood. A lot of the times husbands have no clue that their wives are mad, ignoring the slamming of doors and dishes, looking past the items being thrown at their skulls. With this strength there will be no question that shit is about to go down and you, you there, husband with the remote acting like nothing is wrong, you better back the fuck up.



10.13.2009

Conversations With Momma

My momma has been one of my best friends for a long time now. Skip over the hellacious teen years though, her description of me for that time was plain and simple.

"You were an asshole."

I will go into more detail about Momma in a post coming soon. I just have to get this small one out because it has made my day, no wait, made my life. She has struggled with her weight for a long time and has recently been told by her physician that she HAS to lose the excess weight for her health. She's been working really hard for the past month or two and is eating right and doing all the right stuff. I am really excited for her. Here is a sample of our conversation today.

Momma: "I'm ###! I haven't been under ### in a long time." (What? You thought I would broadcast a woman's weight all across the intertubes? I'm not rude. Also, I want to live.)

Me: "I know! I am so excited for you!"

Momma: "No you're not. You want me to die."

Me: Peeing my pants, hysterical laughter.

Her: Most certain that she has also peed her pants, hysterical laughter.

The things that woman says.

I love her so much.


10.07.2009

Yes, Please Do That

Please, please I am begging you! This is what I want you to do:

In the morning, when I am really irritable and I'm trying to get myself ready and a 5-year old, I want you to gobble up all of your dog food as loud as you can. Yes, as LOUDLY as you can. THEN, don't forget to do this part! Then I want you to walk to the bathroom where I am and stand next to me and smack your mouth! Smack it like your life depends on it, just really work that tongue all around your mouth and make as much mouth-smacking noise as possible.

Because I love it when you do that exact thing.


50 Percent of the Time I Am Wrong 9 Times Out of Ten

Typical conversation featuring Madison and me the wrong one.

Me: **Words**

Madison: What did you say?

Me: **Same Words**

Madison: NO! The other thing.

Me: I didn't say anything else, I only said **Same Words Again**

Madison: *slaps herself on the forehead because her mother is d-u-m-b.*

--

Madison: How does that song go?

Me: **Singing the line or humming the tune, correctly by the way**

Madison: NO! That's not it!

Me: Okay, I don't know then.

Madison: *slaps herself on the forehead because her mother is d-u-m-b.*



10.06.2009

Go Here.

Thinking of gaining weight? Want to get grossed out so you don't get up and get that second helping of cheeseburger pie?

This Is Why I'm You're Fat.

Click it. Do it. Now.


Spontaneous Abdominal Combustion, I Don't Have It

I have been having a pain in my stomach. A real pain, like "ouch, that really fucking hurts" pain. I lay awake at night and think of all of the terrible things that could be wrong. My uterus has torn open and the baby is playing with my intestines. I have a blockage in my stomach and it is slowly growing and will soon explode, leaking toxins into my abdominal cavity. I have a blood clot the size of a sweet potato that will soon break loose. In any of these instance I'm pretty much dead so you can just imagine how well I sleep at night.

I also wake up in the night and my chest hurts when I breathe, which of course means I have a blood clot in my lungs. Of course, now I will just lay back down and get some more rest.

At my appointment today I mention all of these things because that is what you are supposed to do. You are supposed to sit in front of a professional and tell her all of these things that are going on with your ever expanding body and try not to sound like a psychopath. The doctor nods and smiles and lets me know that these "pains" are just a normal part of pregnancy. A normal part of pregnancy. Normal. There is no "normal" when you are pregnant, every pregnancy is different and every person is different. I may have said this before but in case you didn't retain that little piece of information, there you go. You're welcome.

So, I don't have a free-floating baby in my abdomen, my stomach is not on the verge of combustion and my lungs are free of clots.

Also, she said that I should only gain about 10 more pounds.

I don't know about you, but that sounds like a dare. I'm going to gain 11 just to show her.


Walking out of the doctor's office I noticed a numb area on my left leg. Great. I'm going to be an amputee.

10.02.2009

I Have To Do What?

I am 31 weeks pregnant this week. When I was 8 weeks pregnant I thought that time was creeping by but now that I'm this far it seems that it has flown by. This pregnancy has not been without its fair share of annoyances.
  • Raging hormones
  • Acne that only a pregnant woman can understand
  • All-day sickness
  • Sciatic nerve pain that at any moment could send a person to their knees
  • Heartburn
  • Barely controllable urge to claw out my own eyes as well as anyone within a 5 foot vicinity
  • Gas, oh come on, like you didn't see that one coming
I understand that these can be considered mild compared to what some women go through, but I'm going through these so that makes them the worst. See how that works? I also have "something wrong with my stomach". That's what the doctor said. Seems pretty broad to me. I just know that it hurts in the one spot really really bad. She also told me to try and stay away from foods that gave me heartburn...

Breathing air gives me heartburn. I think she's trying to kill me.

This being my second child I thought that I would know what to expect. I was wrong, yes I can admit when I am wrong. I can also admit when you are wrong and I am very right, rub it in your face and then have a shirt made that says "I am right and you are wrong" and wear it everytime we are together.

That being said, you never know what to expect. Every pregnancy is different. I also have heard that every labor and delivery is different. I let Joe know that we are due in less than 2 months and that maybe he should get around to browsing through the labor and delivery section of our "What To Expect.." book. He tells me that since it's my second time that's what he has me for. I then let him know that while I'm in labor the last thing that I will be doing is answering any of his questions or keeping him up on the goings on, that if he wants to know what the hell to expect I suggest he take a look at that damn book.

After he gets it removed from a certain orifice of his body of course.

Around this time of carrying a fetus around in your abdomen every woman comes to a realization. This realization is scary, sometimes paralyzing. It is brought to your attention that this baby has to...come out.
Yes. Oh, you didn't know that? How weird. It usually goes something like this:

Me: peeing

Me: thinking while peeing

Me: thinking that, "wow, next month we are having a baby!"

Me: thinking that "Wow. Next. Month. I. Am. Having. A. Baby."

Me: Blink.Blink.Blink.

Me: realizing the exact process that must take place to have said baby

Me: ...epidural please