I was miserable.  And excited.  And exhausted.  And miserable.  Completely miserable.  I was carrying 71 pounds more weight than my 5 foot frame had ever carried, my feet were too swollen for any of my shoes, which may have sucked more if I had actually seen them in the past two months, or if I’d needed to put on shoes, because I couldn’t go anywhere, because I was on bed rest.  Which, originally sounded like heaven on earth when it was suggested to my 36 week pregnant self.  It got really boring really quick.  Daytime TV sucks.  Then, I was banned from driving.  So, my mother had to take me to my last OBGYN appointment.  I took a nap while they hooked up to a bunch of machines and monitored a bunch of stuff.  We scheduled my induction on account of my preeclampsia.  Then, as I was checking out (is it called checking out?  Do you check out if a doctor’s office?), my mother looked at my sheet, “DOES THAT SAY ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY ONE POUNDS!!!  I DIDN’T EVEN GAIN THAT MUCH WITH THE TWINS!!!  A HUNDRED AND SEVENTY ONE POUNDS!!  THAT’S MORE THAN ANY OF YOUR BROTHERS!!”  

So, that was awesome.  But, I didn’t really care, I was on top of the world.  I suddenly forgot the swollen feet and the aching back, and the crappy daytime TV,  and the ohmyfreakinggod one hundred and seventy-one freaking pounds, because two years ago today, I saw my baby’s face for the very first time. 

The moment it became real for me

I know, I’ve been MIA for a while.  And, now as a complete cop-out, I’m going to answer some questions from everybody’s favorite aunt, Becky.

1) Dave and I have a long-standing feud over cheese in a can. He thinks it’s food of The Gods while I think it’s probably Of The Devil. Your take?

–Dave is wrong, it’s not even real cheese.  That’s why they are required to call it cheese product.  The only “food” that belongs in an arousal can is whipped cream.

2) Is there any way you can think of to make the elder Gosselins go away? I AM ALL EARS.

–Stop caring about them.  No more watching their show or buying magazines with them on the cover.  Hopefully they’ll go the way of Vanilla Ice.

3) Who is your ridiculous “I can’t admit this to anyone in polite company lest I be banned from life” crush?

–Keanu Reeves, ever since I was introduced to his lack of acting skills in Bill and Ted.

4) If you could fuck it all and pursue your dream (assuming, of course, you were going to be GOOD at it), what would that dream be?

–When I was younger, I wanted to be in a singing group (think Wilson-Philips).  Too bad I am completely tone-deaf.

5) They say “living well is the best revenge.” I think they are wrong. Do you?

–revenge on who?

6) What is the most humiliation you’ve experienced in public that you’d be willing to admit to The Internet?

–other than the time my mother told everyone I wanted to get a bra, it would have to be the time I passed out in computer class because of an illegal substance (which is a post for another day).   

7) Are you honest with The Internet? Like, if I came over to your house tonight (heh)(I’m coming over, yo)(heh) would I be surprised at who I found?

–For the most part, yes.  There are some things that I fudge, but I think we all do that.

8 ) If you could have one talent that you don’t currently possess, what would it be?

–That whole singing thing.  I’d love to not be banned from singing my child to sleep.

9) There’s not always room for Jello. Is there?

–God, no.  In my life there is never room for jello. 

10) What’s your guiltiest of the guilty pleasures?

–that would be my cancer sticks.  The only time I’ve successfully given them up was when I was pregnant, and that didn’t even last a month after Nate was born.

Remember forever ago when we discovered that I was a fashionista at an early age?  Apparently, I passed this trait down to my little brother Carl.  Case in point:

Carl is on the left, in case you couldn't tell who I am making fun of

Let’s take a closer look, shall we?

Ahh, yes.

 I can’t even find the words.  That shirt came from Goodwill and was my older brother’s long before it was his.  Those shorts, they’re not shorts, they’re swimming trunks.  And, the shirt is TUCKED into them.  Carl tucked in everything, even his pajama shirts.  But what I can’t get over is the fanny pack.  The HOT PINK FANNY PACK!  Oh, man, I’m going to get something good from this blackmail photo!

Edit:  I just found this picture of Dominic wearing the same shirt:

Hoo-rah for hand-me-downs!

 And, before you say anything, yes, we did go have our picture tken with the Piggly Wiggly Pig like he was freakin’ Santa Claus.  That’s just how white trash we were. 

So, y’all remember when I used to post on this blog?  I know, it’s been a while.  I just feel like there’s nothing to say.  No, I never called that irish Scottish guy.  Or actually he never called me back.  So, that makes me feel great.  Not that anything would’ve happened, it just makes me wonder what it was all about. 

There’s been tons of family drama over my grandparents’ stuff.  Stuff that means something to us, and means dollar signs to others.  Others who were never around.  Other’s whose wife started going through their stuff the day after my grandmother died.  The same wife who couldn’t stand to be in the same room with them for more than 20 minutes now thinks she’s entitled to antique furniture and silver.  The same wife that got mad and told me I had no right to ask for my grandmother’s wedding rings.  The same wife who I want to freakin’ punch in the throat.  My brothers want to video tape it.  They say it’ll be the next youtube sensation.  Young girl knocks out old bitch. 

But that’s OK, I got the rings, and the dress.  

that stone was my great grandmother's

 

can you tell they got married in 1950?

 

The last time I tried on that dress, I was 14.  I had forgotten that I needed help getting it off.  For a minute, I thought I was going to be stuck in a wedding dress all day.  I pulled a muscle in my neck trying to get it off.  So, there will be alterations.  Stones will need to be set, but they’re mine.  Oh, did I mention that we set a date?  11 June 2011.  Yeah, I  know.  I’m a little freaked out, too.

So, I got a message from this guy on facebook telling me that this other guy wants to talk to me.  This other guy and I went out on one date nine years ago.  I had a huge crush on him.  He was young, and hot and Irish Scottish foreign.  Insert sexy accent factor here.  We had one date.  I was 20.  We went our separate ways.  He met some girl, she had his baby, they went to Ireland or Scotland, I can never keep them straight.  Probably one of the reasons we never had a second date. 

Then, about a year ago, I saw him, at the grocery store.  We caught up as much as you can in the checkout lane.  I told him to find me on myspace, blah, blah, blah.  Now, the guy from facebook is telling me that the other guy is going back to Ireland, or Scotland, or wherever, and wants to talk to me before he leaves.  This is weird, right?  Why do I feel like he’s gonna tell me he’s pregnant with my baby or something?  It’s really weirding me out.  Do I call this guy?  What do I say?  It’s not like we were ever close.  Why does he want to talk to me?  Seriously, do I call this guy?

p.s.  It’s Scotland, I just checked my message and it’s titled Scottish so-and-so is leaving and wants to talk to you.  I’ll just call him that, then maybe I can remember to not call him Irish.

Totally forgot this yesterday.  Thank you thank you thank you.  Charmed and Dangerous gave me an award.  Apparently I’m an awesome KY blogger.   This is not the first award she’s given me, she thinks I’m kreativ, too.  Kreativ with a “K” and no “E”, so you know it’s special. 

So, thank you, and this time, I’m charmed.

Nate got super sick.  We had his first trip to the ER.  He didn’t talk for almost a week because his mouth and throat hurt so bad.  Now that he’s feeling better, I can’t get the kid to shut up!  Full sentences people.  FULL sentences.  Like, “Mama Daddy not nice.”  Shut up, it doesn’t matter what the sentence is about, as long it’s a sentence.  In our defense, we had just put drops in his ears, so…

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I think I jumped the gun on the whole white trash Christmas thing.  He’s put out more decorations.  Taken over his neighbor’s yard.   And, I can’t find the muppet chef.  I think I’ll have to do a second edition.  Would y’all like that?  OR does it just prove that I have absolutely jack and shit to talk about?

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What the crap happened to Sesame street?  Seriously, man?  It’s now 20 minutes of Elmo’s world, and freakin’ Abby Cadabby cartoons, claymation Bert and Ernie, and Baby Bear, who seriously needs to be punched.  Right in the throat.  Maybe then he’d be able to pronounce his R’s and L’s.  And where the slank is the Count?  Or Oscar?  I love how Google put them on the title thingies, but they’re never on the freakin’ show.  Whatever, still better than Barney, right?

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   My birthday was last month.  It still hasn’t even sunk in that I’m 29 24.  I wanted to do something special and have people guest post, but ya know, thing got a little crazy.  Anyone wanna do a belated guest post about how special and wonderful and funny and young I am?

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My house is a freaking mess.  I was cleaning up yesterday and my birthday card from my grandma.  It stopped me dead in my tracks and I had to sit down and look at it.  I am so not looking forward to Thanksgiving and Christmas without them. 

It’s that time again.  The air is crisp, the leaves are turning.  We just put away Halloween costumes.  Oh, yeah, it’s time again for Caroline’s neighbors decorate waaaaaaaaay too early.  (Yo, this should totally make up for that crappy tiny picture I took with my phone.  Consider that a preview).  So, I have figured out that no matter what setting, my little Kodak just does not take good pictures in the dark without a blinding flash.  So, I planned it out this time.  Every night, about an hour before sunset, he comes out and starts the fans (oh, yes, these get inflated, and then deflated every night).  He walks around, repositioning them, holding up the more intricate ones so they don’t get tangled, and standing on the sidewalk surveying his masterpiece.  Then, he goes inside.  Then, it’s too dark and I can’t get the pic.  Last night, I said screw slank it.  He’s asking for attention, he can’t get mad if I take a picture.

No, that's not a flash you saw.

 What I didn’t know, was that he was there, all hidden in that mess.  I saw him jerk his head in my direction.  I turned around and looked the other way.  Crap.  His wife and daughter came out and they talked for a minute.  Then they all three walked down their driveway.  I was going over my defense in my head, when they turned the other way and walked down the street.

My chance!  My golden opportunity.  Man, are y’all gonna love this.  Now first, pretend you hear Christmas music.  Nice, cheesy Christmas music…

it gets better every year

 I’ve cropped it, so we can take a closer look.  

 Just let the classiness soak in.  And, I’m spent.

Philip:  Did you know that the Snuggie is a knock-off?

Me:  There was another one?

“Yeah, the Slanket was first.  It just didn’t take off like the Snuggie.”

“Maybe it’s the name.  Slanket.  That sounds dirty.  Like, ‘hey, you wanna slank?’”

“Yeah, slank you.”

“Ohhh!  That’s what I’ll do to stop saying fuck in front of Nate!  I’ll just say slank!” 

aside:  If only they had come up with a better name, or a catchy rhyme like the guys over at Snuggie.  Oh, and didnt charge like three times as much.  They have four different styles, and way more colors.  I totally want the Walk the slank pattern. 

Awesome.  I totally know what I’m gonna say when Philip tells me to slank off.

The day before my grandmother’s funeral, Nate and I went to Natural Bridge with my family.  In KY, you get about 3 weeks of gorgeous fall scenery before everything goes bare and grey.  We got in on the tail end, and it was awesome.

Nate and Granddad

 P.S.  I swear I have a real post coming.  I promise.