Not porno tongue...church tongue.

The Wedding Singer?

Best. Movie. Ever.

If I had that movie on video, I would watch it until the tape wore out.

And I would be happy.

No one was there to hold my purse.

The highlight of today was the baby shower I went to.

It was also the lowlight. Or whatever.

I love babies. I love my dear friend/boss for whom the shower was being held. I loved seeing all the wonderful gifts she got and yes, every single time she held up footie pajamas or little plastic bowls or bibs or whatever, I went, "Awwwwwwww!" right along with all the other women in the room.

But baby showers, like everything else related to babies, make my heart hurt. They make my heart physically ache.

Because I want a baby more than anything. More. Than. Anything.

I know, I know. I have two beautiful children. I'm lucky. I'm selfish. Blah, blah, blah. I know all the mean, ugly things that anyone could possibly say to me when I dare to feel sad for myself.

Because, honestly? I feel cheated.

Ever since I was a small child, I wanted nothing more than to be a mother. You know how your teacher asks you what you want to be when you grow up and you say, "A nurse!" or "A teacher!" or "A super secret agent man!" or whatever? I would always say, "A mother." Because that's what I wanted to be. That's all I could ever imagine I could be.

As I got older, I realized I wanted a family. I wanted people who would be my people. People who I could come home to. People who would love me unconditionally and not judge me.

So I, being smart and all, married someone who DIDN'T love me. And then got pregnant so I would have someone to love me. Because I'm a genuis.

I don't want to tell the whole story. It's long and tiresome. The upshot was, I had preemie twins. By that time, the husband was long gone.

I dreamed that I would find someone who would love me and love my children and want to have a child with me so I could...be normal. I wanted to be normal. I would go to the doctor's office when I was pregnant with my twins and there would be all these women in the doctor's office with their husbands. The husbands would sit and hold their wives hands or rub their bellies or carry their purses. I had no one.

I went into the hospital right before I had my children and there was another girl who was admitted at the same time as me. She and I were talking a little and I told her I was expecting twins. Her husband showed up. Then her parents. Then her sister and brother-in-law. Finally her inlaws. She had seven people standing around her. We were separated by a curtain. I heard her say, "That girl in there, she's expecting twins." All of her relatives said the usual things like, "Oh wow! Twins!" She then said, "She's all alone."

I was so ashamed. Good Lord. I was so ashamed. I was so completely, utterly, painfully alone.

I swore to myself, much like Scarlett O'Hara or some crap (I am Southern after all), "As God as my witness, I will be normal someday!"

I turned 31 in October.
I don't have a baby.
I'm never going to have a baby.
I'm never going to be normal.

Random blogginess

I like kids better than I like adult people usually.

Recently I was at one of my friend's houses for a "home party". You know what I mean. You go to the house of a friend or friend of a friend or someone who wants to make money and someone shows up to sell salad bowls that burp or candles or pizza stones. And you feel like you have to buy something or you look really cheap? You know?

Actually, the party I went to was for Once Upon a Family and I quite willingly spent A Lot Of Money. But I digress.

I went upstairs where a small group of children, including my own, were playing. There was a small boy and girl who looked to be about 4 or 5. I didn't know them.

"Hi!" I said. "I'm That Chick Over There! Who are you?"

The adorable beautiful cherub of a little girl said, "Hi! I'm Eva! This is my brother Nelson and we are twins! We are both five!"

Smashing!

I said, "EVA!"

Then I launched into my own version of the song Viva Las Vegas. Except, I sang, you know, EVA Las Vegas. Because I secretly want to be Weird Al. I'm already white and nerdy and we have the same hair, so I'm like 3/4 of the way there.

If I had burst into song in front of a group of adults they would have all looked at me with a starey-face and then, possibly, politely laughed.

Eva, Nelson and all the other children began to dance around the room and sing along with me.

That is only one of the many, many reasons I love children more than grown-up's.


Now, I'll talk about the weather.

Cause I'm all old now and don't old people like to talk about the weather?

I'd really like to know WHAT is UP with the weather. Because this morning? When I woke up? It was seventy degrees. No kidding. It was balmy! Someone who lives down the street was hanging Christmas lights (yes, at 7am and no, I have no idea why) and wearing SHORTS while performing this activity. It's DECEMBER.

Anyhoo, in an hour it was down to around 40 degrees. I think it's even colder now.

It's probably the sign of the world ending or some crap. I have no idea. I don't care as long as I get to graduate before our Lord and Savior shows back up. As exciting as the notion of eternal joy and delight is, I would be hella pissed if I did all this work and didn't get to graduate.

Also, on an semi-related note, why are all weathermen named Chip Waters or Skip Weathers or something like that? If I have another baby I'm going to name her Rainy Stormwaters. She'd totally have job security, and I'm all about that. Girl Power!

My boss is getting her baby from China!

I am delighted and horrified at the same time.

Delighted because she is one of the most freaking fantastic people currently breathing. Pleased because she's forty-five and has wanted a baby for probably twenty-five years. Estatic because she has been going through the adoption process for two years now. Genuinely thrilled for her because she is dear to me and I love her.

Horrifed because she's going to leave the country in two weeks and then take three months off to be with her baby. And I'll have to take over her job.

I keep telling myself that I can totally fake it. Seriously. If someone asks me something I don't know, I'll be all like, "Good question!" and then not answer. I'm a government subcontractor! People expect me to skirt the issue, right?

It'll be super.

It's beginning to look a lot like...rampant consumption.

Black Friday came and went without so much as a thought from me.

Okay, that's not totally true. I got my newspaper out of the box on Thursday and looked at all the flyers from the different stores to see if anything was such a super-amazing-oh-sweet-lord kind of deal that I would be willing to get up out of my nice warm bed.

Nothing even remotely seemed worthwhile. And I'm the kind of girl who loves a good deal.

I like Christmas, I really, really do. I don't necessarily like shopping, but I do like to give gifts to people that I love and care about. I like setting up my Christmas tree and decorating my little house. I like wrapping up presents and seeing my little son and my little daughter's eyes light up when they see presents under the tree with their names on them. I like to make goodies, I like to buy gifts for those "kids we don't know" as my children call them.

I do not like people fighting in the Best Buy over a $600 video game. I don't like people selling plasma for a Tickle Me Elmo. I don't like people wondering what they are going to do next year to top this year.

It makes me sad.

I'll be making a Birthday cake for Jesus, as usual this year. I think he should get the props he deserves, and that's my little contribution. Yay Jesus! Yay cake!