They Probably Did That in the 60's

Steph: But now we're grown-ups and have rooms and beds for that sort of thing.
Me: Mmm hmm.
Steph: Besides, our car way too small.
Me: I can't really talk about this, because I'm sitting here with Carl's Mom and step-dad having coffee and desert.
Carl's Mom and step-dad: *ignoring, ignoring*
Steph: Oh. Ok. Well, I'll catch you later, then.

Carl's Mom and step-dad: *avoiding eye contact*

Me: Well, now you think I was saying bad things about you or something. Car sex. She was talking about car sex.
Step-dad: Oh!
Me: You two aren't a couple of squares. I can say car sex to you.
Step-dad: Really?? Hey, thanks!

(See how I smoothed that over? Totally smooth. That's me.)

BLACK Friday

I woke up around four this morning, and couldn't get back to sleep. I illogically link this to the two (TWO!) turkey dinners I enjoyed yesterday, but it probably had more to do with this:

Aqualass: HI!
Me: What.
Aqualass: I'm hungry. Lets go!
Me: There were two dinners. Two. You are not hungry.
Aqualass: Yes. I am. But no leftovers. Let's go to the store for pumpkin muffins. And Walmart. Walmart is open now. Walmart! For SHOPPING!
Me: That's stupid. I don't want to go to Walmart. FOR ANYTHING!
Aqualass: Now I have hiccups. Hic. Hic. Hic. You know what I bet? I bet it doesn't feel like hic hic hic in your guts I bet it feels like THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.
Me: Hey, wanna go to Walmart?

So we were at Walmart by six this morning, after leaving this note:
Can't Sleep.
Went Out.
Am Crazy.
Dog Pooped.
Love U.
Back by 8.

I was fully prepared to be entertained by the crazed masses once I got there. I pictured a Bosch-esque scene; the angst of the penitant, the writhing of the unwashed souls, the rending of flesh and so forth, except with Bratz dolls and blow-up lawn reindeer. There was unfortunately much less carnage than anticipated. Only a few suburban wildabeasts arguing in over-strained polite tones over the clashing of shopping carts and the last talking Dora the Explorer. I guess I live in too rural an area to witness any real holiday agony.

Which was fine, because we still wanted pumpkin muffins, which were triumphantly obtained by 7:30 or so after I picked out some wrapping paper and coordinating ribbon and stuff. We plan on shirking any further capitalist duties on this Black Friday, staying in for the rest of the day, and eating the ceremonial post-T-Day turkey sammiches.

More From The Duck-Billed Interloper

The ultrasound tech was enamored with my alien child. She said things like "such a cutie" and "what a heartbreaker." Watching the surreal little fingers float quietly to rest upon a round little cheek, I said "How can you tell? She looks like pod people from space," but I felt all squishy and full of strange icky love feelings.

Here is a foot, captioned for your viewing convenience. There is no good way for laypersons like myself to understand the scale on these sort of things, but it looks like a hobbit foot to me. With hobbit toes that are currently digging a good foothold into my ribs, either testing them as a kick-off point, or working in between them so that she can hang on by her feet the day we all try to pry her out of her executive suite and into the cold, cold world.

Here also is a profile. She was making sucking-lips at the time, probably plotting exactly how she plans on turning my nice, attractive ta-tas into functioning Mommy-Jugs that will never be the same again. Well the joke's on her, cause all that scheming makes her look like a platypus. So there.

Blogaversery

My blog won't be officially two years old until the 29th, but I'll probably be too preoccupied by things like my birthday, Thanksgiving, and giving birth in the upcoming weeks to blog about trivial stuff like this, or really at all.

I was paging through the early entries here, remembering important facts about myself, like how two years ago I was working at the mall, and how one year ago, I was at the tail end of my pizza days. This shows how very very far I've come in order to be a very profesional substitute teacher who often opts out of taking assignments because she "doesn't really feel like working today." Important fact about me: despite having earned a college degree, I am still the same unmotivated commitment-phobe that I was two, five, or even ten years ago, and I probably always will be. It's good to have consistancy in our lives, no?

Also, two years ago, I opened a Gap charge card, vowing to use it only on my baby nephew and only for that impending Christmas, and to then pay the card off and close it. Yeah, well then I found out that you could also use this card at Old Navy. Still have stupid card. Still carrying some sort of balance on it. Bite me.

In addition, I discovered that my affair with knitting is also two years old, and that my pirate name was at one time Iron Prudentilla Bonney. I believe that pirates can knit if they want to. I believe that Miss I. P. Bonney is still alive and well, even though my blog is spiraling uncontrolably toward the day when it becomes just another insipid mommy-blog, and away from the insipid self-absorbed twenty-something babble of it's glory days.

So, happy Blogaversary, MoVille. Let us not become too insufferable in the near future, k?

Heard at the OB Clinic, With Inside Voice

"Who knew there was a weight limit on birth control?"

I did. Of course, you don't look like you quite top that limit, but it's a moot point if you don't take the pills.

"You'll see when yours is two. They just will not be good. Luke, baby, no. Don't kick her. NO! Do you want a cookie? Stop it! Cookie, sweetie? Luke! Cookie? Luke! Luke! Luke! Don't ignore me, or I will come over there!"

Yeah, Luke. Don't ignore her. She might just have to give you another Snickers.

"The daddy of this one's a meth head and in jail. I hate him. I hate his bitch mom worse. That bitch just makes problems for me for no reason. She tells people I'm on drugs. Um, duh, I'm pregnant. I don't even do drugs now. I swear to God, some people shouldn't ever have kids."

Um. Duh.

"We'll do the puzzle again. Crystal called me a booger. You come to Aunt D's house and call her a booger, ok? Her is the boss of that baby, cause her is him's mommy. Her is the boss of that baby, cause her is her mommy."

Where is the boss of you, anyway? Did she leave you here? You are kind of boogery...

"I love coming here. It's so nice to be around other mommies who know what's up and actually talk to each other and help each other. It's like having sisters once a week. It's just so nice."

"I know. It is." My god, I hope my prego pants don't make my ass look that fat.

Last Week

Monday
Mo: I don't feel good. I think I ate too much scrapple.
Carl: Me too. Half a brick each is too much. We know that now.

Tuesday
Mo: I don't feel good. My back hurts a lot over here when I lay down, sit up or breathe. I haven't made it out of bed all day. Blahrg.
Carl: Don't worry. It's okay if you're having an emotional day.

Tuesday Night (all night)
Mo's Fever: Hi! I'm 102.8!
Carl: OMG! Stop it! That's too hot for babies!!!
Mo's Fever: Shivering is fun!! Babies like to be warm, right? Lets sweat!
Carl: Take Tylenol! Get in the cold shower! NO PARBOILED BABIES!!!
Mo: *shiver, moan*

Wednesday Morning
Mo's Doctor: So, have you been urinating frequently or felt any pressure in your bladder?
Mo: Hi. Eight months pregnant here.
Mo's Urinalysis: You didn't see the blood in here??
Mo: All that water I've been drinking to quench the fire in my body must have diluted it.
Mo's Dr: Yeah, kidney infections happen a lot in later pregnancy. They can start contractions and early labor. Have you tried not having a kidney infection?
Mo: Um, yeah. That didn't work.
Mo's Dr: Oh. Well, take this antibiotic. It'll fix you good.

Antibiotic: *Fixes me good.*

Thursday
Carl: OMG don't do that again. Damn it.
Mo: "emotional day." hmph.
Carl: You are allowed to have an emotional day! You are NOT allowed to get sick! Damn it!
Mo: I really thought it was the scrapple. Like scrapple was finally taking vengeance.
Aqualass: Hey, does it still hurt when I stick my foot here? Yeah? How 'bout here? Interesting. Antibiotics aren't really food, you know. Could you send some peanut butter down here? Or soup. Soup soup soup.