90 and one half hours

So I was telling some friends last night that I've been trying to steer clear of my blog lately. I've been entirely too whiny and my summer gift to YOU has been to keep it to myself as much as possible.

You're welcome.

But now I have nothing to whine about. My mom gets here in t minus 24 hours. And that means life is wonderful. Good grief my mother is amazing. A saint, that one. And she's not even Catholic. But I'm pretty sure if the Catholics knew about her they'd fast-track her, like, yesterday.

What I'm saying is she deserves a Facebook fan page.

And guess what happens in 90 and a half hours? I have a baby. Now, the having part I'm not super excited about because it involves IV's (read: needles), scalpels, suction and sutures. All things I'm not a fan of, naturally. But I've accepted that this is part of how Heavenly Father made me: defective.

But I just go along with it because He has done lots of other stuff for me, too. So who am I to complain? I mean, if you don't count the last 8 months.

So, anyway, huzzah to impending fourth-time-around motherhood!

Oh What Do You Do in the Summer Time?

(Sung to the tune of Oh What do you do in the summer time?)

Oh what do you do in the summer time,

when you're big and wide and big?

Do you lay on your bed

and whine in your head

or silently curse a lot?

Is that what you do?

So do I!

 

Oh what do you do in the summer time,

when everyone else is thin.

Do you wear the same thing

but not your wedding ring

because you don't fit in it?

Is that what you do?

So do I!

 

Oh what do you do in the summer time,

when your pelvis is dislocated?

Do you waddle a lot

and sweat 'cause you're hot

and not cook for anyone?

Is that what you do?

So do I!

Shooting pigs

Having a six year-old is pretty much Heavenly Father's daily gift to ME. Everyone should, at some point in their lives, try to have a six year-old. Really. It's a worthwhile investment.

As we were driving down the road yesterday Cameron spotted a group of teenage boys walking down the sidewalk. He pointed them out to me and said, "MOM! Those boys are all by themselves without their moms!" I assured him that, since they were big, their moms were probably okay with them being by themselves. To this he responded that he couldn't wait until he was old enough to go places without me.

Insert knife. Twist.

Trying to play it off I said, "Oh yeah? Well, where do you want to go without me?"

Cam: "Somewhere so I can buy stuff."

Me: "Oh. What are you going to buy?"

Cam: "A bb gun."

Now, we had been at the pool earlier and I heard some bigger boys talking tough about their bb guns. So I just rolled my eyes at the gun reference/request.

Me: "Well, what would you do with a bb gun?"

Cam: (without missing a beat) "I would go into the forest and shoot a pig and bring it home to eat the meat."

Me: stunned silence

Me: now laughing uncontrollably

Me: So what you're saying is that you're going to bring home the bacon?

Cam: (in total seriousness). Yeah. And the pig.

 

ALLLLLLSO, during the same car trip Cameron tried to convince me that we should buy happy meals because "McDonalds does such a nice thing giving toys to kids. They're being so nice. We should buy them."

 

Anytime you want Cam to come over and say awesome stuff at your house just let me know. He's here every night.

Total Eclipse of the Heart

Sooooooo, I saw Eclipse. I got a babysitter last week and went to a matinee where Kathleen and I sat in entirely uncomfortable seats trying to ignore our back pain, contractions and loss of lung capacity.

So, you know, we had a great time. And the movie proved to be a raging success when compared to it's predecessors. Bravo, David Slade. Bravo.

But since my brain is getting all mushy and jello-like, I will turn you over to Eric D. Snider for his review, and as per the usual, his Rejected Eclipse Screenplay.

Enjoy.

 

p.s. You should also read  his Twilight and New Moon screenplays. The man is a genius.