Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Scrambled Toast


A couple days ago my sister Page came down and we started talking about complicated things because heaven forbid we couldn't just have a conversation about burritos. Actually, today my brother Matt and I had a texting conversation about burritos wherein we decided to agree to disagree (Cafe Rio vs. Mountain West Burrito--let's get ready to rumble!). Anyway, if Page and I were to start discussing burritos it would end up in an analysis of how an unactualized person can "wrap" themselves around a dishonest lifestyle in an attempt to "smother" themselves in a alternate reality only to arrive at some point in adulthood as a disillusioned, manipulated, manipulative, non-functioning human "bean."

Wake up! I am NOT DONE WITH THIS POST.

I'll make this snappy. So Page and I came to some wonderful conclusion, I guess, because she texted me a little later and asked me what word we had decided on to nail the conclusion in its decided coffin. And I couldn't even remember the conversation. Could not recall it at all. Blank slate, gray matter.

This means I am pregnant.

This morning I woke up and stared into the loving eyes of my closet looking at all the colors and patterns. It was during this hazy gaze an unseen angel injected my spirit with NESTING! In a split second's time I was up and sorting through my closet like I was doing the doggie paddle in the neighbors pool. My hands were deciphering which clothes would accommodate a nursing lifestyle. See, nobody told me it is a NURSING LIFESTYLE you live when you decide to breast feed your suckling. (Don't tell me to not type the word suckling.) I was once a VEGAN and being a vegan takes as much dedication as being a NURSING MOTHER. You can't wear certain clothes, you can't eat certain foods, you can't go certain places (to the theater for one) because you have dedicated your life to nursing. Or being vegan. If you don't believe me ask Bill Clinton. I think he's done both.

And one more thing, I lost a lot of weight being vegan but with nursing I gain it. So you know where I am going with this don't you? Both require NEW WARDROBES!

"Chup!" I said, "Wake up! I'm nesting."

I don't know why he had to wake up for this declaration, but he rubbed his eyes and turned over in my direction.

"I won't be able to wear muu-muus while I am nursing," I said flopping muu-muu after muu-muu onto the bed. (This is because there is no easy access to the chest with a *proper muu-muu).

"Darn," he grumbled back. Chup likes sarcasm with his scrambled eggs and toast breakfast.

But you know what? A couple hours later I took Ever for a walk in the September sunshine and her nose started to run so you know what I did? I took the hem of my muu-muu and wiped her nose. Which was not a big deal because yards and yards of fabric make up a *proper muu-muu and a little snot makes no difference in the sea of cottony floral. Then, when we came back home I threw that muu-muu down the laundry chute and put on a new one.

You can't do that with a sweater, suckling.

Suckling! Was that the word Page was looking for?

S'cuse, I've got to make a phone call.


*a proper muu-muu (& its desired effect!)





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