Blogging has been the furthest thing from my mind lately. Between the nonstop yacking and the cloud of panicked doom I have been grumbling around under I’ve been just barely hanging onto a little fiber of strength that allows me to perform the  most basic functions necessary to existence. Freaking babies! I keep thinking about all the little parts inside of me right now and getting all skeezed out. So much squirm potential.

Now for a quick tale.

Once upon a time there was a girl who was super annoyed so proud that her husband traveled so much for work that she forced him to take her on was lovingly invited to accompany him on one of his trips to Florida. Ditching their child as fast as humanely possible Bidding a tearful farewell to their evil demon toddler energetic little one, the girl hopped on the plane and headed to the sunny south where she proceeded to day drink herself into oblivion and drunk eat piles of nachos take in the culture and local cuisine. After about 15 IPAs and a sunburn from passing out in the sand a day full of Floridian adventure the girl stumbled enjoyed a walk back to the hotel and essentially coerced/forced her husband into having marital relations made love with her husband as the sun sunk below the sea. She then immediately passed out facedown and still full of sand fell into a blissful and happy sleep and her husband gave her a disdainful glance and went back to answering emails and conference calls thought to himself, what a lucky man I am! This fateful, romantic evening resulted in the conception of not one, but two monster spawn little additions to this perfect family, and what a journey it will be!

The scene of the crime:

Ahhh. We were so happy and dumb back then.

Of course at first we didn’t know it was double trouble, and were just excited to find out we were pregnant again. I felt like crap on Easter but took a test and was disappointed when it said that my Easter eggs were just hard boiled and not fertilized, but then a few days later Sister Red River had still not came a’courting so I took another test and got a big fat positive. Yippee! I knew I had been feeling like hot, wet, garbage trash. I made a little card for Papa Bear and we celebrated with our beverages of choice.

With this being my 3rd pregnancy in 2 years I am now obviously a pro and also having weathered a miscarriage I also have zero expectations for this pregnancy and have accepted a “what will be” peaceful, glowing mantra that is only darkened by the nearly constant barfing and fatigue so intense I feel it deep into the depths of my soul. As the weeks went on and I just felt crappier and crappier I started to think that maybe this meant that I was going to have a boy since my sickness when I was pregnant with Olivia would not even have registered on the scale of whatever madness this is. A boy! That would be great. One of each and done.

And then shit took a little turn.

For the longest time I have been fascinated/alarmed with these pregnancy “clinics” that pop up around cities and advertise free ultrasound and pregnancy option counseling, but inside their doors have a very specific agenda to push on unsuspecting, vulnerable women, and I have always wanted to go to one as a “patient” and hear their spiel firsthand. So a few weeks after finding out I was pregnant and that this one was sticking so far, I made my appointment and showed up with a full bladder and open ears and heard exactly the kind of nonsense that I’ve read about and heard from people who have had visits at one of these facilities but literally couldn’t believe was being sold to me as truth and medical “facts”.  Unplanned/mistimed/unwanted pregnancies carry enough weight for women the very last thing that they need is blatant lies to further convolute the things they are already struggling with, so my visit was already leaving me with a sour taste in my mouth before we even got to the ultrasound. And then the grand finale – an ultrasound that revealed not one, but two little blobs on the screen. At only about 8 weeks pregnant the abdominal ultrasounds that are performed at these facilities in no way are as accurate when it comes to details and dating as a transvaginal ultrasound so I was immediately skeptical at the images on the screen, which now I realize was truly just full on denial taking hold of me and starting to strangle me to death. I hopped off the table before the lady could even wipe off the goop and I sprinted as fast as my little hooves would clomp along to where one of my gal pals was working and had my pants off before I was even in the door begging her to do a quick transvag and promise me there was just one little alien on the inside. And then, much to her entertainment and my dismay, she located 2 little beating hearts inside of two little schmears. Hot. Diggity. Damn.

Of course Gates was out of town yet again somewhere in cajun country plugging numbers into Excel and getting that good hotel sleep so I had to sit on this news solo like a chubby goose abandoned by her gander until his return to the coop. He was welcomed home with this sign:

There is a video but it has muchas potty words so I will spare the masses. Needless to say, he is all excited like a jerk leaving me to catastrophize and wallow in a lonely manner. I can barely handle the one kid that is already living at my house for free and without any respect for basic decorum, running around with her pajamas unzipped and hands stuffed full of blueberries and chesses, playing in the toilet and screaming for me whenever I attempt to slip away for literally ONE second of solitude.

Besides telling ol’ Gatesy I was most looking forward to sharing this grand news with my parents, who have been having quite the year filled with death and illness and rude stuff and also dumb stuff, so it was easy to swallow down the never ending vomit and replace it with giddiness on the day we were driving to surprise them for the weekend. There was bad weather that morning but then the sun broke through and what do you know, a double rainbow appeared. I’m not a big believer in signs but seriously?!

We rolled up to my brother’s house that evening where the rest of my family was already gathered, after James and Uli flew in from Austin as a surprise and Tony made a rare appearance from the underbelly of Lacrosse. Katherine met us outside and we handed over Olivia so when she walked back inside my parents did a double take trying to figure out how the tiny gremlin had appeared. Then we marched in and after the initial tears and huzzahs we handed my dad this card:

Dad reading this card was truly one of the most memorable moments of my life. So. Much. Fun.

Telling people about the twins has been fabulous, since I’m a big fan of the shock and awe experience. We’ve run a gamut of responses from happy tears, goosebumps, screams, cackles of hilarity/gratefulness it is not themselves in this predicament, stunned silence, dropped jaws, to a couple of “You’re SO lucky”s and “OMG”s and “Ew”s and a small splattering of “You’re going to get so fat”s, and all responses are welcomed and acceptable because I am also feeling all of those things. The most interesting thing so far to me is how many people have immediately asked after hearing the news, “Are they natural?”

First of all, no, one is made of a polymer blend and strips of rubber. And second of all WHAT. What difference does that make? Who cares? Need to think of more clever responses because I’ve been so crank lately I think being a dick to nosy folk will bring me much joy. And for the record the only thing “unnatural” about this gruesome twosome is that I was a delightfully orangey color during conception thanks to a recent spray tan.

Here we go again!

Your only child days are limited little love bug! Time to grow up! Be responsible! Rub some dirt in it! Kidding, you can literally do whatever you want because chances are you won’t be getting a lick of actual attention starting this fall until indefinitely.

 

And lastly: