Being stranded in Iowa whilst my sister, the Microblogologist, does her lab geek stuff and not having a bratling to occupy my time with makes an Unmarried Housewife a dull girl. You can only clean sooooo much in a day before an apartment finds itself just too clean and you're stuck with no other time-occupying cleaning. Of course usually that leads to cookie making and full course meals being planned and created but what do you think I am? Some kind of 1950's modeled housewife? Yeah I wish.
I'd so go gay for one of those... ;P
Digressing! Anyways I need a little adventure into a busy part of my rather mundane life. And so I'll listen to Mr. Peabody and entertain myself by going back in time and
Get outta here guys, you're cramping my style!
I present to you live, the Time o' Tron.
Yeah we like to live it up sometimes.
We're here! The date is November something-ish, 2008. And we find me in bed sleeping. It's been a late, late night and I went to bed a mere two hours prior. A knock upon the door woke me up from my slumbering and I was told of a phone message that was important. Instinctively I know nobody in their right mind calls me at this ungodly hour of seven a.m. and so it could only be one thing.
My best friend must've popped early.
I listen to the message confirming my suspicions. The poor girl after having one false labor, and then another stopped labor, has finally had a labor that was just too late to cancel. Those kids wanted out and nothing was going to stop them. I chatter away on the phone with not just my best friend but her mother and find out that it won't be until another six hours that I could go over there. Why not call me then? We shall never know...
Exhausted and sleep deprived I tried for a few more hours of sleep, something that I learned all too soon was not going to happen. My mind was too active once again, and everyone in the house just had to be as loud as possible. This included an appearance of none other than bratling who had to scream and whine at the top of her lungs, naturally. This was followed later by me waiting outside for my best friend's grandmother to go and pick me up. Bratling couldn't stand the idea of me leaving the house for anything and was giving me the most sad and pathetic faces and yowls for attention you could ever image from the window. By the time the nice lady came over I had a little girl clinging to me like a barnacle, crying for me to not go. I took one for the team and sacrificed my computer to make brat go back inside so I could go.
After a relatively pleasant ride I came upon a group of friends and family of our girl. Naturally they had to test my sleep deprived prowless by having me identify the guy in front of me. I made my guess and said something clever along the lines of, "Her brother?". I had a feeling I guessed wrong by the blanks stares. Someone corrected me, apparently he was her boyfriend...*
Oops. I did tell them I didn't really sleep. BFF was looking pretty good if I do say so myself. For someone who had a C-section and was drugged up, she was bright and perky. We did our hugs and talked and of course got to go down and see the kids. They were just the cutest things. Four pounds and change a piece, black haired, dark eyes, and I know they'll have a lovely natural tan from being Caucasian-Indian mixed. I told BFF she did such a nice job that she should make me a pair. Ha ha, it got me the stink eye and a weak, "can't laugh after a C-section" laugh.
It was probably afterwards whilst other of the family were visiting one at a time in the Infant-ICU that I noticed for the first time that the two women that earlier I had assumed were aunts, were not really aunts at all. You see, BFF doesn't want kids, and these miracle babies had managed to happen even with two forms of birth control and everything. She had considered abortion but found out soon enough that she just could not do it. So, like the movie "Juno", she went to pick out a family. I bet you know what I'm getting at now. Yes, these two women were who BFF picked out. They were nice, funny, and in general all around good people. My conservative Pa would have a cow, but seeing as I have a oddly large number of gay friends, I was not phased**.
The next set of days would be spent with me visiting daily for hours, up until bratlilng or Gra, whichever one it was, got me sick once more with the disease I'm carrying around with me now. Biohazards! The whole lot of them! By the time I get back from Iowa, the kids may just be living in their new home with their mommies. I should recommend blogging to them. How else will I be able to keep up so well with the mini-whelps? Besides my BFF of course. :)
----copying Microblogologist who copies LiteralDan section-----
*The first meeting with me and BFF's boyfriend involved a bar and me getting plastered. We're not going to admit that too openly. Oh! They're engaged now, so BFF's fiance is a more suitable term for modern reference.
**I could say at this point up to 40% of my friends are either bi or all out gay. My distinct lack of caring one way or another makes me the usual "first to come out to" girl. As such, any conversation that begins with: "I have something important to say to you" usually involves pregnancy or a sexual preference.
My best friend must've popped early.
I listen to the message confirming my suspicions. The poor girl after having one false labor, and then another stopped labor, has finally had a labor that was just too late to cancel. Those kids wanted out and nothing was going to stop them. I chatter away on the phone with not just my best friend but her mother and find out that it won't be until another six hours that I could go over there. Why not call me then? We shall never know...
Exhausted and sleep deprived I tried for a few more hours of sleep, something that I learned all too soon was not going to happen. My mind was too active once again, and everyone in the house just had to be as loud as possible. This included an appearance of none other than bratling who had to scream and whine at the top of her lungs, naturally. This was followed later by me waiting outside for my best friend's grandmother to go and pick me up. Bratling couldn't stand the idea of me leaving the house for anything and was giving me the most sad and pathetic faces and yowls for attention you could ever image from the window. By the time the nice lady came over I had a little girl clinging to me like a barnacle, crying for me to not go. I took one for the team and sacrificed my computer to make brat go back inside so I could go.
After a relatively pleasant ride I came upon a group of friends and family of our girl. Naturally they had to test my sleep deprived prowless by having me identify the guy in front of me. I made my guess and said something clever along the lines of, "Her brother?". I had a feeling I guessed wrong by the blanks stares. Someone corrected me, apparently he was her boyfriend...*
Oops. I did tell them I didn't really sleep. BFF was looking pretty good if I do say so myself. For someone who had a C-section and was drugged up, she was bright and perky. We did our hugs and talked and of course got to go down and see the kids. They were just the cutest things. Four pounds and change a piece, black haired, dark eyes, and I know they'll have a lovely natural tan from being Caucasian-Indian mixed. I told BFF she did such a nice job that she should make me a pair. Ha ha, it got me the stink eye and a weak, "can't laugh after a C-section" laugh.
It was probably afterwards whilst other of the family were visiting one at a time in the Infant-ICU that I noticed for the first time that the two women that earlier I had assumed were aunts, were not really aunts at all. You see, BFF doesn't want kids, and these miracle babies had managed to happen even with two forms of birth control and everything. She had considered abortion but found out soon enough that she just could not do it. So, like the movie "Juno", she went to pick out a family. I bet you know what I'm getting at now. Yes, these two women were who BFF picked out. They were nice, funny, and in general all around good people. My conservative Pa would have a cow, but seeing as I have a oddly large number of gay friends, I was not phased**.
The next set of days would be spent with me visiting daily for hours, up until bratlilng or Gra, whichever one it was, got me sick once more with the disease I'm carrying around with me now. Biohazards! The whole lot of them! By the time I get back from Iowa, the kids may just be living in their new home with their mommies. I should recommend blogging to them. How else will I be able to keep up so well with the mini-whelps? Besides my BFF of course. :)
----copying Microblogologist who copies LiteralDan section-----
*The first meeting with me and BFF's boyfriend involved a bar and me getting plastered. We're not going to admit that too openly. Oh! They're engaged now, so BFF's fiance is a more suitable term for modern reference.
**I could say at this point up to 40% of my friends are either bi or all out gay. My distinct lack of caring one way or another makes me the usual "first to come out to" girl. As such, any conversation that begins with: "I have something important to say to you" usually involves pregnancy or a sexual preference.
3 comments:
i think i would go gay to have a model 1950's super-wife also! lol i've always said i wouldn't mind toooo much sharing my hubby w/a wifey #2 as long as she didn't like sex and LOVED to cook and clean. maybe i should move us out to utah and start shopping. :)
Nonna you are the best. I laughed so hard reading that. Good thing I didn't get that milk I was going to drink until after reading your comment and not during! What a mess that would have been. Ha ha ha
They should start a blog, and post lots of pictures! Where are my cookies Wife?
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