Earlier this month, we went on the sibling tour of the hospital, so the boys could take comfort in where I will go to get my grand extraction and so that Bumpus could again wonder aloud what happened to the good ol' days, when the men got to go to the bar, watch football, and drink whilst awaiting arrivial of their loin fruit.
There we were, in front of the big glass nursery window, all the little girls and boys lined up on the steps that allow those-under-three-feet-tall to see the babies. All the parents with their backs against the opposite wall, watching said siblings and pondering the fact that OH MY GOD THIS MEANS I HAVE TO COME GET THIS THING OUT OF ME.
General quiet as children look into the window and parents watch.
Rufus, the only voice he knows, which is slightly quieter than a jet engine: "Is this where we get the fried chicken?"
General assortment of parents: Laughter.
Other small children: More silence, while staring in awe and wonder at the miracles of life thus contained within said window.
Rufus: "LOOK MAMA! Way in the back! They got a HAMSTER CAGE!"
Comment from laughing father somewhere in the crowd: "Oh lord, I hope his mother is getting this on video tape."
Friday, May 26, 2006
She of the Turkducken Speaks:
Updates from the Land of the Fertile
Warning to all Small Planets:
It Has Its Own Graveetashunul Pull
Originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.
The tapeworm, named "The Boy Who Lived" for his Darwinian ability to eat his siblings in an effort to promote his own survival, grew to be an inch long, developed some sort of genitalia, and then promptly died. It was plenty big enough to see its beady eyes staring at all lookers-on as if to say, "See what life is worth without a woman?"
All sweet wonderful people in life constantly ask me--sometimes on an hourly basis--how I feel. My latest response, "Like a giant Turkducken." This may be her nickname. Fits nicely with the others: please meet my lovely children, Boudreaux, Rufus, and Turducken. I swear someone stuffed a fully grown Butterball down my throat when I was asleep. She is all elbows and knees and is both plenty way up into my rib cage and bouncing gleefully on my bladder. Unless I lean back, I cannot sit on a hard surface without spreading my knees way apart in a way that my Mama taught me was just asking for trouble.
Maternity clothes suck. The ones that go over the belly end up giving one a camel toe (see previous posting), and the ones that sit under the belly constantly fall down, risking the chance of exposing the belly to unwitting passersby, like a drunken potbellied town nuisance. I wonder if they give out citations for this.
I am fully in waddle mode, especially at home. At work, I put all my physical effort into standing up straight and walking properly. This, along with hours spent sitting on my constantly broadening butt, means that by the evening I am exhausted and my back is hurting from the exertion. Therefore, the waddling is rather pronounced in the privacy of my own ass-eye-lum. This, of course, used to startle and concern Bumpus. But he has now gotten used to my swaying gate, as well as to my pajama pants falling down at random times (draw string failure).
The boys want nothing more than for me to get into the swimming pool with them. And yes, Mama, I have done it. I have squeezed my round belly into a swim suit and chunky dunked into that above-ground Wal-mart special several times. It ain't pretty but it gets all the weight off of my swollen ankles. Just be glad I'm not at the boatin' club, doing it in public.
Two days left of going into work...and then I will be free to sit in my pajamas, eat ice cream, and wait wait wait wait wait!
The Graduate
Boudreaux somehow escaped the whole "dress em up like adults and give em a blank sheet of paper with a ribbon around it" graduation fandango, both at the end of pre-k and at the end of kindergarten. So I wasn't all hyped up about Rufus donning the mortar board, thinking that some rousing rendition of "The Animals Come in Twosies" would be a plenty gay enough way of finishing his summa cum laude three years of prep school.
Of course, then the raging hormones kicked in and I cried like a little baby.
Look at that FINE FELLOW, with his high-and-tight Corps hair cut and his "I'm off to the corporate world" expression! Damn boy! Go out and get a JOB so you can send home some money to Mamma!
Of course, then the raging hormones kicked in and I cried like a little baby.
Look at that FINE FELLOW, with his high-and-tight Corps hair cut and his "I'm off to the corporate world" expression! Damn boy! Go out and get a JOB so you can send home some money to Mamma!
1-888-MAKE-BAIL
Every East Texus family needs a lawyer waiting in the wings, to help with those little problems in life...everything from traffic tickets to questionable behavior involving cats.
Boudreaux did us a fine, fine job prosecutin that damn trespasser Gold E. Locks. Despite the fact that the jury had a nice long nap during the proceedings, they still found in his favor and voted to send that little bimbo off to the hooscow.
Notice the tie. After the trial, Bumpus put that right back on his neck and headed off to work.
Boudreaux did us a fine, fine job prosecutin that damn trespasser Gold E. Locks. Despite the fact that the jury had a nice long nap during the proceedings, they still found in his favor and voted to send that little bimbo off to the hooscow.
Notice the tie. After the trial, Bumpus put that right back on his neck and headed off to work.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Wanna Play Doctor?
Thank you Aunt Carrie for the awesome Golden Beaver scrubs! Now we need to learn the Golden Beaver fight song...
The Latest Pet at Fatty's House
Just thought all you wildlife ee-fishy-nados out there might like to see what hatched at our house. Forget the Sea Monkeys of the liberated '70s. This here is called a "Triops," purchased at Hobby Lobby, picked right from the little temptation booth next to the check out, next to the white chocolate Reese's, the masking tape, and the glitter pens. Kit came with eggs, food, and directions for starting our own farm. Said that these guys hail all the way back to the age of the dinosaurs. That didn't surprise me...every body needs a good tapeworm.
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