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    If this is my only problem, then I’ve got no problems.

    February 19, 2007

    He treats breastfeeding as one treats a bottle of Montrachet 1978 that has been purchased in lieu of a home.  He approaches it with trepidation that maybe, just maybe, if he turns his head away for one moment, it will be gone.  He takes slow sips, savoring the full-bodied flavor.  He knows in his heart of hearts that he can make that one drink last for hours. 

    It’s the only time in a mother’s life that she wishes her child breastfed with the enthusiasm that gives her faint glimpses of a future Daytona Beach Beer Funnel Grand Champion, Spring Break, 2028. 

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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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    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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    It’s not really a wedding reception until…

    May 8, 2006

    1.  Someone, in a drunken stupor, dances into the matron of honor and knocks her over–which results in the back of her size Zero dress splitting open.

    2.  You are lucky to be sitting next to the person who realizes for the first time that the song is saying “she thinks my tractor’s sexy.”

    3.  Someone who has clearly never had a singing lesson gets control of the karaoke microphone and sings along to “Dancing Queen.”

    4.  The DJ calls it “the Magaraina.”

    5.  You convince your mother to dance to “It’s Raining Men, Hallelujah, It’s Raining Men, Amen.”

    6.  You dig all the camerettes out of the bag to make sure that EVERY SINGLE POSSIBLE SHOT HAS BEEN TAKEN–and you take the last 60 pictures of the drunks that haven’t gone home and just can’t say no to “one-more-dance.”

    7.  People begin referring to you as “the Paparazzi.”

    8.  People stop to ask if you are “the photographer” because you are taking 10 to every 1 of his shots and you have to explain that you are just the bride’s best friend from ages 3-6, until her father made the family move far away.

    9.  You offer the mother-of-the-bride a cocktail in hopes that she’ll dance on a table.  She declines, of course.

    10.  You get to tell the kids of the bride’s older brother that their father used to take ticks off the dog and drown them in alcohol (I think it was the good scotch) and the kids are grossed out.

    11.  You take a perfect picture of the bride and her two brothers, and suddenly you realize that you are old.

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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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