Gorillabuns

salvation army

Sometime during the last week of Celia's school, a mother of Celia's classmate (of which I have had maybe three conversations with during the school year), asked me a strange and slightly awkward question.

"I have some clothes I'm going to donate since I've lost weight and I thought maybe you would like them or could use them. What do you think?"

How does one answer such a question?

"DUDE, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?"

"I'M NOT POOR!!!"

"SERIOUSLY, I DOUBT WE HAVE THE SAME TASTE IN CLOTHING."

"HOW DID YOU GUESS MY BIG-ASSED SIZE? ARE YOU PEEKING AT MY TAGS WHEN I'M NOT LOOKING?"

"I CAN'T EVEN BEGIN TO THINK ABOUT YOUR SKIN BEING STUCK IN THE FIBERS OF THIS CLOTHING YOU ARE WANTING ME TO WEAR."

Actually, I replied, "How very kind of you. Thank you very much" with an Academy Award winning smile plastered on my face. Contrary to popular belief, I'm a nice person and I hate to hurt someone's feelings, especially if they mean something in the nicest way.

Let me start by saying, Celia goes to a Catholic school (for the time being) and well, the people who send their kids there dress...ummm....well... VERY FASHIONABLE. Like, you know, size 0 shit and if they aren't dressed up? they are wearing size -0 fashionable workout duds because they are on the their way to work out or puke or something. Quite honestly, my state of dress doesn't stand out - good or bad. I'm just there. Usually in my uniform of a white v-neck t-shirt and black pants. I blend nicely.

The lady offering her clothes to me? Well....how do I put this? She's a very nice woman. Let me also add - we have NOTHING in common. NOTHING AT ALL! I somehow doubt she has ever stripped off an unmentionable in a mist tent during a Lollapoolza concert or had sex on the 10th hole of a golf course in the middle of the night for the hell of it. She's non-descript.

While feeling like a complete bitch for judging her and her nice gesture (at least I think it was a nice gesture), I looked into the bag of clothing.

OH. MY. GOD.

Words cannot describe how I feel about these dresses so instead, I'll let you be the judge:

Remember, I'm pregnant so please disregard the massive shit in front. So? What do you think? Is it me? I think the ruffles add to the dress. Don't you?

How about this little number:

HOLY SHIT!!! Excuse me while I try to recalculate my due date because DAMN!!!! I must be about 9 months here. Actually, I think this dress is the very best of the lot.

While I AM a Pisces, I don't want to dress like a character out of Nemo.

Someone loved this dress so much, they bought even more in dark blue and turquoise. Sometimes one CAN have too much of a good thing.

Pink is not my color.

I'm also not a nautical kind of gal.

The bag also included a few large bathing suits that looked like the ass had been scrubbed with a Brillo pad. Just what I needed to complete my Summer wardrobe.

Sidenote: I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell for this post.

nine weeks

I've received several requests to see a cute pregnancy belly. If you want to see a cute preggo belly, I suggest clicking here.

If you are wanting to see a freak show, scroll on down:

The circle is supposed to represent a medium olive.  Does it look like I'm carrying a medium olive? Wait, don't answer that.  Really.

For vanity's sake, I don't think I'll be looking into any mirrors for the next 1.5 years and I sure as hell won't be capturing my portly status.  So feast your eyes on the only picture documenting this life-form sprouting forth my entrails. I'm sure you can only imagine how future months will look. Go ahead and imagine. I'm not stopping you. I'm just not showing you.

Dear lord.

today, i would have received my 30 day chip

I'm guessing I'm still pregnant since the doctor's office hasn't called me back after yesterday's uneventful appointment.  Actually, if I had any sense at all, I should have forgone the damn meeting and spent the time hidden in a corner at the local bookstore. Time spent there would have been a lot less stressful and more fruitful.

Results I know you are dying to know about yesterday's poke-n-mash:

a) I'm FAT. Fatter than fat. Screw the 10lbs I was worried about gaining - let's just skip onto the Freshman 15. I do believe after this adventure is all said and done, I will weigh more than a sumo wrestler and will be forced to wear their large bolts of fabric around my ass like a diaper. Please don't stare if you see me walking/waddling down the street.

b) I can pee thirty times in one evening but when it comes to peeing in a cup at the doctor's office - I can't seem to squirt a millimeter of urine into the Dixie cup. I guess I have pee-on-demand anxiety.

c) I was reminded I was OLD no less than four times during my 15 minute exam. Yea, well... I'm fertile like some YOUNG backwoods pregnant 16-year-old so, why keep mentioning the obvious? To make me feel, ummm... older?

d) Even though my doctor didn't even try to listen for a heartbeat, I do get an ultrasound in three weeks. Because I'm old and also to check for "fetal abnormalities" due to my oldness. awesome.

e) Jury is still out on if I'm carrying multiples - if you saw the girth I'm sporting, you would seriously wonder if I have a soccer team fertilizing the lawn in there.

f) Even though I/we can't predict the future of this embryo and it's will or ability to stick around, I DO know how much I will have to pay in full to the OB by October 25th. If something unfortunate does happen, I do hope their business office will reimburse me quickly to restock my liquor cabinet.

g) My hospital of choice of which I delivered BOTH my babies at is no longer available for use with my OB. I'm not happy with this discovery. I guess I should interview ALL the nurses at the new place to see if they are willing to slip me my medication an hour early without making me point to the pain chart on my level of pain. I will also ask them if they have ever had a c-section and if they have, they are the only chicks able to tend to my reasonable/unreasonable post-partum self.

h) The only bright and shining spot of news I received yesterday: I will deliver this year! Let us not mention that I will be delivering around Moira's birthday and Christmas but DUDE!!! ONLY ONE INSURANCE DEDUCTIBLE!!! Saving money far outweighs the thought of being in the hospital around Christmas or New Years.

elbow

Well, if you are expecting some spectacular update about my burgeoning girth - wait in line. It seems  I'm a complete dumb-ass and showed up to my OB appointment early. Something like four days early. I SWEAR they told me today. I don't just make up random appointments out of thin air.  Hell, it's hard enough to wake up early and perform extra special grooming practices on my lazy self. Now, I have to perform this ritual all over again on Tuesday. Yea me!

So, until next Tuesday. Though, I will be sweet and share with you my new favorite song/group of the moment - Elbow.  If it weren't for my sweet and thoughtful friends, Susan and Kim, I would be stuck listening to fifteen year old Cd's. Thanks guys for keeping me in the "know."

">elbow - The bones of you

driving sideways

I'm on my way to Barnes and Noble to pick up a brand spankin' new copy of a fellow blogger's debut book, "Driving Sideways." I'm doing this because a) Summer is almost here and I need something to read while baking my little pinto bean in the backyard - pretending to watch the kids play. b) Jess Riley asked me to do so and if she asked me, well... I better follow-through. I'd hate to make her cry. c) I need a book for the next round of the on-line sexy exy book club.  d)  With my nose buried deep in a book, my Internet consumption will be way down and thus, my husband will be less likely to chew my ass for wasting time.  Besides, I can read this book while hiding in the bathroom or closet. If I haven't shared this with you, I do hide from time to time in these special places in the house. Shhh.... Just don't share this information with my kids. I'd hate to have to go and find another hidey hole.

Anyway, if you are an adventurous sort of person who might like to live on the wild side - run out and support a fellow blogger making her dream come true. A BIG DREAM COME TRUE, that is. So, GO and BUY her book!! Please and thank you!

You know what my big super-duper dream would be? The ability to not gain ANOTHER ten pounds before my first doctor's appointment tomorrow morning. That would be a special and exciting dream. Not likely, but special nonetheless. OH!! and not having more than one blueberry inside my womb.  I don't think it would be very funny if I had a bunch of berries I had to raise until fruition. I'm quite sure they'd rot from my lack of stamina and drive these days. Seriously!!! Let's hope there is only ONE "thing" in there and it's alive and kicking.

Until tomorrow....

don't tell me i'm the only one who saves these

What exactly is the statute of limitations in saving these little gems of condiment love?

5 dresses

Rich rented "27 dresses" last night for my lazy and bloated viewing  pleasure. Actually, I requested him to find the movie and to not return until he had it firmly embedded in his hot little hand. For some ungodly reason, I was in the mood for a chick-flick. Be assured, this is an uncommon occurrence and I blame the hormones for such a weakness in my character.

Honestly, I have to admit - I liked the flick. I liked it because I HAVE BEEN the person who pleased the bride-to-be before, during and after their wedding. Helping them plan their events, pick out a wedding dress, hold their dress out of the commode while they peed, toasting to their "good fortune," drinking all their free alcohol and running from the sling-shot bouquet toss when the humiliating "single ladies" round-up occurred (this situation was where I would draw the line in aiding and supporting.)

I helped every prospective bride because I was secretly in love with weddings just like the main character in the movie and sadly - in love with being in love (Let us not discuss my lack of stable relationships during most of the weddings I gracedattended.)

After the credits started rolling across the screen, I thought back to the good, the bad and the down-right ugly in bridesmaid's dresses I had worn in the past. While I think I've been in more than 5 weddings, I could only muster up 5 pictures of proof. You know you want to see them. I won't even make you beg.

Let's start with the first wedding that pretty much ruined me for all wedding in the future (including my own.)

Here I am, a spry twenty-two, virgin eyebrow plucking college Senior. The black velvet bridesmaid's dress was from Victoria's Secret and bordered on new and crazy for a bridesmaid in 1991. The black velvet part that is. This event would happen to be the only time in my life in which I wore a size 4 (I blame the drastic diet of wisdom teeth extraction for such an awesome feat.) This was the only wedding in which I did not have to pay a cent for the privilege of being a bridesmaid.

I quickly learned, this windfall of good fortune is not always the case during subsequent weddings.

The next wedding occurred in July 1993. 

God love you Tiffany (and I really do) but burgundy velvet and shiny taffeta are not a winning combination during the hottest day of July in Oklahoma. I do believe I lost around 10lbs during the 30 minute ceremony and strangely enough, my fresh and thick matte makeup failed to drip and run during such climate issues and equally held up during hysterical tears. The tears were not for the bride and her moment but for my boyfriend who was not in attendance to walk me down the aisle. The ass-wipe of a boyfriend would happen to be Rich who just so happened to be enjoying his sweet self on a second tour of duty in Alaska. Fishing. I chose to stay in Oklahoma, graduate and attend this wedding. Alone.

Note to self: Less is more in the eyebrow powder department.

Third? Who is to say when this wedding occurred but I think it was in December of 2004 (and why yes, this IS a picture of a picture. This would explain the tilted vision of loveliness.)

I happened to be encased in a lovely Emerald green velvet dress in which the shear weight of this beauty hindered and obstructed my drunk free-falling ass down a large hill. This was the night of many firsts. Two-steppin' it to country music, promises of free trips to Paris the next month by willing suitors, the almost puking into a Poinsettia wrapper instead of the Poinsettia owner's nice Mercedes followed by my locking the bathroom door, puking and then passing out at a wedding after party - which happened to be the Poinsettia owner's beautiful three story home. The most horrifying event of all? I was forced to sleep in a Garth Brooks t-shirt after the bathroom door had been successfully picked open by the hostess. A subsequently lengthy and long discussion arose over my modesty and my inability to willingly don on the offensive t-shirt. Sadly, the hostess won the argument. Strange enough, I was invited to parties at this residence for years to come however, I did have to promise to not lock any doors during my visits.

The next wedding? I was single. Rich and I weren't dating and I was semi-newly heartbroken over another idiot with whom I had been engaged to earlier that year.

(I know you're wondering why I had to take another picture of a picture instead of scanning this beaut. The answer is? I'm totally lazy..... and an inept photographer.)

This dress was purchased for me without my measurements taken into account. Free? I'll take it! and not look in the mirror and hide behind bouquets. Don't worry about me......Really..... As you can see, I pretty much drank my way through the reception to ease the pain and suffering of having a dress fit too tightly around the hip/saddle baggage action.

Note to self: celery green looks like shit on me. Never wear it again.

2002 - a.k.a. too old to be a bridesmaid or matron of honor- p.s.s. done with the whole attendant gig: Pregnant with Celia and I do believe fresh from the bathroom from either crying or puking my bloated guts up. Notice the awesome BIG boning in the strapless unshapely bodice? Notice the 20 yards of red taffeta bunched unsuccessfully under the bodice? Notice how hugely HUGE I am while pregnant? Note this was the only wedding I have attended sober. I guess one out of fifty isn't so bad.

This would conclude my walk down bridesmaid lane. I thought I would throw in a picture of my bridesmaid's dresses from my own wedding in May of 2000.

These two piece dresses were hand-sewn with love by my sweet little arthritic Grandmother - laced with promises of the ability to wear the skirt again -topped with a nice cardigan and pearls whispered in skeptical ears. Yep, I was a total cliche. I seemingly uttered the same corny line I had been diligently fed throughout my wedding attendant years while knowing full well - bridesmaids never want to wear this shit again.

I miss my nightly cocktails

Everyday - all day - I run to the bathroom to make sure everything is status quo. Everything being, am I still pregnant? As prior pregnancies go, I am directly on pace to being the slightly neurotic old self by carrying around feminine hygiene products for unexpected issues. I have procured and used around 7 (who am I kidding, I've probably used more) pregnancy tests to further quell my doubting nature. While I need to chill the hell out, I don't seem to be able to do so. What I wouldn't do for a Xanax or a mixed drink right about now.

I promise - I'll relax when I see something more tangible like a heartbeat or an actual baby.

Issues that are currently threatening my sanity and quality of life a.k.a. health?

a) Tornado warnings and sightings just down the street from me. Oh, how I love Oklahoma.

b) Sharing a birthday party with one of Celia's classmates with the end result? Me resisting the urge to drop-kick the co-birthday mother. Either I share TOO well or she's a nut-case (census of school mothers state for the record, she's crazy!) who quibbles over bags of ice when I don't charge her for pinatas, candy, plastic ware, balloons and my psychiatric bill. I am trying to hold my tongue because I really don't want to birth no baby in prison.

c) A mother of a kid who WAS invited to the above party but somehow DID NOT get the note or in her case invitation. She has let everyone in the general vicinity know her feelings were hurt even though she/her kid was invited. Note to self: Be sure to safety-pin invitations and/or correspondence to the backs of the invited kids. This approach should solve any future problems.

d) I have 300 wedding invitations I am supposed to be performing my awesome calligraphy talents on so ask me, how many have I completed in a little over a week? The correct answer would be 20. Chances are this project will not be completed in time for the May 15th deadline. Go me!

Have I mentioned how much I miss my frequent cocktails? If not. I do. Bunches.

 

The fifth day of the fifth month of your fifth year

Five years ago today, I was beached on a hospital bed awaiting your arrival. Several unsuccessful attempts to bring you into this world, failed. Quite honestly, my body failed. It failed to blast you out of the mine of comfort and warmth but these doctors knew how to fix the problem. They doped me up, hogged-tied me and Voila! You were shockingly delivered into the arms neck of a freaked out mother in less than 20 minutes then shockingly, moved on to be poked and prodded.

Seconds after delivery, I found out you were a little girl. My heart soared, the birds sang and the breath from my body was whisked away from this very news. I had a daughter. A dream fulfilled. I hoped and prayed at that very moment, you and I would come to understand what it means to have a beautiful mother-daughter relationship. You see, I have one of the most beautiful relationships would could have with their mother. It's something to cherish, hide in your pocket and defend against anyone trying to bring it down. To prove my point, while we were doing our meet-and-greet, my mother, your grandmother, was in our hospital room wringing her hands with worry over you and I. I've come to realize over the past few years of being a mother, at times the worry and concern is a curse; 95% of the time, the worry and concern is a blessing. Seriously, no one cares and loves you more than your mother.

I'm not forgetting about your father here, he cares and loves you with the blaze of a 1000 suns and would slay any dragon for your cause but when it comes right down to it - mom is the go to person when you are sick, hurt or emotionally bereft.  I wouldn't have it any other way.

The beginning wasn't so easy. Jaundice, colic and hernias abounded.

I'm sure you have spent pretty much every day of your life wondering why we were chosen as your crazy set of parents.

You've let your displeasure be known.

Especially about this nuisance who arrived a year later (I forgive you for almost killing her when we brought her home. I truly understand. She can be so annoying at times.)

I admire so many qualities about you. I especially love your eye for fashion and YOUR own interpretation of what this entails.

I love your beautiful smile

and I can't believe I'm saying this - I love your attitude.

Don't get me wrong, this was your attitude pretty much from age eighteen months until 3.5 years old.  A VERY LONG PERIOD if you ask me.

Somewhere along the way, you snapped out of your evil ways and became such an angel. A joy to be around. Thoughtful, kind and even dare I say it? Sweet.

Your sister? She picked up where you got off on the crappy train.

This weekend while you kicked it against the wall and waited quite patiently for all the idiotic children to calm down at your dance recital, I caught a glimpse of what you will look like as a grown woman. My vision was not due to the whorish make-up they make you wear for this shin-dig, I caught sight of your heart and all it's beautiful splendor. You are growing into a beautiful person but most importantly, inside is really where you beauty resides. You my dear a wonderful gift that keeps giving and giving and giving.

Thank you for sharing your first Five years with me. It's been quite a ride. A ride I feel blessed to be able to take with you.

a word to the wise

please don't ask me if I/me/we were using birth control while performing perfectly legal sex acts with one another. I think the end result speaks for itself, don't you? It's safe to say, I'm no better than a sixteen year old getting herself knocked up except for the small fact - I've finished high school and college and my body was already shot.

Please don't ask me if I want a boy since I have two girls that adore and idolize their father while insinuating I should totally get my turn on the love train. Girls ARE drama but man o' man! is it great when Rich has to take both girls to ballet because they love him so and can't stand to be apart from him for one nano second. This leaves me my weekly one hour veg time. I love it and wouldn't trade it for a boy or a pet fish.

Please don't ask me when I'm due. I don't have a clue. I'm praying it's later than than earlier otherwise, this child might have an extra fin and five googly eyes due to the alcohol consumed within the month of April.

Please respond to my emails, calls, and SCREAMING your name FIVE TIMES - IMMEDIATELY!!!!  If you don't respond quickly, you will be responsible for the HAPPY, SAD, CRY, CRY, "YOU DON'T LOVE ME!" CRY, CRY, and then back to NORMAL response - all within four minutes time.

I totally forgot about this stage: the bitch,whorehormonal ball of unreasonable emotions. Good times... Good times.....