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    Because breastfeeding is just all the rage with the kids these days

    March 16, 2007

    Derek asked what I was attempting to do just 15 minutes before Amy and T. were supposed to show up for dinner. 

    K:  I’m trying to nurse the baby now so that T. doesn’t have to look at my bare breasts all night.
    D:  Well, everyone else in America has seen them.  Why can’t he?

    I don’t know.  Because now I can practically tuck them into my pants?  Because T’s from Maine?  Because the state from which they are hailing is just slightly less uptight than the mother of a 15 year old girl on prom night?  And he’s not the blogger friend.  He’s the blogger friend’s husband.  He’s an attorney, for God’s sake.  We all know how uptight attorneys can be.  And frankly, there were one too many “cleaning-out-the-deep-freezer-so-there-will-be-room-for-your-bodies” IM’s.  He’s probably traumatized by the thought of entering a stranger’s house.  A stranger who has repeatedly plastered her husband and children’s identities online but who somehow remains comfortably anonymous.  While the average blogger has no problem with inviting a veritable stranger into one’s home and calling that person “my friend Amy,” maybe a non-blogger is not so trusting. 

    Oh, I refer to her as “my friend Amy” because I had great faith that once I met her, she would be “my friend Amy.”  Maybe it was the fact that she showed up with flowers and a bottle of Bacardi.  Maybe it was the 2nd Mojito talking.  Maybe it was the commonality we had regarding, shall we just judiciously call it “family drama?”  Maybe it was the 2nd Mojito talking.  But she is most definitely now “my friend Amy.”  Even though she Laughed Out Loud when I explained that “of course I made a cheesecake for dessert.  That’s what stay-at-home-mother’s do.” 

    What I don’t understand is why my husband laughed.  I mean, that’s what SAHM’s do.  I’ve heard that somewhere, I swear.

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    “The British are coming! The British are coming!”

    September 2, 2006

    I have been DYING to say that since the 2nd grade.  OK, so the Brit is gone, but it felt even better to say it than I thought it would. 

    It started about three weeks ago when I told my mother that Martin and his friend were coming to visit and that they were going to spend the night at our house.

    M:  WHAT??  You are going to have strangers that you have never met, except over the internet, at your house?
    K:  Uh, yeah.
    M:  They are going to spend the night?
    K:  Yes.  On my couch and in my spare bedroom.  Mom, they are like 12 years old.  You don’t even develop the qualitites and skills of a serial killer until at least your late 20’s. 
    M:  Well what does Derek think about this?
    K:  He’s too busy preparing for the end of the world.  But if he was paying attention, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.

    I just looked at this woman, who is my mother and one of my favorite people in the whole world, and wondered if she had finally lost her mind.

    K:  Mom, I cannot believe, after all the penniless/homeless/lost people that you and Dad let crash at our house over the years, that you would be surprised by this.  After a lifetime of that, what did you think your children would do?
    M:  Not turn out like your father or me?
    K:  Nice try. 

    Not that Martin is penniless, homeless or lost, although the good people of Newark were kind enough to take his money for a hotel room when the airlines cancelled his flight. 

    Martin and his friend Sarah showed up and they did not appear to be serial killers in the least.  Sarah, a nice American girl whose mother told her never to talk to strangers, seemed a bit disconcerted with the whole arrangement, but you’ll be surprised what a few Malibu and Coke’s can do to lighten a girl up a little.  Who are we kidding?  Everyone knows how much you can lighten up a girl with a few Malibu and Coke’s.  Derek kindly tried to explain that I was plying Sarah with liquor because I was bitter that I could not have any myself, due to fetal alcohol syndrome and all. 

    Martin and Derek proceeeded to work their way through Derek’s home brew and Martin’s appreciation was enough to make Derek consider asking him to live on our couch forever.  Martin then said that he could tell that The Boy was brilliant, at which point we dropped the paperwork to adopt Martin in front of him and asked him to sign.  He did not, as such American attention and affection was clearly overwhelming. 

    By that point Sarah was saying things like, “I tried to read your blog twice but I just couldn’t get through a post.  They are too long.”  Derek, of course, wholeheartedly agreed and we decided that the time was right for Sarah to take a sobriety test.  Pictures of which can be found on Martin’s blog.  If you are Sarah’s mother and are reading this, OF COURSE SHE PASSED, SHE BARELY HAD ANYTHING TO DRINK.  For everyone else, a picture speaks a thousand words. Not only does that Sarah look like “a lot of fun,” she IS a lot of fun. 

    I think she may have stolen a butcher knife from the kitchen and taken it to bed with her for protection but she didn’t need it.

    Martin was commenting (read “complaining“) about how he would be awakening at 4 a.m. due to time zone differences and I graciously offered him the use of my laptop for the 5 hours that he would be awake before the rest of us. 

    I then went to bed and laid there sleepless for 45 minutes, wondering if Martin and my laptop would be gone when I woke up.  Sure I’ll invite a stranger for dinner and let him sleep in my house.  But to give him my computer?  I would rather have left him the keys to the Volvo, my debit card and pin number, and propped the baby on his lap on my way up the stairs. 
    Martin and the laptop, however, were right on the couch were I left them.  And no one was happier about that then me…

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