I Have Not Gone Away

Hello everyone,

Wow!!! I am so impressed by the amount of traffic I keep receiving here on Memoirs even though I have not posted in so very long. Thank you for enjoying this insane time of my life and taking the time out of your lives to share it with me.

I have been finishing the blog in a book. I had to sit down and decide how to approach the rest of my story. Because the blog had to be written every night it was not giving me enough time for the inflection I needed to hit on the hard, more serious subjects that are to be addressed in the second half of this story.

To be fair to my audience and to keep the quality of my experiences exact, I needed to do it this way.

Thank you for your patience. I promise to keep you informed on my progress and it will certainly be worth the wait.

In love and light,
The Jez

Will Post Soon

Hey everyone,

Life has been crazy the past few weeks. I have some big decisions to make and the blog had to be put on hold...even Antichrist is upset that I havent been able to post. Please try to understand as I work through some things.

I will post again soon. In the meantime you can join me on my radio show live on Monday mornings 10 CST at www.30radio.org. You can also get podcasts of past shows there as well.

Peace and love to you all,
R

Ninety: It Comes With The Territory

Its no surprise that Antichrist is paying us a visit. He complains that his knees prevent him from walking up any stairs. We have ascertained that his handicap is of the selective nature.

In the event that he must provide help carrying groceries, walking the dogs, or dropping off checks, he simply hasn't the ability or mobility to do so. In the event that...

A. I have scored huge amounts of loot that he doesn't have to pay for.

B. He must assess inventory of huge amount of loot or..as always

C. There is an open sign on a strip club door moniker

then Antichrist will hop skip and jump said handicap legs in vigorous fashion every step of the way.

I suppose a better idea for his physical therapist would be to place a naked ass equipped with g-string and gyrating butt cheeks at the top of two flights of stairs, hand Antichrist a stack of ones and say...GO! That should rehab Antichrist in about two days...or at least by the time the money runs out...downright miraculous!

He struts inside my house and his eyes delight in the amount of shower gifts that lay strewn about the floor. Mom tells him there is more in the car. She shouldve told him there were g-strings and five dollar bills included because he not so much as lifted a finger to get them. He couldn't bear to walk those stairs one more time.

He sits down in my rocker next to the crib and places his legs on the rocking ottoman. He leans back and he begins rocking.

Antichrist....This is great!

Mom and I look at each other and wonder what's so great. He complies with a response without our asking.

Antichrist.....What are you going to do with this thing? If you're not going to use it, I would like to have it.

We look at each other as he rocks back and forth with his eyes closed shut. We wait for him to figure it out. We wait...we wait...we are still waiting and then.....

Antichrist....Ohhhhhh, its for the baby. I get it. To rock the baby.

I never said he was a rocket scientist.

He proceeds to ask all kinds of questions as he takes inventory of our shower loot. His questions mainly consist of "whats this for" and "whats that for." I have to say at least he was curious....its progress.

After he is filled in on all the details of each item he will not have to provide for the baby himself, he asks, "so whats left then?"

Me.....Well, putting it all together. The armoire, the changing table, everything has to be ready.

Antichrist....And, youre very good at that.

(Mom and I both roll our eyes).

Me.....Of course I am.

Antichrist....Well, I'll get out of your way. Its been a long day and I need sleep. My knees are killing me.

Me.....Of course they are. (As I stand here practically pre-eclampic, swollen, and fifty pounds heavier)

I go to the door and open it for him. This assures a speedy exit and Mom looks tempered.

He leaves. We scoff at his expense and we decide to wait until morning to organize this mess.

When we get up in the morning, we have a mission. We can do this, right? Im thankful to Dad for providing the furniture but we still have to put it together. Im thinking, as we take it all out of the boxes, that I wouldve been willing to pay the $60 assembly fee. But here we are, in the middle of my living room...no real tools...no carpentry experience...and as we attempt to decipher the directions that are in Spanish for the armoire, we begin to laugh hysterically.

So, I call Beefcake and the Christian mafia springs into action.

Within five minutes I receive a call and help is on its way. By nightfall, the armoire was in full swing except for the back part which consisted of a cardboard square that was supposed to fully cover the backside of the armoire. Without this "backing" we would have no backside for the armoire, unless you count the wall of my apartment. It was a very important piece.

Mr. Fix-it had to leave suddenly and this was the only part he couldnt finish. We assured him we could do it ourselves. He did view us with skepticism, gave us a few instructions and reluctantly left us alone with "his" armoire.

Mom and I cased the situation.

Mom.....What are these things?

Me......He said they were staples. We use them to secure this cardboard thingy to the back of the armoire thingy.

Mom......Thats alot of thingys.

Me.....Thats what she said.

And we laughed our way to a miserably stapled and very insecure armoire backing, I learned to be extremely gentle with what I set against the back of that armoire for several years to come. But, hey...it looked pretty, right?

We did solicit our downstairs neighbor and her boyfriend to put together the changing table. With all those drawers, I knew we needed professionals or my child would end up in a rebellious pile of particle board after the first few changes.

The two of them had that changing table up and ready within an hour. Mom and I stood in amazement and overwhelming gratitude as we hugged them both and parted ways. I also realized I had heard nothing from Antichrist in almost a day and a half...no surprise there.

As the weeks rolled on so did my growing tummy. At one point I went three days with absolutely no sleep. NO SLEEP! Until I collapsed and slept for two days. After my mom left, I spent a great deal of time alone.

I still made it to church but wasnt able to make it to midweek services. This caused a little bit of controversy but luckily for me my Christian posse covered for my absence. You cant quit going unless your dying...thankfully, in my case...giving life became a good enough reason.

Also, during that last month, the Church felt it would be a good idea for me to earn some extra money and get some experience babysitting an actual baby.

Lima Bean's son was almost three months old. She felt it would be a great opportunity for me to gain baby knowledge and for her to catch a break.

"Sure," I said...."how hard can it be????"

So, I was to report to Lima Beans house promptly at nine in the morning and she would return promptly at noon.

I arrived promptly, she left promptly and thirty minutes into baby hell I prayed she'd return promptly.

How we have kept our human civilization around this long is beyond me. My first lesson in babydom had me fearing for my life and rightfully so, wondering how in the hell my mom did this.

Before she left, the baby cooed in Lima Beans arms. He looked harmless enough and so very cute.

She sat him down in this bouncy seat contraption, strapped him in it as if he were flying to the moon, told me not to worry, to burp and feed him in about thirty minutes, the bottle is in the fridge and it should be warmed for thirty seconds and to test it on my wrist, that it should be lukewarm in nature....annnnnnd....after his feeding he should be burped....annnnnnnnd for me not to forget to use the burping cloth over my shoulder.....

Lima Bean....Got it?

As my head was spinning because the human brain cannot remember more than five tasks at a time...I betrayed myself by nodding.....okay...

And, off she went.

It was then that this bouncing, beautiful, angelic baby boy quickly turned into the spawn of Satan.

I was in deep do-do, so to speak and I still had three hours to go....holy hell!

Eighty Nine: In the Home Stretch

The night at Roy's went smoothly except for the fact that my sister is married to Antichrist's best friend and the two of them stay mum on all subjects regarding him. RMO thinks Antichrist is a top notch human being...always there for his "bros." I say he's also always there for his "ho's"...hence the reason I left him. My sister keeps her opinions to herself. You would think, seeing as though she was raised in our outspoken family, that she would have more balls...hell I'd settle for her speaking half a nipples worth in defense of me...she doesn't.

Somehow, I believe she got a sick satisfaction from Antichrists behavior towards me. She never will get over the time I locked her in the closet as a kid...or when I tossed her in the clothes dryer...and there was that one time I left her on the roof of our house after dark...okay..so shes bitter. Life's a bitch. Doesn't mean you have to be one forever.

Mom and I make it through dinner and I am quite surprised when RMO actually picked up the tab. I explain to them that a movie is out of the question and that I desperately wish to go home to bed. Plus, I have church in the morning. I cant miss that especially after the extravagant baby shower. I am still reeling over that one.

When Mom and I get home, even though we are tired, we decide to go through some of the gifts. Its collective insanity.

The gadgets that are in the world today to make babydom easier are phenomenal. Mom was overwhelmed. After she read the rules and regulations of the car seat...how it had to be placed in the car, how exactly it had to be installed, how heavy or old the baby had to be before you could face the seat forward, blah blah freakin blah...mom looked at me and said....

"I just threw you in the backseat without a seat belt. I used to bottle feed you while I drove you to your doctors appointments. I drank massive amounts of wine and breast fed your sister." (that explains that)

Me....Wow, was knife throwing and fire swallowing my recess activity?

Mom...Oh please, you survived despite the fact that you were a preemie and ran away from home almost everyday when you were four.

And, I am still running away from home...a born searcher...

When I was born I was two months premature. I lived in an incubator for about a month after I was born. I weighed less than four pounds. However, the flashing red indicators of my restlessness were glowing brightly even then. In that incubator I couldn't contain myself. I tried to get out. At this stage of my ultra early life, I actually was able to pull myself up to a semi-standing position inside that glass prison. I would then bang my head on the glass. I wanted immediate freedom. I must have been in some serious confines in my previous life.

When I was finally taken to my pediatrician the doctor said to my mother...."you can never leave this child alone. If you turn your back for just a minute she will be gone." Which further explained my incubator antics.

On my grandfathers death bed, he told my incubator story for the thousandth time. Until I had a baby of my own, I never completely understood what an impressive accomplishment this was for a baby. He did. I loved him for many reasons but his belief in me that began in that incubator never waivered. He died before he could meet my daughter. So, in his honor, his name is hers as well.

As a child, I proved that pediatrician right. The second my mother turned her back or even just a shoulder, I was out the door. I recall this time in my life in spurts. Most importantly, however, I still remember what I was searching for as I ventured forth on my expeditions when I was four.

My father took me for an exploratory tour through our neighborhood one sunny afternoon. As we drove around one particular street corner, an amazing item caught the attention of my immense curiosity. In the front yard of this corner lot there was a huge grey pot adorned with colorful flowers. It looked like the type of pot witches would brew their tonics. It was gigantic, mysterious, enlightened and certainly magical in my imagination. I was reading by the time I was three so at four I must have read some influential piece of literature...aka Dr Seuss...to have had this curious pot become such a treasure for my little soul.

The second I was able to reach the doorknob without the looming interruption of moms distractions, I set out on my daily course for adventure. Each day presented me with the opportunity to find my treasure pot. Each day I was able to sneak away, I searched high and low.

As I hunted down a myriad of neighborhood streets, alone, I found another treasure. His name was God and I noticed people seemed to talk about him and to him alot. So, I suppose my journey to Him began here.

I began speaking to him as I walked one day. I asked him for advice, direction and good old fashion luck in my search for the treasure. I eventually spoke to him about my mom, my dad, my dog, my cravings for ice cream and candy bars. Why the sky was blue and why couldnt Kermit the Frog come out of the television to play. I would walk and talk, walk and talk for hours it seemed.

I never found that magical clay pot but I did find a friend who would listen to my every word even though He never spoke back. In my imagination the location of this fantastic pot was a place where dreams came true. In reality, it was the place I got lost enough to where God would have to send a happy police officer to greet me at almost the exact moment I couldn't find the strength to walk or talk anymore. Because of this coincidence I believed God did listen and I appreciated it.

The officer would greet me by name (probably because God told him too, I believed) and I would rattle off my address. He would help me into his patrol car and drive me home. My mom would be waiting on the front porch for me as we pulled into our driveway.

Mr. Happy Cop would open the door to my side of the police car and set me free. I would smile at him, mom would frown at me and no words would be spoken. Plus, I didnt really get in trouble....I mean thats certainly divine intervention, right?

Years later my mother went back to school to get her journalism degree. I was in high school by then. She was sitting in class one semester when a man beside her during class tapped her on the shoulder. He said, "I know you."

My mother, being an attractive young woman at the time merely felt this was the lamest attempt at a pick up line. So, she ignored him. He tapped her again and she turned to glare at him. He said, "It is you! You're the lady with the little girl that kept running away from home. I was the officer that brought her home everyday."

My mother was officially mortified on so many levels. She couldn't find the exact words in which to respond to his statement but acknowledged with a nod that she was in fact the mother of the runaway. The cop laughed and asked, "so how is she doing, now?"

To which my mother replied, "I haven't seen her in three days."

and they both got a good laugh.

So, basically as three generations came full circle in the living room of my apartment on the evening of my baby shower, my mother and I have another huge laugh at the reality that I survived to adulthood without all the safety devices currently strewn limb from plastic limb across my living room floor.

Then, as we attempt feats of engineering that Einstein would question in order to assemble these baby contraptions from hell we hear a familiar car engine, a car stereo blaring and a knock on the door. No surprise here. Its Antichrist.

Eighty Eight: The Baby Shower

Its not exactly peculiar that Antichrist is sitting in my parking lot at 3 o clock in the morning. I know from the past few weeks to expect the unexpected.

It freezing cold outside but he keeps sitting in his car and I keep waiting for him to walk up here...he doesn't...dang it...so I go out to him. He watches me walk towards him until I reach his window. He rolls it down.

Me....You lost?

He looks up at me and instead of getting out of the car he unlocks the passenger side for me to get in. I go around the back of the car to the passengers side and get in.

Me.....Its three in the morning. The Pony doesn't close til four.

He looks at me and rolls his eyes. He looks tired. I am tired. We both need sleep. Well, I need sleep.

Me......You gonna say something or are you just going to sit there and play Mr. Mysterious?

He still doesn't say anything. He is looking down at his hands that are resting in his lap. I don't even want to know where those hands have been tonight. If its this late and hes still up then....well....ewwwwww....image deleted...I shudder and he notices.

Antichrist....Whats wrong?

Me..... Bad sushi.

Antichrist....You ate sushi?

(No, you did...but instead I say)...

Me.....Why are you here?

Antichrist....Your baby shower is tomorrow and its Valentines Day.

Me.....Its three am on February fifteenth. Uh, you missed Valentines Day.

He reaches under his seat, pulls out a rose and hands it to me.

Antichrist....Not really.

I take the rose and smell the tip of its petals. I close my eyes and pretend to disappear into its scent. Its Valentines Day. My husband, who I am separated from and pregnant with his child, is sitting next to me. I imagine this is probably the twelfth rose....at one point he had a dozen of these. Which pisses me off. I open my eyes and he sees the angry look on my face.

Antichrist....What?

Me.....The other eleven, where are they?

It doesn't take him long to answer me because he knows what I mean which only pisses me off worse.

Antichrist....There weren't twelve.

Me......How many were there?

He shakes his head and cranks his car....classic soooooo busted behavior.

Antichrist....Here I am trying to do something nice and you treat me like this.

Me.....Yes, because clearly YOU are the victim here.(as I reference my obvious and painfully protruding pregnant belly)

Antichrist has bought me flowers three times in his entire life. The first time he bought a dozen from the flower guy on Northside Drive and Paces Ferry. The second time was for our first year anniversary, and the third time is right now.

Each time he was guilty of something. The first time, it was a girl he was "training" from the gym. The second time, our anniversary, it was the girl who was making the tights for his wresting costumes....yeah, taking "those" measurements certainly took on a life of their own. And, right now, he probably bought this rose from the girl who walks around the Pink Pony with a basket full of flowers meant to be purchased for the "girls."

I throw the rose in his face.

Me.....Pussy.

(I get out of the car and he squeals out of the parking lot. "Happy VD!!!!" I scream at him and I don't mean Valentines Day).

I go back into the house, get a drink of soy milk and crawl in bed. Mom is fast asleep and unaware of the fact that she just missed Mr. Armageddon and Pussy-gate. Plus, dog walking neighbor guy can add this one to his repertoire. I saw his light flash on and back off again in his apartment as Antichrist was speeding off.

We wake up in the morning and get ready for the shower. I have already had a few phone calls from friends and family checking in on me. I am supposed to arrive fashionably late to my shower. Apparently this is baby shower etiquette 101. Mom seems excited. I feel ready to burst at the seams.

When we get to the shower, Lima Beans culdesac is filled with cars. Man, when the church comes through, the church comes through. I am their current project and I understand this. I'm still quite humbled by this show of support, however.

We both walk in the door and camera flashes go off. There is blinding light and lots of giggling. I get a few "Christian crazy eyes" from some of the women in the church that I know but don't know. Those eyes!...they widen full as a harvest moon while simultaneously the eyebrows raise high above the middle of the forehead. They could almost be worn as a headband.

This expression is coupled with a southern accent pitched at high castration decibel levels. Phrases regularly used in conjunction with crazy eyes include, "Jesus is my Lord and Saviour", "Bless your heart", "Praise Jesus", "Oh, you poor thing",and "I will absolutely pray for them, him, her, it, etc"...

Today its just a few phrases. They include, "Heeeeeeeeeey hooooney!", "LOOOOOK at you!" and "How are yooooou?" and, yes, the words are dragged long as the Mississippi River.

This expressive gesture used to frighten me; especially when my face in its own shock would mimic this behavior as it was occurring. Now, I expect it. Now, it can sometimes feel strangely comforting. Its Googley-eyed brainwashing. I have also come to notice that the women who perform eyeball theatre are the most judgemental and insincere.

I smile and nod, hug and hey all the way to the living room. Lima Bean has a enormous cake on the table. She has graced the walls with signs and tissue paper. I have been assured that we will play no games today. I relax as soon as I see my sister and step sister. I have one "worldly" friend here as well. Its Kiwi. She sits at the dining table looking like she needs a bloody Mary....or four.

She raises her eyebrows when she sees me and then cocks one eyebrow upwards. She thinks shes in hell but that's okay because all the people here thinks shes going there. I turn to Prune and tell her to pray for Kiwi. Kiwi sees me do this and flips me off as she pretend scratches her nose. "Nice!" I mouth to her.

Everyone has a seat in the living room after scoring a few sweet treats. Lima Bean seats me up front with my mom. Lima hands me the gifts. It is overwhelming. It takes me two hours to open them all. Kiwis gift got the most attention. She gave me sexy lingerie and a pair of slippers with martinis on them. I loved them. I did get a few fake "oh, how cuuuuute" from the Christian crazy eyed crew and got a "go girl" from my sister. I look at the lingerie likes its an alien from outer space. Kiwi certainly has high hopes for me.

The baby shower has made an impact on things I no longer need to purchase. My Dad and Stepmom bought me a baby armoire and a changing table with plenty of drawers. Also, I have enough onesies and burping blankies to last me until my daughter is at least two years old. Everything is extraordinarily tiny and precious. The baby booties make you want to cry.

The one gift I received that I didn't know would touch me so was a crib accessory. It looked like a small aquarium that lit up when you turned it on. It played the most beautiful music.

As I opened this gift I had no idea how this small toy would impact my emotions and later, my memories of this time of my life. Until this day I can hear its music in my soul. I spent many nights to its song rocking, feeding and comforting my child. Before she was born I would play the music and rub my belly as she moved. I have laughed and cried to this music. That silly little toy saved me somehow out of some very dark moments. When it finally broke a few years later, a piece of me broke with it.

I had no idea how I was going to fit all of these gifts into our car. I couldn't. We actually needed two cars. Yes, it took two cars. We were all in a frenzy loading and unloading everything. Mom and I were both exhausted but there were two more events left in our day. My step sister, the artist, is a fabulous photographer. Her gift to me was a photo session at her house tonight. She told me to bring a few outfits that I felt sexy in and show up at her house around four thirty. HA! Sexy...that's hysterical.

I had just enough time to get my clothes together and make it to her house by then. She had a studio set up with a backdrop and lighting in her living room. She had me changing, posing, changing, posing, naked, clothed, half naked, wrapped up, practically tied up and exhausted by the time we all had to meet my other sister and her husband, Rocky Mountain Oyster, for dinner. My mom even took a few pics with me. My step sister took about eight rolls of film, handed them to me and said, "I hope they turn out beautifully."

I hugged her and left for dinner. We met my sister and RMO at Roy's, a Hawaiian restaurant near Phipps Plaza in Atlanta.

One perk of pregnancy has got to be convenience. When you walk into a restaurant looking like me....HUGE!...you get seated right away. It was Valentines weekend, a Saturday night at seven o'clock...in Atlanta...Rocky Mountain Oyster (RMO) and my sister had put our names in thirty minutes prior. It was still going to be a two hour wait....Until...fat ass pregnant lady walked in and the wait crowd parted like the Red Sea as I walked towards the bar.

The hostess walked directly up to me.

Hostess Cupcake.....Are you with them?

Me.......I am.

Hostess cupcake....Come with me. I will seat you right away.

Rocky Mountain Oyster....Dang! Its like you're a rock star.

(Yeah!!!! just like that...dumb ass)....

and the day doesn't end here....no day is complete this week without a few surprises, ya know....

Update On My Status

Hello all,

I promised a blog for Monday and I may still be able to swing this but not until later on Monday, MLK's Birthday. I currently have a tummy hurtin little girl who needs my attention tonight (Sunday). Then, once I nurse her to sleep I have to prepare for my radio show that airs live at ten am on Monday mornings.

Just know I am thinking about you. As always when I write I like it to at least be semi-decent not just fill up a blog entry :)

Also, congrats to my mom who finished her second book, Hurricane House, which will be published and sold very soon. I cant wait to see the cover art.

Sincerely,
The Jez

Eighty Seven: Why Cant We All Get Along?

Sometimes you feel like a nut and sometimes you'd like to break a couple. I'm thinking I would like to slam Beefcake in the jewels Prune never lets him shine anyway.

I have to know where this is going however. He truly feels that he has some sort of authority over me...welcome to the Christian male...and for a while I let this happen. Smile, nod, cuss later.

Me....Where are you going with this?

Beefcake....I'm saying he is still your husband. He is obviously trying to come back. Are you absolutely positive that with a baby on the way you want to be alone? Divorced?

(STIGMATIZED???!!!...He absolutely better NOT be going there)

He continues....

Beefcake....God, can still save him, through you. Its not too late.

Me....TOO LATE? You say that like Im trying to catch a plane. Its not that casual. He is not ready to be a real husband, nevertheless a father to this child. However, are you suggesting I shouldve slept with him?

Beefcake....I'm simply making the observation that if he is still seeing you in "that" way, its a good thing, its hopeful. God can do anything.

Me......He could see a hole in a tree stump in "that" way, its doesn't prove anything. Its carnal not spiritual. That man gets more ass than a car seat. You think God is helping him "do" that?

Beefcake....You don't feel that he still has certain rights to your body? You are still married in Gods eyes?

(What the hell did he just say???!!!!)

Me....Are you implying that I owe that sonofabitch a booty call just because he shows up at my doorstep and I happen to be married to him? I do not, nor have I ever, really considered him a man in this relationship. You better check yourself before you wreck yourself. I am bound to no one other than the blessed gift inside my womb and YOU should be ashamed of yourself implying anything otherwise. Somebody having rights over me, of all the typical male dominated, idiotic, sadomasochistic, bone headed, counterproductive freakin things to say! I swear if

(He stops me quickly. This is one of the first arguments Ive almost had with Beefcake. He is the one that understands me the most so I am extremely disappointed in this blatant condescending BS hes attempting to cover me in...oh wait...I get it...somebodys frustrated with women today...OHHHHHHH!!! Dang it Prune, SCREW YOUR HUSBAND SO HE'LL QUIT SCREWING WITH ME!!!! I think he realises this is the root of his issue, too)

Beefcake....You know what, you're right. I am sorry. Things are different for you. He never did earn his right to be your husband or have authority. He never sheltered you. You had your own money and he spent your money and his. He didn't take care of you. He never comforted you and he has caused you irreversible harm. He wont even take responsiblity for you or his child. I am very sorry, please accept my apology. Its been a hard week.

(Still not good with that word "authority" here...but, I feel his pain)....

Me....I accept. Anything you need to talk about? You know you can tell me anything.

(I know Prune is close. She always is so he wont confide in me. But, then again, I understand him. He doesn't have to. Its sad, really.)

Beefcake....No, I will see you on Sunday at church. We have missed you at midweek but I know its been tough on you with the baby to get out at night.

Me.....I do like to be here mostly and I choose to ramble around during the day. I'll see you on Sunday, though. Plus, I will see the girls at the shower tomorrow.

Beefcake....See you then.

Me.....Yeah, sounds good.

I hang up the phone and during our conversation I have walked into the living room to talk away from moms ears. I walk into my bedroom and my mother is asleep. She could sleep through an alien invasion.

I feel like taking a bath because my back hurts. It always feels nice to soak in the tub. Plus, I need to soak the va jay jay.

I pour a nice bath, no bubbles, and grab the ice cold aloe vera out of the fridge. I have been soaking for a while when my mom walks in to pee. She scares the crap out of me as she walks in the door and we both scream.

She sits down...yes...on the toilet, after our blood curdling scream session and proceeds to converse with me. I'm in the bathtub. I'm trying to relax. I still need to put aloe on the va jay jay. My mom acts like we are hanging in the living room under normal circumstances.

Me.....Mom! I'll be out in a minute.

Mom....I have to pee, honey. Plus, look at you! Your huge! The baby has really grown honey!

(That was smooth and fabulous for my present self esteem issues).

Me.....Thanks, now I not only want you out of the bathroom but thrown over the balcony.

She laughs and follows up with...

Mom....Don't talk like that to your mother.

To which I always reply with a rolling of my eyes and we both laugh. Its our way. I'm glad shes here.

She leaves the bathroom and goes into the kitchen to get some water while I "aloe-up" and get dressed. When we walk back into the bedroom, she asks....

Mom....So what did Prune and Beefcake have to say?

Me.....Beefcake insinuated that I should reconsider whats going on in my life with Antichrist. He actually felt I should consider letting him come back just because the guy can get a hard on from the breeze of a fly fart.

Mom....What? I thought they were pro your eventual divorce. I thought the Church was supporting you in this. They helped move you away from him and now they want you to back track? What if they decide you need to go back to him?

Me....Are you kidding me? Why would they decide this? Plus, it was Beefcake that had this idea and he apologised after his condescending implication of it.

Mom....What did you say to him?

Me.....Well, I wasn't nice.

Mom....Are you two going to be okay?

Me....Now that he humbled himself, yes. Look, I'm pregnant, moody and extremely tired. Just being pregnant can excuse a woman from almost anything, right? Its the great exonerator.

(Yes, so I made up the word exonerator but it's true)

Mom....Why dont we both get some sleep. You have a huge day tomorrow.

Me....Can you use any other adjectives tonight other than huge?

She rolls over and goes to sleep, as I do...until the absolute craving from hell hit me in the middle of the night! I wanted cantaloupe, chocolate ice cream and cottage cheese...together...and I HAD to have it!!

I ran to the kitchen and I knew I had the fruit and the ice cream. I just wasnt sure about the cottage cheese...and then LAAAAAAAAA!!! in the back of the fridge there it was.

I checked the date...good to go...mixed it all together and sat down at the table....mmmmmmm...this is Gods food, baby! Nothing could ruin this decadent moment...except....maybe one thing....is that Antichrist sitting in my parking lot??? At three oclock in the morning???? You have got to be kidding me! What a day.

Well, here goes nuttin....