The Story of Dear Ol’ Mom and Dad

Once upon a time, what seems to be a long, long, LONG time ago, on a peaceful Midwestern college campus, two freshman moved into a dormitory. They were several floors apart, gender separation and all, but they somehow were destined to meet on move-in day.

These two freshman started hanging out in large groups of floor mates and doing typical college things. Like studying and hanging out at the library. Or, you know, not really either of those and opting instead for beer. Slowly these larger groups dwindled down as personalities and activity preferences were hashed out and these two freshman discovered they seriously enjoyed the night-owl tendencies of the other.

Boy (apparently) had a crush on Girl from day one. Girl was oblivious, not to mention chasing after someone else. But that did not stop the two of them from 4am trips to Steak and Shake, shenanigans around campus or just hanging out in his air conditioned dorm room. Her room did not have such modern conveniences.

Several people who knew the two, or really everyone that knew the two, said that one day this relationship would turn into more than a late night fast food friendship. Girl laughed every time. Boy was her best friend and she considered him nothing beyond that. Boy never admitted the truth.

The two went so far as to set each other up with good friends of theirs but those set-ups never went anywhere. But it was attempted.

Freshman year came and went with lots of Beast, lots of Pizza Hut Personal Pan Pizzas, more Papa John’s and a whole lot of crazy. Girl joined a sorority (unexpected) and Boy joined a frat (expected, as it was the Animal House of the campus). People continued to waggle their finger and say SOMEDAY YOU WILL BE MARRIED.

Sophomore year came. Girl and Boy moved into their Greek houses (conveniently located three doors down from each other, not to be confused with the terrible band) and the late night shenanigans and food runs continued. Girl’s roommate forced her to watch When Harry Met Sally. Boy started to woo Girl with Arbor Mist. He was classy like that.

One night, late in the first semester, Girl got pretty blitzed. While hanging out in front of the Animal House, Girl apparently grabbed Boy, kissed him, said “I’m so glad I finally did that”, got up and walked down the street to her house. She does not remember this. But there were witnesses.

The End.

Okay, so not the end. Boy and Girl talked about it later, shrugged their shoulders and basically said “let’s see what happens”. They celebrated their first Valentine’s Day together with Taco Bell and Wayne’s World. While separated over the next summer, they each purchased a copy of When Harry Met Sally. On the same day. Without knowing. In different states. WEIRD, RIGHT?!

Two years later, their senior year, Boy buys ring from jewelry store in Feburary. Girl knows this because she worked there. Boy calls up Girl’s father to ask permission and Girl’s Dad says yes because it was April Fools Day. Dad never got the call back for prank declaration. He probably shouldn’t have said yes.

Boy proposes on April Fools Day. Girl says no. Then quickly says yes.

I guess everyone was right. They were married a year and some months later.

 

******** SPOILER ALERT ********

THAT STORY WAS ABOUT YOUR PARENTS, KID. And all that happened like a decade ago which is some scary ass shit.

And we still celebrate every other Valentine’s Day with Taco Bell and Wayne’s World. And reminisce about the good ol’ days.

Yes, Big A is sporting a lovely XS Hooters uniform. And I am getting my ass kicked in mud wrestling. #wewereawesome

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What Big A Doesn’t Know…May Shock Him

We are at the FINAL COUNTDOWN of Big A’s return and both of us are wicked crazy $%^@%3 excited about it. Even more so than when he was gone for eight months, at least for me. This one’s been tough, mainly because of Little A, obviously, but also because he had JUST finished a tour before going back out. But we had agreed that this was the best option – the other being leaving me alone with a newborn.

And that is a terrible idea.

When he left, I looked like this:

Week 17

As of a week ago, I looked like this:

Week 34

So things have changed a bit. Juuuust a little bit.

We had the following conversation yesterday (paraphrased because I can’t remember shit anymore):

AM: Ugh, this kid and his butt.
Big A: What do you mean his butt?
AM: Well, it’s either his butt or he’s got really big feet.
Big A: (doesn’t get it)
AM: Well, his head is down and to the right and his butt is up under my left ribs and presses out and I can feel it. It’s like the size of my palm. So it better be his butt or he’s got ginormous feet.
Big A: But…how do you know he’s head down? (He was also shocked I could tell body parts)
AM: Because the doctor told me he was and I can also feel his hiccups right above my right hip, where his face would be.
Big A: WHAT. THAT IS CREEPY.
AM: YOU’RE TELLING ME.

He’s in for it the first time he sees the alien wave of fetal movement from across the room. Because that’s some scary shit right there.

Side story about hiccups: A few years ago a coworker was pregnant and the fetus got the hiccups and made her belly jump. It was the first time I had ever seen a belly MOVE ON ITS OWN and I definitely ran from her office, down the hallway and back to my desk screaming. In heels. Fast forward and here I make my own semi-uncomfortable-with-the-idea coworker put her hand on my stomach so she could feel them. Her reaction was less intense than bolting down a hallway, but I still creeped her out. And I was proud.

I also told Big A it’s now a race between him and my belly button. I don’t know if it can stay an innie until his return. We are edging closer and closer to the turkey timer territory.

Which is quite nearly literal. He is almost fully baked.

I hope he comes with stuffing. Stuffing is my favorite.

Parenting According to Big A

So I’m a little hopped up on (approved) cold meds and fruit juice and was just energetically ranting and raving to Big A about all the stuff we have to do and learn in a short time. Having never really dealt with babies and hearing a lot of semi-horror stories, I was not buying into his tale of all-they-do-is-eat-sleep-and-poop. BUT WHAT IF I DROP HIM OR MESS HIM UP SOME HOW?

His cool-headed response?

“You know how many idiots raise babies? All we have to do is keep it alive. He won’t be a douche because we aren’t douchebags.”

Words to parent by. Thanks, honey. I feel better already.

Deuce

Dear $@# Baby.

Your father informed me the other day that he wants to nickname you “Deuce”. I think he was referring to you being male and probably being named Little A, making you a second, to which he would change to Deuce. If you’re female, apologies, because that still may be your name. Your father can be a stubborn SOB.

My immediate response was “But what if you drop him?” We may watch too much Family Guy.

I’ll try to stop him, Kid, but you may be outta luck on this one.