I should have known better when I looked in the bathroom cabinet, that the box was empty. I thought it was a brand new box. When I opened it and realized, to my horror, that it indeed was empty, panic set in. I run downstairs and my oldest son is sitting on the couch, watching television. I begin my schpeal.
You know what brings a mother and a son closer together?
Um, no?
And it also guarantees a spot in her will.
Um, okay? What?
They will know it’s not for you.
Who? What?
I need something from the store.
Okay, what?
You like driving your new car right?
Right.
Well then, here’s a perfect opportunity for you to drive that shiney new car.
Wanna spill it already?
I need tampons.
Oh no, that’s not happenin’.
But I need them.
I don’t buy those for anyone. No way.
The cashier will assume they’re for someone other than you - you know since you don’t have a vagina.
Not doing it. I will drive Matt over and he can go in.
Fine then.
I approach my youngest son and ask him if he could run down and tell Matt to come upstairs, that it’s an emergency. He jumps up and races down to get Matt.
Matt comes running up, a look of panic on his face. I begin my schpeal with him.
You know what brings a mother and a son closer together?
Uh, no?
When a son walks into a store and buys his gorgeous (just adding an adjective for a more interesting story) mother a box of tampons.
OMG.
What?
Geez, Ryan came downstairs and said there was an emergency - I ran up here thinking someone was, I dunno, bleeding!
*Crickets* The room went silent.
He soon realized that his words, couldn’t have been more true. I assured him, that he’s definitely in my will.
If you missed Teri Hatcher’s rendition of Carrie Underwood’s “Before He Cheats,” thank your lucky stars. Your ears will praise you. If you were unlucky enough to hear it (why oh why did I click it?), then you will now know that she is a horrible singer. True, I’ve probably heard worse via American Idol tryouts, but seriously, Teri needs to stick with the acting - because, ya, she’s the best actress there is.
Most people I know, who’ve listened to or saw Hatcher’s performance on Idol Gives Back, thought she sucked. I’d have to agree. Every blog or celebrity site I’ve read, came to that same conclusion. However, there is at least one person on the planet who thinks “she was pretty good.” Ya, that’d be my husband.
Mr.Man has a boner for Teri Hatcher, but still, I was sure when he actually listened and watched her performance, he’d agree with the masses - that Teri should never pick up a microphone and sing in public. Ever.
But nope, he only had positive, nice things to say, such as:
She’s pretty good, stayed in key the whole time (Yes, her voice was like liquid gold and that’s why she’s famous for her singing - oh she’s not famous for her fantastic singing? My mistake)
She’s not a professional singer but did fine for not really having any training (Uh huh)
I’ve heard worse, but really, she wasn’t bad at all (I’ve heard worse too - Teri Hatcher, ha)
I don’t know why people are saying she sucked (Uh because she did?)
Listen, I’m not stupid - had she been 5000 lbs of jiggly fat, hairy, sporting a thick mustache, had huge pit stains on her blouse and farted live on stage, then he’d say she sucked, no doubt about it, even if the “quality” of her performance was exactly the same. But since he’s got the hots for her, ya, “she was pretty good.” Ha, men. Soooo transparent.
And just incase you missed it, here’s Teri in her full singing glory - note: You MAY want to wear earplugs or pray beforehand that your ears don’t bleed.
Or should I say I hated being pregnant? Ya, because I’m currently not pregnant nor will I ever be again.
I recently wrote this for work (Tori Spelling gushing about loving being preggo, blah blah) and I mentioned at the end of the post, that I must be the only woman in the world who hated being pregnant, but to my surprise, I’m not alone.
I was obviously happy to be having a child and not to dismiss the fact that I was lucky enough to conceive a few times, as some women aren’t, I’m not trying to sound ungrateful, it’s just that I didn’t get the warm fuzzy feelings that alot of women get when they’re preggo.
Some women gush about how they love their bodies, they’ve never looked better, feel fantastic, yada yada yada, and if that’s how you feel when you’re with child, fabulous, more power to you. I never did. I never felt glowy (although people told me I was), I did NOT like my pregnant body and although I didn’t gain more than 16 pounds in any of my pregnancies, I always felt fat, bloated and yucky. I did have great hair though, so that’s one nice thing.
I remember when I was pregnant with my first son, I was 19, newly single and had not a frigging clue what to expect. Sure, I knew how people got pregnant (duh), knew the technical stuff about actually giving birth, realized that I’d be shaped like some dude with skinny legs and a beer gut, but really had no idea what I was in for.
I had gone shopping - I was about 7 or 8 months along at that point - and found the cutest peach colored loafers (sure peach coloured loafers now, sound hideous, but this was the 80’s k?) and didn’t even bother to try them on - I was always a size 6.5 or 7, so never any need to try shoes on. I get them home and excitedly take them out of the bag and want to wear them out that night (was going to a movie with a friend) and low and behold, the fuckers don’t fit my feet. What? I immediately look inside the shoes at the size stamped on the side - 7. Again, I try to put my foot in, and nope, that puppy ain’t going in. I take a good look at my feet and realize that they’re SWOLLEN. No one told me that pregnant chicks get swollen feet! I start crying, going on and on how I’ll never wear a size 7 shoe or smaller again. My life was ruined. Never mind the fact that I was about to have a baby at 19 and single, living with my parents, MY DAMN SHOES DON’T FIT. Priorities people, priorities. I vowed then and there, that someday I would wear those peach loafers (oh I did wear them btw - the day I left the hospital).
Other things I didn’t know about being pregnant (at 19) - you don’t get alot of sleep in the latter stages of your pregnancy. Who knew? Strangers come up to you and mention that you look a tad too young to be having a baby and ask personal questions, like are you married (I was separated), do you have a job (I did), are you going to breastfeed? (that’s your business?), do you know if you’re having a boy or a girl (it’s one or the other, yup), can I touch your belly? (um, no), do you have a name picked out? (no), will you have more? (I haven’t even had this one yet) - amazing what people you don’t know, think they’re entitled to know.
Other things I had no idea would happen (again when I was 19) - as I was peeing at around 2 a.m., the pee just kept coming out (ah in the toilet, luckily) and it was sorta freaking me out. After a good two minutes, it clicked that my water had broken. I grab a towel and make it like a diaper and run and get my parents, tell them it’s “time.” My contractions were about every 3 or 4 minutes, and I actually took the time to sit in my room, in front of my big mirror and carefully apply full makeup. Foundation, eye shadow, mascara, blush, lipgloss - the full shebang. I even curled my hair - I mean no one told me that I’d end up looking like a drowned sewer rat after 8 long hours of labour and that hair and makeup is really not required when giving birth.
The best part though - was as I was being wheeled into the delivery room (yes way different back then, you laboured in one room and were carted off to another room to actually give birth), I was asked by a doctor if it would be okay to have some med students watch and take notes? I was high on Demerol, so I naturally said sure. I remember being pretty much stoned, but yet seeing about 5 med students with clipboards and pens, staring at my vagina. One of them was super cute, that I do recall very distinctly. And the next day, as I’m laying in my hospital bed, that same cute dude accompanies the doctor making his rounds. and although his face was in my privates the day before (and um, not in a good way), I totally wanted to ask him out. I bet he would have said yes.
It’s amazing that I went on to have more kids, and although my life circumstances did improve - I still hated being pregnant all the other times too. The heartburn, the feeling like someone (uh the baby?) was pressing on your bladder 24/7, the impossibilty of trying to find that perfect sleeping position, the morning sickness for SEVEN MONTHS, the fear that your water would break in the mall, the bizarre food cravings - how I do not miss those days. Sure I liked getting the cute baby after all of that torture, but the pregnancy itself? Never liked it. Not. one. little. bit.
My 7-year old daughter always has many burning questions and seriously, who doesn’t want to know this:
Mom is the Easter bunny like real?
Sure.
Ya but is he real? And…is he really a he? Or a she?
What do you think?
I think he’s a boy and I think it might just be some dude dressed up in a rabbit suit. I mean really, a giant rabbit going around with eggs and chocolate? Plus, rabbits poop ALOT. And I never see any rabbit poop in our house at Easter time.
True. Thank goodness for small miracles.
I think I’m going to write about this in my journal.
