Nope Not Pregnant

Just Fat because I had a little surgery!!!

So, post surgery I am on my way out of the house…almost two weeks so I am only defying the doctor’s orders by one day.  Cabin fever is a bitch!  I venture out to the pool, by myself!! Yes by myself.  I feel a bit like a moose since the surgery was in the tummy area so I am swollen and not at all comfy in a bathing suit.  I had a couple of errands to run first so I threw on my cover up, jumped in the truck and knocked them out first.  WELL enter the sad, unlucky bastard that thought he could help me from the mailbox to the car.  Gentlemanly thing to do, but he began this act of chivalry with the question of…” How far along are you?”  Poor guy, he had to pick the biggest bitch on the face of the earth to try and help!  Seriously though, I thought people had evolved a bit more than to ask a woman this question.  I mean damn, some of us are just plain fat!  When we see a man limping or walking slowly we don’t ask him if his balls are aching or if he is suffering from having a small penis??!!  Or if he is chaffed from the sand and salt water in the ocean!  We just figure it is his business.

I will give him the benefit of the doubt because I AM walking slowly, slumped over and holding my belly.  Breathing is hard so I am sure I look like someone who could possibly be knocked up.  Still knowing this is the worst thing that a woman can be asked, other than…”God what is wrong with you, are you on the rag or something???”  I had to let the Linda Blair in my come out!  I looked at him and said, “First of all, thank you but I do not need your help, second of all, you must be a special kind of stupid or are just a glutton for punishment because you simply DO NOT ask a woman if she is pregnant UNLESS you see a damn baby's head crowning!  Got it!  And lastly, I am NOT pregnant!"

I left him standing there looking like (and probably feeling like) he had just been bitch slapped.  I hobbled to the truck, struggled to get in, slammed the gearshift down into drive and considered reenacting a scene from Stephen Kings book/movie Christine, but I just did not have the energy.  I felt bad for a second (only a second) because he WAS just trying to be nice…but then I remembered what my doctor told me.  “We only took your uterus, so that means you will still be a bitch you will just no longer have a period.”  So go forth and continue to offend, pillage and plunder! 

In my opinion, the brotha must have had it coming.  He is a man so I am sure under his breath he called me a bitch but moved on because he knows that when it comes to a woman... a man just can’t win for losing.

 

Out of the infirmary and at home healing (home and healing...contradiction in terms???) and I think I can get more rest in the hospital than I can at home with 4 year old twins, and we all know there is NO rest in the hospital.  My orders were to go home, lie flat on by back and do NOTHING for myself for at least two weeks.  Ok cool, this mean I can still go on doing everything for everyone else?

Well it’s just wrong as rain to make a woman who had just had her tummy cut open and her uterus fileted like a fish laugh hysterically. I looked at my very hot doctor through the haze of more medicine than should be legally allowed for a 90 pound woman. Got your attention didn’t I, yeah I am a tad bit over 90 pounds but its my story so I will tell it any damn way I want. The part that is true is that I was on enough medicine to anesthetize a damn whale and he was barking orders at me and telling me what he did in my surgery. I said doc, you can stop right there because you could tell me you pulled a family of 5, along with 4 college students out of my gut but unless they wrote down all the crap you are saying chances are I won’t remember it. But that don’t do anything for yourself statement, brilliant Dr Feelgood, I won’t long forget that one! I bet your wife says to herself the same thing I say at least once a day. “Man I wish I had a wife like me.”

Seriously, you are all doped up and the day of discharge, at least one representative from every practice that even looked at your chart comes by to talk to you. Your eyes are crossed to the point that when they water, it runs down your back and you haven’t felt your feet since they put those cute little circulation socks on you…. And they actually offer to let you take them home with you when you go???? No thanks, the goal here is to NEVER have another period but I WOULD like to continue to get laid on a regular basis and if I continue to wear these little goodies, I won’t want to screw myself! I’m just sayin So the insurgence of physicians commences. I stop paying attention after my hot doctor leaves, primarily because Nurse Ratchet rolls in with the last dose of drool juice and after that, does anything else matter? I think doctor’s should all go (one at a time of course because time is money) into one of those little sterile rooms and video tape whatever it is they have to say…like, what they did, what they found and how to go forward. Put it on a DVD to send home with you…. You know like a parting gift since they no longer stock the travel sizes of baby powder and no wet shampoo. You can go home and once off the happy pills you can pop that puppy into the machine and learn all about it. Then you can pummel them questions that freakin make sense. I guess there is no real way for them to make money off this and getting insurance to cover the cost of all the shit it takes to make the DVD means it ain't never gonna happen…so on we move.

So anyway, still recovering and the doorbell begins to ring (and doesn’t stop for days) and in comes a barrage of southern women (and a few of their husbands) bearing casseroles. This is one of the beautiful things about being southern. We have friends, family, churches and co-workers that know exactly what to do without being summoned or even told. Now you don’t have to be southern for friends and loved ones to bring sundries to you while you convalesce but they great thing southerners do, Is cook it themselves! No boxes of chicken, store bought potato salad, bottles of coke or pies from a bakery. It is all done by the faithful hands of the southern dropper off-err. Now times have changed and some do pick up items from the store (I do it when I have to…Emily Post doesn’t give a shit and that old hag is dead anyway so she is off the hook) …we are all busy, and I am not complaining about a thing. I am just sayin I can’t help but get all warm and fuzzy inside, (which doesn’t happen often but you can bet your sweet ass when it does it will be over food!) when I think about all the people who I have cooked for and who have cooked for me over the years for reasons such as birth's, death's weddings, sicknesses, surgeries and for just movin into the neighborhood. You are not really dug into the south until someone has cooked for you in your time of need, this is what keeps all you yanks from heading back over the Mason Dixon line to reside. We may drive slowly but I have never had a transplant turn a meal at my house down! You can tell a real pro by the look of use on the casserole dish ( it will be stained yellow and brown from butter and oil) and then by the piece of masking tape that is permanently stuck to the bottom said dish. It may or may not have a family name on it but that doesn’t matter because there is a designated note pad (usually by the phone) for writing dishes and descriptions of dishes, along with the name of the darlin that dropped it off. A southern woman cannot fall short in her thank you notes or she just may find herself dropped off the next sick list rotation, bless her heart.  Brings me to another topic of southern cuisine.

Pimento Cheese…. God Save the Queen that is some good stuff.  Slap your momma good stuff and close the kitchen door so the dogs don't whine for it good!  A friend just told me recently of someone getting their masters in the art of being southern (and trust me it is not just an art, it is a god given geographical anointing! And if you are gonna be it, be it well…because we talk about ya!  She was writing about pimento cheese and just how southern this makes you.  I am sure I messed up her curriculum as well as her thesis and such just a bit but paraphrasing is allowed in my world.  I do not know of her writing and have never read anything by her so I will simply state MY opinion on pimento cheese and the art there in.  Every southern woman (with exception of those who don’t eat mayonnaise) knows how to make her family version of this spreadable delight.  She is also smart enough NOT to share the recipe because it is handed down from generation to generation, right along with the recipe for the red velvet cake.  It is believed that telling these recipe’s to friends, or obtaining it before someone wills it to you, will make grandmother’s all over the south turn over in their graves and put a spell on you so bad that every pie you make from then on will not set up and every cake you bake will fall!  No shit we really think that and if you have ever had a cake fall you believe it with all your heart.  I will go on record as saying that I make my own but IF it is purchased…it better meet the following criteria.  1. You are in a huge hurry and just do not have time to make it and allow it to steep the necessary amount of time, so you purchase it.  2.  IF PURCHASING, It better be Stan’s (that Ruth’s or Star’s shit should be taken off the market because its gross and contains miracle whip and processed cheese spread).  3. Finally, It had better be from the Fresh Market.  Anything else is just bad form.  You can eat it on crackers, bread, toast, burgers, stuff it in celery or with a spoon right out of the tupperware you store it in.   

Now I must run, as I have thank you notes to write and some pimento cheese to eat…because someone brought me some of the homemade kind and it has been on the counter waiting to get to the right temperature to put on two slices of white wonder bread, yep the kind that sticks to your teeth!

Peace out y'all!

A Uterus walks into a bar

My uterus is GONE but the pain is still here

I HATE my medication I would rather have a beer.

Narcotics give me hives and make me all stoned

I am SO unattractive when I snarl, drool and moan.

The pills dull the pain but I am utterly frustrated

Because more than they help, they make me constipated!

I need an enema, a suppository or a stick of dynamite

And I will need a priest and a prayer if I don’t shit tonight!

My stomach is HUGE!  I look 6 months knocked up

It hurts when I cough, puke, sneeze or hiccup!

Doc says, “Its just air, so don’t be dismayed”

REALLY?  Cause I look like a float in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade!

The gas pains are ungodly and I am as mean as a snake

If someone were to anger me I would burn them at the stake.

This shit is ridiculous and my temper is high

I could kick anyone’s ass, bare minimum make him or her cry

Granted, Nothing I do is easy and it all comes in layers

Seems surgery wasn’t enough, this game needed more players.

SOOOO my son develops a virus and his throat begins to ache

While dealing with all this our air conditioning decides to break.

Surgery, NO AIR, and a sick child in this heat?

Really??  OK Uncle, I give up, I admit defeat!

I can’t take much more I am liable to snap!

My God it’s been 8 days please allow me to crap!

Can’t they create a medication that will kill the pain?

Make you nice AND loopy but also clean out your drain?

And the kids…. well mine are awesome but I will commit hara kiri

If I have to endure one more episode of Tom and Jerry!

I have allowed entirely TO MUCH TV

In an effort to make them stop questioning me!

Why do you feel bad? Mommy tell me what is wrong?

Why is your tummy big, can I sing you a song?

When will you feel better?  Mommy where is my new fire truck?

Why are you walking funny, why did you just whisper fuuuuccck?

Everyone says I will feel better when this all settles down

When? Once my insides stop sloshing around?

They were moved and tugged and pulled and plucked,

Squeezed, tied and cut then pushed around and tucked.

I woke up with stitches, bruises and scars

My nurses were wonderful ... except for the gay one, he was a tsar!  (That bitch!!)

I puked and screamed, cried and bitched

I am not a nice patient, many a fit I have pitched!

It sucks sometimes being a woman and NO man would survive

The hell we go through, such as massive monthly bleeding and still staying alive.

To my 14 day periods, I bid you adieu

Your bullshit and visits, I simply outgrew.

All done with your PMS, cramping, bloating and bad moods

And birth control just MY responsibility? Well now that’s always been rude!

Goodbye pads and tampons, pamprin and drama

But can you give me a few years before you afflict my daughta?

SO nice to done with you in one giant swoop

Have I mentioned yet that I really need to poop?

My new lease I will use promptly you know, once I feel fine

I will eat right, work out and drink less….well now that is just plain lyin!

I will do my best and that is all I can do

But my uterus I am so damn glad to be rid of YOU!

I

At       

 Yep, Actual conversations at The Food Lion on Oak Island

 Story #1

 set-up

A mother (who couldn't have been more than 29...MAYBE 30) was shopping with her two daughters.  Daughter #1 was probably about 5 years old.  Daughter #2 was somewhere between 12-16 (and very pregnant) but I would be shocked if she was older than 13.  The cart was so full of beer and every bag of chips from the ito family that it took me a minute to realize the girls were with her.  Mom's pink dress was so short, you could see almost everything God gave her.  She did still have a pretty tight body but then again, I probably would too if I had started having children 24 hours after my mother stopped breast feeding me!  So anyway, back to the girls.  They were cute but very young.  So young they were pushing and shoving each other down one of the aisles like 5 year olds do and calling each other nicknames and giggling.  Mom was not enjoying this action between her "youngins"  The rest is how the conversation went.

Daughter #1:  Goofball (pushes sister into the basket of Oak Island koozies) giggle, giggle, giggle.

Daughter #2:  Pick um up you Poopface, turdball! (belly roll laugh) 

Mom:  Y'all need to stop that messin now!

Girls:  laugh, giggle, push each other.  More nick names 

Mom:  I done told you two to cut it out now cut it OUT!

Daughter #1:  Stop it before momma pops us, now I mean it cause you started it!

Daughter #2:  Did not and she ain't gon pop me cause of this (points to tummy) so you shut up turd face!

Daughter #1: opens mouth to start a comment back...

Mom:  Jerks cart to a HALT!  Drags both girls over to edge of the aisle (by the pregnancy tests, tampons and condoms).  Points a long finger with sculptured nails (yes they were airbrushed with designs) at her two daughters and SCREAMS.........

Now look you little bitches, I done told y'all to cut the shit out.  (points to the daughter #2 and gets in her face) I ain't gonna hit a pregnant girl BUT (now pointing at Daughter #1 and getting in her face) I WILL beat the SHIT outta you...do you hear me?  I said to you hear me?  huh?

Girls:  yes momma we heard ya.

All three together: laugh and then move the cart to continue shopping.

Mom:  Good now both of ya go to the damn car before I really get mad!

Did I mention that none of them had any shoes on?  Gotta love North Carolina at the Food Lion.

Story #2

 set-up

While standing in line to check out about 30 minutes later.  I see a man in the lane just in front of me. He looks as though he has not slept inside anything with indoor plumbing since September 11th, yes THE september 11th!  He stinks (because I am down wind) a stink of beer, sweat, dirty ass and cigarette smoke.  His teeth were beige and looked like the ones that were wittled for George Washington (can you still find Camel's with no filter??).  His fingernails were yellow and thick, like corn chips and he looked about as simple as simple can get.  His socks did not match, one was white and one was brown.  He is in the 12 items or less lane and I am in the I am obviously from out of town because I bought one of everything in here lane.  He turns to look at the door and starts to fidget a bit but his face goes from happy to mad to happy again.  The interchange went as follows.

man:  Hey momma, momma hey, how you doin?

mom:  (looks at him like he is crazy then yells)Don't you talk to me you sorry ass son of a bitch, what is wrong with you?  You got somethin you want, call your damn daddy.  I ain't got nothin to say to you.

man:  (Looks at me because he knows I witnessed the love between a mother and son.)  Well, I reckon she is havin another one of her spells, she is kinda prickly when she don't eat!!

I finished paying for my groceries and left shaking my head and wondering how I always wind up seeing and hearing the strangest things.

Each time I leave a Food Lion, I look around to see if I am on Candid Camera!  Not sure why, but it still amazes me that people say and do some of the damndest things in front of me!  But hell, the Food Lion is full of good material... no matter what town you are in!

 

For my daughter on a difficult day

Threatening to run way is a rite of passage for all little girls, at least from what I am told. I just thought I had about 5-10 more years before I had to cross this bridge.  I did it, my mom did it and everyone I talk to has a child who did it and a mommy with a story of laughter, tears and a heart that grew larger as it was breaking.  Mothers and daughters love each other in a special way, maybe its because we see so much of ourselves in each other.  I don't know, but I do know at only 4 years of age, that my daughter is going to be an amazing woman some day.  Children are a gift to us, on loan from God to raise into good, strong, self confident people who will hopefully choose to give back much more than they were given.  They learn by example.  If you have children, be good to them and love them, wisely but without limits.  Allow them to become the people they were meant to become with the unconditional support and acceptance that only a parent can give.   I am embracing and enjoying every bump, turn and stall of this ride I will take along side them.  Even though raising children is like being nibbled to death by ducks!

To my daughter the day you ran away.  (Its ok, you never actually left)

We had a big fight today, the worst one yet,

I am not sure what started it, a hard day I guess.

We argued and screamed until we both cried

I wanted to make it better for you and I promise I tried.

We retreated to our corners and didn’t speak for hours

When we passed in the hallway, we transferred barbs and scowls.

The words that were said were painful to hear

They hurt leaving our mouths and they attacked our ears.

I remember your face as I made several comments, the ones that made you flinch

You fought with strength of a well thought out plan, dug in without moving an inch.

Loving each other is a difficult task, not an easy promise to keep

But love is a powerful tie that binds and in families, it runs oceans deep.

We hurt the ones we love the most because we feel comfortable, safe and secure

I know this is only the beginning of what a mommy must endure

This tantrum was you testing limits and how far I would let you go

To see if you could push the buttons, that you already so very well know.

I made a vow when I saw your face

That I would love you forever, beyond time and space

I have not wavered and am truly amazed

How it grows stronger and stronger with every phase.

Today while angry you said you were leaving and you were determined to go.

I knew it would come but it still bothered me more than I could show.

We all want to leave sometime and it usually comes to packing

Before we realize wherever we go will certainly be lacking

A person to be there, to wipe away tears,

To come when you call and extinguish your fears.

I sat down and cried while I listened to you fumble

In your room packing bags, while you angrily grumbled.

I did it when I was young, but decided to stay

When I looked back at home moving distantly away.

I welcomed you back as my mother did me

Because I will want you with me, for all eternity

Strong, kind and confident, bright, and beautiful are you

I hold in my heart a love that withstands anything you do.

I hurt when you hurt and your precociousness takes my breath

Worry and fear are malignant, and when you are sick I die a thousand deaths

One day you will grow up and go out into the world

But for now you are mommy’s precious little girl.

What you did today made me love you even more

My darling girl you ran away from home and you are only 4!

The school year is drawing to an end (one more day).  I am both ecstatic to be with my babies all day and scared shitless to be with my babies all day.  What are we going to do all day???  They can smell fear so I know they are gonna eat me up like catfish!!!  I have always worked outside the home.  I hate that one don’t you?  “Working outside the home,” implies that you are a gardener.  Nothing wrong with a gardener but when someone says I work outside the home I want to ask them, doing what, selling lemonade, sending out emails from the front porch?   I also hate the title of “working mother.”  Is there any other kind?   I mean really.  We all know that mothers work like Hebrew slaves so as far as I am concerned, where they do it is just geography.  Staying home is much harder than I ever expected and is more challenging than anything I ever encountered while in my corporate career(s).   But then again, my children are a lot more intelligent than some of the people I worked for(well ok just one of the people I worked for) so they demand actual results from me rather than bullshit.  Nothing like a coupling of 4 year olds to call you to the carpet for something you did or didn’t do!  They forget nothing!  How is that?  I cannot remember where I left my keys and I don't call my husband head wound Harry for nothing but somehow they NEVER forget, even the most obscure things.  “Mommy what day is it?”  “It is Thursday sweetheart, all day long.”  “On Saturday you told me I could take my Lego girl that rides the horse to school on Thursday and that you would find her helmet and have her ready for me, so where is she?”  What?  Are they doing this just to f**k with me, to see if I really suck at follow through(if I was ever capable of holding a job) or is this a bon a fide request?  Lets catch mommy in a snag and see if we can make her feel old, crazy and useless, along with losing her mind first thing in the morning.  She hit me with this before coffee!  Not fair by any stretch, I cannot possibly solve the problems of a 4 year old before coffee.  I cannot even pee before coffee and if they made me touch that oil rig before coffee, I would be the one on trial for that colossal screw up.  So back to it, “Mommy, where is the Lego girl?”  “Sugar, I have no idea where she is, she is your toy and I do not know what you did with her.”  “Mommy, listen to my words, you told me you would find her and you didn’t so you did NOT do what you said you would!  Why did you lie to me?  You disappoint me mommy!”  Well don’t I feel like a king size

I try to turn it around on them with my chest poked out and my tail feathers raised, pullin the mommy card!  “Hey, you can’t talk to mommy like that!”  To which they hit the easy button and call bullshit immediately!  “Well why not, it is the truth and you say we should always speak the truth, you forgot so you let me down, you are not suppose to forget anything, YOU are the mommy.”  Well damn, now I really feel like a massive

I do not respond but I do rub my head and realize it is going to be a long summer!  Having twins that are smarter than I am and never having been a mommy that stays at home, I am also heading into this summer trying to lose weight. Does that sound like the perfect storm or what? I did not eat enough yesterday to keep a damn worm alive and my stomach is already licking my backbone so the mood this morning is mean with a chance of bitchiness.  Like 80% chance.  I just have 5-10 pounds to lose, no big deal right?  It is the same pounds I keep losing and finding!  So I started taking these....one with my coffee.

Well they say there are NO thermogenics in them so they should not cause a nervous feeling.  So why then are my eyes bugging and why am I shaking like a paint shaker at home depot!  I tried to repaint my toenails and they look like something a crazed, opium induced artist tried to do.  Even considered cutting off my ear!  My senses are so on edge I feel like I am tweaking!  Someone speaks or moves to fast and I look at them with quick, vampire like impulses and want to bite them just for breathing.  Is this stuff suppose to make you mean because God and everyone that has met me knows I don't need any assistance in that department! New idea,  a friend told me he is trying a detox that his trainer says works like a charm on the last 5-10 pounds. So I think, screw the Dexatrim I will try this.  Then he explains... It is 4 days… I repeat 4 days of, are you ready for this????  NOTHING TO EAT OR DRINK BUT GRAPES AND WATER!!!!  WTF? is this the Cleopatra diet, no wonder that bitch was so mean! Prisoners get more than that!  crime or does anything you do during these 4 days count towards an insanity plea?  My tongue would fork, scales would develop, horns would pop out of my head, fangs would descend and 12-inch claws would creep from my fingertips. 

I would chew apart and end the life of anything around me, just for general principle!  Grapes freak me out anyway because it is one of the three foods I could eat while pregnant.  Pregnant I actually resembled the creature pictured above and was about as happy.   I heave when I pass grapes in the produce department.  For the safely of myself and others, I think I am not going to try my friends suggestion. What to do now, work out?  I have the motivation of a slug when it comes to working out to lose these final pounds.  If someone poured salt on me, it would be all over!  Like water on a witch!  Figuring I would develop motivation if I looked at some pictures of me from college, I dug out a few.  Not a CHANCE in hell you will see them posted here as a witty little illustration!  All that did was piss me off because this was back when I was built like the proverbial brick shit house and had the metabolism of a meth user.  38-21-34!  Close enough to perfect for me so why did it go away???  Because along with my lack of motivation I also have pangs for hunger CONSTANTLY!  I love food and when I am hungry I can just about eat the ass end out of a hobby horse!  I digress, as usual (why do I think I can actually come up with a short post??)  So anyway, I was a late bloomer so it was really fun to actually watch my boobs grow.  They grew like a damn chia pet, right before your very eyes!  Literally blew through bras like shit through a tin horn!  I was little in the middle but I had much top! Small waist, tiny feet..nothing grows in the shade!  A real slim waist, made up face, heads turn eyes burn when she comes in the place perfume from France put ya in a trance, fly enough to mingle TO fly to dance!!  ha ha old school rap anyone remember that???  Won bikini contests and all (redneck much?), that is when I got drunk enough to be dared to enter them.  I used to take EVERY dare, now I am old, bitter and jaded (my way of saying seasoned, smart and sensible) so being propositioned with a dare now would just make me say, beat it you tool, if I want any shit from you I will squeeze it out of you!  I have actually been drunk enough to dance, which I NEVER do because it is living proof that eventually the rhythm IS going to get you and it ain't going to be pretty!  Back to the pictures, well they just made me mad and also acutely aware the only way I would ever look like the girl in the pictures again is if I had surgery, Joan Rivers style surgery!  Not going to happen so I am actually thinking of trying the grape thing.  Tune in here later (or check the news for murders, or newspapers in the obituaries) to see how it goes!  And for the love of all things holy, pray for me this summer in regard to my stay at home status!

Inquiring minds want to know

 

I pack the bags he packs the car,

once it’s all in we’re sardines in a jar.

We start our drive home then silence goes awry

The twins pose the questions that mostly begin with why.

Why is the sky blue?  Why are we here?

Why is it hot out when it’s cold in here?

Why doesn’t my window button let me roll it down?

Mommy can you hand me my princess crown?

Are we there yet daddy?  Can we watch a dvd?

How much longer?  He is bothering me.

Why are those lines on poles by the streets?

Why is that old lady hanging up sheets?

Why is she drying them outside in the yard?

She could buy herself a dryer if you give her your check card!

Why can I still see the moon in the day

When the sun comes out isn’t it suppose to go away?

I am very hungry and I have to pee

I want to get out mommy do you hear me?

Mommy I am talking so please listen to my words

I want to get out, HEY look at all the birds!

Why are they flying why can’t they be still

Why did that oil all have to spill?

Mommy lift up your face from out of your hands

I want to tell you something! Did you bring my silly bands?

Hand me that book please, will you read it to me?

Move closer to daddy so I can see.

Why is this car ride taking so long?

Mommy stop reading and sing me a song.

I really have to pee I can’t hold it anymore

Why are we stopping here?  I want to stop at a store.

Why is it raining? What is that sound?

Is it God dropping potatoes on heavens ground?

Will the storm last long? Can you see to drive?

Mommy guess what? After 4 comes 5!

I wanna get out my butt is numb

Why do I have fingers? Do I really need thumbs?

Now I have to poop! Mommy so do I

Stop this car now or I am going to cry.

Do we have school tomorrow?  Are we there yet?

Can we play in the rain?  Will we get wet?

Why are you guys laughing?  Did we say something funny?

Can we cease and desist with questions now honey?

Mommy and daddy need quiet for a while

Didn’t you get enough quiet before you had a child?

Then we pop Mouse Cookies in the cd player

Dad takes a deep breath and I pop a Bayer. (aspirin)

It is silent for a bit.  Mommy and Daddy re-group.

We drive passed a couple in a Mercedes coupe.

They look over at us and give us a smile.

That tells us they remember but it’s been a while.

Since their drives were busy with questions and babies

Why’s, when’s and pee stops, yes no’s and maybe’s.

We realize we are lucky and we smile at each other.

Not everyone gets the chance to be a Father or a Mother.

They will be gone before we know it, how quickly they grow

So enjoy every question inquiring minds want to know!