Abandoned.

Today is The Hub's birthday. He's 33. To celebrate his birthday, I thought I would commemorate with a story.

The Hub has a picture of himself sitting cross-legged on the beach as a very young child - maybe 18 months or so. He's wearing, in typical late 70's fashion, a little navy sailor suit, and the sun is shining on his blonde hair, and he's squinting at the water.

It's a beautiful picture, but The Hub hates it.

He insists that he was left alone at the beach that day. He says he remembers it. In fact, he and his mom had a conversation about this not so long ago. It went sort of like this:

Him: I remember when you left me alone at the beach.

MIL: What?

Him: You know, when I was a baby, and you and Dad left me alone at the beach.

MIL: We never left you alone at the beach.

Him: Yes you did! I remember being all alone and scared because you guys left me!

MIL: No, I'm fairly certain we never left you at the beach.

Him: Yes. You did. I have a picture of it.

MIL: Well then, if we left you alone, who do you think took the picture?

Him: Oh.


But you know what? He still insists he was abandoned on the shores of Lake Michigan. Maybe he was, except it wasn't his parents that abandoned him - it was his parents that found him. Maybe some freighter out on the lake was carrying a load of babies and a big wave came and swept him overboard and he washed up on Michigan's pinky in his little sailor suit, and that's where he came from.

Works for me.

Do you know what this is?

It's this, all blown up.

That's why we have so many kids. Cause instead of using these for their intended purpose, we prefer to blow them up and have swordfights with them. You haven't lived till you've been bonked on the head with an inflated rubber. However, I don't recommend using the lubricated kind. Leaves a funky residue.







oh dear. I think I need to go take a nap.

Daddy, boob, same diff.

Overheard at our house.

Daddy: Say "Daddy."

Beastie : Mama!

Daddy: No, say "Daddy."

Beastie: Mama!

Daddy: Can you please say "Daddy?"

Beastie: Mama!

Daddy: Come on, I won't ask you again. Say "Daddy."

Beastie: Boob!

I'm thankful.... (meme)

So, there are days when I get really upset about money, and get myself all worked up about what we're going without in order to pay bills. We aren't rich, let me put it that way, and sometimes it all builds up and I get so mad. Like last week, my radiator went out on my van, and that cost like four hundred bucks, and then the next day the heater core burst and started ejaculating antifreeze onto the driver's side floor. I say ejaculating, which is kind of funny, because antifreeze smells like a dirty cooter. I'm sorry, but it's true. I told The Hub we should bring it to the OB/GYN, with that smell and all.

And did you know it costs $500 to fix a heater core? Yeah, I didn't know that either. But I can't just drive around with green stinky cooter-y stuff spurting onto the floor of my van, can I? No.

So during times like that, it's easy to get caught up in what we don't have, instead of focusing on what we do have. And to that end, I am going to now list for you the things I am thankful for, because I know you are dying to read it.

I am thankful for....

1. My amazing husband, who puts up with my oddballness.

2. My four beautiful children, and my nine little angel babies waiting in heaven.

3. My morbidly obese chihuahua, Petey. (I put him on a diet though, he only ate one grilled cheese today, and part of a smoothie, and some dog food.)

4. My cross-eyed cat, who purred in my face during labor.

5. My house, because even though it is small and drafty, the roof doesn't leak and I can afford the payment.

6. My van, even though it smells like a really dirty vulva.

7. Water. Cause I like drinking water.

8. Living in the country, so I can walk around naked.

9. Skin, because it would be really gross if everyone walked around without skin on.

10. Having enough food to eat, even if I have to cook it myself.

Yep, it looks like I have a lot to be thankful for. I was going to list things like toilet paper (for obvious reasons) and elmer's glue, and coupons, but I thought that might be stupid. So there.

How to Scare the Crap Out of Your Husband

Step One. Tell Hub you have been having dreams you are pregnant.

Step Two. Buy pregnancy test; talk to Hub about how nervous you are to take it.

Step Three. Announce that you are going to pee on the stick.

Step Four. Pee on the stick (in the bathroom. Not on the sofa, please.)

Step Five. When only one line shows up, and you are sure it's negative, yell "Oh my GOD! Oh no! What are we going to do!?"

Step Six. Wait for Hub to come running into the bathroom. [If he doesn't, repeat step five until he does.]

Step Seven. When he comes in the bathroom, laugh and show him the negative test.

Breastfeeding in Public Part Deux

So yesterday, I had to drive 4 hours one way to pick my stepdaughter up from Ohio. Well, actually, I didn't drive. I rode. We also brought all four kids, leaving just enough room for DSD. Luckily she is big enough to not need a booster, or we'd have all been screwed.

On the way there, The Babe started hollering to eat. We were a little more than halfway to our destination, which was good. I thought we'd have to pull over sooner.

Anyway we got off US23 at an exit in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. If you turned left, there was a gas station full of cars, and if you turned right, there was an empty lot. It had been a gas station at some point, because there was still a tall Sunoco sign, but there wasn't a building or anything. The lot was dirt but appeared well traveled and maintained. I decided to make DH stop there instead of the busy Speedway, because then I wouldn't have to worry about covering up.

I got The Babe all snuggly in my arms while DH stepped outside the van to have a cigarette. Within a minute (and I mean a real minute, 60 seconds) a cop came screaming into the lot. He pulled up real close while I tried to cover up a little bit, and DH just kinda stood there and looked at him. He was a really stereotypical cop, with a buzz-cut and mirror sunglasses. We were about 45 miles West of Detroit (which is pronounced day-twa, thank you very much.)

Anyway the cop pulls his Crown Vic up next to my window and says to DH, "Can I help you out?" but not, you know, in a nice way. He said it more like, "Get the fuck out of town." (Except there wasn't a town, but whatever.) DH was really calm about it, because of course we have no reason to be afraid of the police. "My wife is breastfeeding the baby, and I'm just standing here having a cigarette," he said.
"Well," the cop replied, all huffy, "a lot of people stop in this parking lot to cause trouble." He was almost accusatory about it, and leaned out of his car to peer in my window. I didn't know if I should cover up or not. I didn't want to get hauled in on indecent exposure charges, but I didn't want the guy to think we were lying, either. I decided to unlatch The Babe and put him on my shoulder to burp him. The cop kind of glared at me and said something about "Why don't you just bring a bottle?" I acted like I didn't hear him, and he pulled off really fast, leaving a big cloud of dust.

We stayed there for another twenty minutes or so feeding, and then maybe five to change an extreme blowout diaper. And would you believe that cop drove by four more times?

I realize the cop was worried about people starting trouble, and being in a kind of secluded place. but there was no need for him to say what he said (about bringing a bottle) and no need to be such a jerk about it. He never asked us to leave or anything like that, just kind of hassled us.

I was glad to get back on the road, obviously, and I just can't help thinking about this incident, and the incident last month at WIC. Are people going backwards? Or have I, by some stroke of luck, avoided this type of people in the past?