The Sprout, Bianca, Bryce and Me

Hello Blogland!  I did not get taken by gangster squirrels or the Eat Me lady.  No, I’m currently in the hospital waiting to become an aunt for the first time!  Sprout is early, 34 weeks, but he is strong.

So, to pass the time – we are on day three of actual labor right now – I have pulled out an old draft post.  After the birth of Sprout, I promise to blog more.  I swear you won’t believe what all has happened. And, I’m relatively sure PIC and I are going to create a lynch mob to handle it.  It’s a terrifying fun fact we came up with last night….we actually can create a lynch mob at a moments notice.  We have several people in our lives that love us enough to respond without question or hesitation to “bring a weapon and meet me at the bridge at midnight”. 

So Beast, all you men that glitter….best beware.  Piss off PIC and I?  A lynch mob will ensue.

Now, without further ado, here is the post from before all hell broke loose.  Love to you all!  Please bring me vodka in a water bottle.  I need it.


Bianca is Brain Dead

Bianca struck again.  For reals y’all!

Me: Hey Bianca- what’s wrong?

Bianca: Um. Why do you always answer the phone like that? Nothing’s wrong.

Me: Because it’s work.  During my busy time.  You know this.  We discussed…do you seriously not remember???

Bianca: Well, yeah but I just miss you and I’m totally bored at work. And I thought you were just having a hormonal moment.

Me: silence…

Bianca: Um. Hello! I said I missed you.  And really, why don’t you ever call me back?

Me: Bianca. Sweetie.  I need you to listen closely to me. Get in your car and drive to the ER immediately.  When you get there, have them put you to the front of the line because Bianca, I’m relatively sure you are brain dead.

Bianca: What?

Me:  Last time I said you are either completely stupid or completely selfish…and I didn’t know which.  Now? I know.  Because you called back.  In my busy work day. To say you are bored.

Bianca: So.

Me: Wow Bianca.   Do not EVER call me again while I’m at work.  I simply will not answer….emergency or not.

Then I hung up on her….again.  You think it’ll stick this time?  Was I too mean? Maybe.  But she kinda deserved it.

Baby Shower from Hell

I didn’t imagine a baby shower could be bad, but here’s how it went down.

1) I got sunburned.  On an overcast day.  I was supposed to be there to referee the two pregnant and due within a day of each other sisters, so I was relegated beside the 100 year old neighbor invited out of pity because she was midway between them both.  She smelled like bourbon and mothballs.  Between silent gags, I would smile and nod at her.  Turns out?  She wasn’t talking, rather she makes noises that SOUND like talking in her sleep.  I looked insane.  Thanks for the heads up people.

2) Bryce.  Bryce is three and is a special kind of child.  He requires a lot of attention.  I’m pretty sure he may be a serial killer one day and I can be interviewed by the show Dateline and tell this story.  Sister 1 goes storming into the house during the shower.  I go in to do damage control.  I find Bryce.  In the back room.  With matches.  Bryce is, with the dexterity of someone at least double his age, striking matches and throwing them in the floor.  The floor is carpet.  It’s beginning to smoke.  His eyes are alive with excitement until he sees me.  Then Bryce proceeds to dash like a freaking gazelle into the bathroom and slam the door.  I put out the fire, it smells like singed fur, I put all flame producing materials in a shoebox in the top of the closet….and I go to get Bryce.  Bryce is in the tub, pouring stuff down the drain.  I’m not sure what all he found, but it smelled like eggs. Again with the defeated look, Bryce sees me and tries to flee.  This time I’m on to him.  I pick him up football style and haul him to the basement with the other kids.  I put him in his play crib thing and he proceeds to squall like I’ve removed his left leg.  This brings in mom, finally.  He points to me and says quite definitively, MEAN.  Nothing like being called mean by a potential serial killer to bring down your whole damn day.  Note:  Other things Bryce did that day?  Pulled a girl’s hair out….in a tuft.  Bit a dog on its back leg. Attempted to stab the old neighbor woman’s arm with his spoon.

3) Feathers.  I’m allergic.  I think I mentioned that once.  Romantic encounter at a fancy hotel turns almost deadly?  Yeah, that’s me on my first grown up Valentine’s Day with a guy one year.  Apparently, that fact skipped the mind of the sisters I stayed with during the shower.  I was so exhausted from leaving my house at 3:30am, chasing planes and children and refereeing the sisters all day that all I could do was crawl into the bed and fall over…on to what I learned soon was a feather pillow with a feather comforter.  I admit.  Part of that is my fault.  It felt suspect, but I was so tired – and had such faith in my friends that of COURSE they would remember – that I just fell over.  In about half an hour, I woke up to the choking sadly familiar feeling….I couldn’t breathe and it was probably due to feathers.  I lived, thanks to some handy epi pen work and a shower.  But, I didn’t sleep for crap the rest of the day….and I had to be at the airport heading home way too early.

Delay Delay Delay

I was supposed to be home the afternoon of Sunday.  I got back early Monday morning. Why? I had the layover from hell at the world’s busiest airport. Along the way, I met the world’s most boring man. I really tried to find him interesting, but I just didn’t.  And when you’ve been sitting in the airport for eight hours, and you STILL find someone boring?  That’s bad.

After the boring guy, and after exhausting all contacts on my phone, I had to go find power.  Turns out? Power outlets in the airport are like freaking GOLD.  I was relegated to sitting outside a magazine store like a homeless person, huddled up with my knees under my chin, duffel bag, purse and neck roll beside me, stealing power from the outlet on the side of the store, whist trying not to get trampled from people running to their gates in, as I said, the world’s busiest airport.  I was met with looks of disgust, pity and eventually, hatred.

I don’t think I’ll ever fly again….. anytime soon.

So that concludes my fun weekend.  Hopefully yours was better, or at least didn’t involve potential serial killing children and a brush with death.



  1. Where should I send the 4 cases of wine??
    Seriously, sounds like you’ve had the week from hell.

    Bianca – seriously, this woman is brain dead… unreal. No, you were most certainly NOT being too hard on her. That reality check is just not cashing.

    If it wasn’t bad enough to referee two hormone-ridden pregos, a terror of a 3 year old is just the icing on that crap cake. I’m so sorry! How is that you look like the bad guy at the end of this? Drink up, my friend, drink up!

    Really hoping and praying that the labor business gets itself over with in a hurry. You need a night out with PIC, methinks. And rally the lynch mob if you feel so inclined! I’ll fly right over! 😉 Raising my pinky to you, lady! Hugs!

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