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    Why people like me should not be in business

    December 19, 2006

    Last night at 5:40 p.m, approximately 20 minutes before the Postal Service takes the last set of packages out of the APC machine for the night (i.e. the last shipment of the day), I realized that I didn’t have any more “Definitely Not Having A Silent Birth” t-shirts in small.  This was highly unfortunate as M (keeping it anon to protect the innocent) had ordered one.  I freaked out, because that’s what pregnant women who own their own business do.  I decided to call M and ask him what he wanted to do.  Which is what I did.

    “Hello?”

    Crap.  A woman.  Possible THE PREGNANT WOMAN.  Now I had to be professional.

    K:  Hi, may I speak with M?
    W:  He’s not here.  May I take a message?
    K:  This is Kristen calling.  I’m calling in reference to an online order he made.  My number is 867-5309

    Just kidding.  I didn’t say that was my number.  Now that would have been funny.  Except if she was pregnant, she wouldn’t have thought that was funny.  At all.  And she would have cried.

    He finally called back after I had already made an executive decision and mailed out the package.

    K:  Did you perhaps order a maternity t-shirt?
    M:  I did.
    K:  Is the person I spoke with earlier THE pregnant person?
    M:  Yes. 
    K:  CRAP!!!  OK, I just want you to know that I was VERY worried that she was so DON’T WORRY.  I was very coy.  I was all “this is in reference to an online order he made” and my husband thought I was a freak.
    M:  (laughing) Great.
    K:  No, not GREAT.  M, WE HAVE A PROBLEM.  WE DON’T HAVE ANY SMALLS IN YOUR SHIRT SO I WAS CALLING TO ASK WHAT TO DO!!!! 

    In case you were wondering, I was yelling.  Derek was laughing, M was laughing and I sounded like I was certifiable.

    K:  M, I SENT YOU A MEDIUM!!!
    M:  That’s great.  We’ll make it work no problem.
    K:  I also threw in another shirt in Small–the Baby Brewing shirt I was actually calling to see if you wanted another free shirt instead of that one but then I was all, “I don’t know if they are heavy drinkers like we are and would want the Mommy Wants a Cocktail shirt.”
    M:  (still laughing) Actually there is a little of that going on over here.
    K:  Well, I sent the safe bet. 
    M:  We really could make the medium work.  Is there any way to take out the free shirt?  I don’t want you to have to do that. 
    K:  Nope it’s gone you know the Postal Service says it will get to your house in 2 days but are those people on CRACK and I know this from personal experience there is no way that shirt is getting there in two days and what if you wanted to give it for the holidays and it wasn’t there on time so I just wanted to get it on its way so the chances of it getting there would be better if I sent it tonight and I didn’t hear back from you in time before I sent it and if she just wears it to her doctor’s appointments and tells everyone she got the shirts at Baby Brewing then it will be GREAT and I am 8 months pregnant so I am a lunatic. 

    And then I breathed.  Which made my husband VERY happy. 

    M:  Congratulations on being pregnant!  We will tell EVERYONE where we got the shirts!!!  Talk to you soon.

    I love M.  He’s not my favorite customer.  That would be Tara.  But I still love M. 

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    Things you will never hear me say

    July 1, 2006

    1.  No, no, no, Buddy. Don’t use your words to tell me what you want. I like your whining so much better.


    2.  Baby, I hope you NEVER get off my lap. I love it when you plaster yourself to my chest and try to kick the laptop off my legs. I would MUCH RATHER snuggle you for 24 hours a day than get anything done.


    3.  There is just not enough dog hair in this house. Could someone please brush the dog so we can have the nice feel of fur between our toes as we walk through the living room?

    4.  There are entirely too few crumbs on this couch.  I think we should run, get a bag of cheerios, dump it on the couch and roll around on them until they feel like sharp little needles that impale your skin when you sit on them. 
    5.  Derek, why don’t you take the later train home from work today so The Boy and I can spend more quality time together?

    6.  Why are all these toys put away so nicely?  We should up end the boxes and make a little mess around here.

    7.  Mom LOVES it when you repeatedly poke where her toenail used to be before she ripped it off with a door.  It feels SO good.  No, no, no.  Don’t touch those other nine unaffected toes.  Just the big one.

    8.  I’m glad you found that old Chick-Fil-A cup to drink out of from the trash can.  Aren’t you industrious to dig all the way to the BOTTOM of the can to find it?

    9.    Diapers are SO 20th century.  I think you are smart to take yours off and randomly pee on the floor.  I mean, why sit around in all that wetness when you can walk in it instead?

    10.  No really.  One glass of wine is all I usually drink.

    11.  What do you say we just screw this whole “selling the house” thing and just get rid of it in a raffle.  I mean, we don’t really need to sell it for a profit.  In fact, we should just give it away.  Or pay someone to take it. 

    12.  OMG, this SAHM thing is SUCH A SCAM.  I mean, all I do all day is sit around and watch soaps.  Who know that raising a child would be such a piece of cake?  We should have a dozen.  Work was a BITCH compared to this.  Going out to lunch everyday, a Starbucks coffee break in the morning, Starbucks in the afternoon, surfing the net, writing BS reports, driving around in a government car.  THAT was REAL WORK, people.  This.  Now this is the life. 

    Thanks to Chris for this idea. 

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    Bethlehem, OH BETHLEHEM

    May 19, 2006

    I’m in Bethlehem.  No, not the one in the middle east with Baby Jesus and all.  Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.  Why are you in Bethlehem, you ask?

    I’m asking myself the same thing.  Is it so I can turn the dial to any station and hear every 80’s song I ever loved (“I don’t know where you’ GOING, and I don’t know WHYYYYYY.  Listen to your HEARRRRRRRT before he tells you GOODBYYYYYYEE!”)?  Is it so I can hear an inordinate amount of stations playing harpsicord music (3)?  Is it because I wanted to stock up on hotel bottles of Suave (pronounced Swayve) shampoo?  Is it because, after spending 3 1/2 hours in a class trying to learn how to turn www.babybrewing.com into a PRETTY website, I wanted to drive 211 miles to stay in a Best Western (thanks for the jacuzzi suite upgrade, Rich.  It’s just I’m scared to get into the tub)?  Is it because I was dying to get away from my offspring–the toddler who has decided that he will only take a nap on 600 thread count sheets on Mom’s bed, if Mom is lying beside him, not doing absolutely ANYTHING except occasionally breathing, with said toddler’s permission?


    Dear Lord, I have lost what is left of my mind.  I came to Allentown, actually, to pick up my brand spanking new screen printer and to learn how to use it.  In preparation for the class, Mark asked me to describe my skill level with screen printing.


    Uh, I pick out crappy fonts? 

    My sister thinks this is a bloody brilliant idea.  She thinks it will be as much fun as having your own helium tank. 

    I don’t know if anything can actually compete with a helium tank.  But I’ll let you know.  Post all your favorite ideas for sayings–I’m branching out to expectant fathers, new mothers, rotten children and bloggers.  And Vloggers (I couldn’t forget you, Bekah!).  So let me know.  If I pick your idea, I’ll send you a shirt. 


     

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    One of those days

    May 16, 2006

    That was today.  You know those days.  When you barely have the energy to breathe in and out, let alone be productive.  We had a hectic weekend.  It’s not like we really did anything, but we stayed up late and got up early. 

    So when the Boo woke up early from his nap today, I crawled in beside him hoping that my comforting presence (yelling GO TO SLEEP NOW) would lull him back to slumber.  And there I was, two hours later, sawing logs like Homer Simpson.

    I’ll give him credit.  The boy tried to awaken me for, oh, about 15 minutes.  He crawled on my head, he hit me with his cup.  He yelled “UPDOWN” about a dozen times. 

    Then he tried to wake me up by tickling me.  He was making himself laugh so hard in his efforts to bring me back from my sleepy bliss.  He was giggling away and I was thinking, “who is this child and how did he get in my bed?  And where in God’s name is his mother?” 

    Oh, that’s right.  I’M his mother.  Whatever.  All I kept thinking was “why won’t he go back to sleep?”  I guess expecting him to sleep longer than 4 hours is a little ridiculous, huh?  And now he’s up.  It’s 11:43 p.m.  What kind of mother has her kid up at 11:43 p.m.?  I guess the kind that lets him sleep for 4 hours at naptime.

    One of these days I’m gonna figure it all out.  I hope.

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    Defending a woman’s right to choose, one shirt at a time

    April 30, 2006

    Well I got my first cranky email about my “Definitely not having a silent birth” maternity tee over at babybrewing.  Rebecca from California writes, “Your Not having a silent birth is definitely NOT funny.”

    Oops.  I thought it was funny.  Apparently it is definitely NOT funny.  I have offended.  Derek and I began to discuss this ad nauseum.  Or I discussed it ad nauseum and Derek commented when he could get a word in edgewise.

    K:  I wasn’t trying to offend anyone.  Hey, Jen wanted me to make a tshirt that said “Silent Birth=Crui-azy.”  Now that would have been mean.
    D:  You are making fun of them.
    K:  I’m actually just exercising my constitutional right to free speech and free choice.  You know, a woman’s right to choose.  For those who “choose” not to have a silent birth.  Who won’t have L. Ron Hubbard telling them to keep their mouths shut while they attempt to pass a 15 1/2 inch head out of a hole the size of a sharpie pen. 

    I would just like to say that I officially passed the bar two days ago and it didn’t take me long to obtain the ability to talk OUT OF MY ASS at a moment’s notice.

    OK, so maybe I don’t actually believe that the constitution actually gives the right to choose, but that is besides the point. 

    I have thought about this all day.  Wondering why someone would take a joke so seriously.  Derek thought that Rebecca was Katie Holmes, in cognito.  I think she is still being silent (has it been 7 days yet?) and Dave thought that Rebecca was the legal counsel for the Church of Scientology. 

    Then I googled Rebecca.  Note to all you internetors out there.  If you are going to leave cranky emails, don’t use rebeccainsertlastname@theslowestinternetconnectioninAmerica.com when you send the cranky email.  You are entitled to your opinion and you are entitled to share it with me (I believe I have already mentioned the constitution somewhere here).  But odds are pretty good that I am going to blog about it and it won’t be pretty.  And you’ll have to be patient with me, as I have not completed of Grade IV Expanded and the Happiness Rundown, as Rebecca has.  So in all my unenlightenedment, I apologize for making a joke that was not funny.  

    But here is the kicker.  I had a silent birth.  Not a Scientology-espoused silent birth, but I reached a point that I threatened to bring physical harm to anyone who broke my concentration.  In fact, my husband caught on really quick.  I think it had something to do with me saying, “Stop TALKING.”  And the fact that I was looking for an extremely sharp object with which to impale him.  But if he had told me before I had Ethan that I HAD to be silent, I can promise I would have screamed like a banshee from the first contraction on (that’s 28 hours of screaming, if you needed the math).  

    So I guess the joke is on me.  Sorry to offend. 

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    The moment you realize that the cat is out of the bag

    April 23, 2006

    My sister called to discuss my web design issues with Baby Brewing and it didn’t take her long to ask me what was wrong.  I mentioned that I was drunk and she brought it to my attention that it was 2:30 in the afternoon.  I said that my in-laws were in town and that I had been drunk since dinner last night.

    I would like to clarify that I was drinking WITH my in-laws and not BECAUSE of my in-laws.  No really. 

    They have excellent taste in vino (except for when my mother-in-law adds water and ice to it, which actually makes my father-in-law apoplectic), and someone (read “Derek”) had been cracking those bad boys open as fast as he could last night.  This doesn’t explain being drunk today, but whatever.

    So I relayed this conversation I had with my sister to my in-laws.  And out came a jaw-dropper from my mother-in-law…

    MIL:  Oh dear, this isn’t going to look good on the blog tomorrow.


    Blog?  What blog?  Who has a blog?  Better yet, who told Nana I had a blog? 

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