What Is It With Mothers and Coats?

Coworker: Make sure you’re bundled up because it’s cold enough that the baby can feel it.

Reeeeeeeeally.

The baby has me as a coat. I think she’s fine.

So here’s the deal: I hate wearing coats in the car. They make me feel confined.

Plus…you can’t put your arms down.

If I’m walking 30 feet to my car, I often don’t put a coat on.

The same is true of exiting my car. Unless it’s super windy or snowing, I’m not wearing my coat to walk 30 feet to the building I work in.

I’ve always run hot. Because that comes from my dad’s side of the family, my own mom struggled with this. Here was her coat evolution:

• Put on your coat and gloves on.
• Put your coat on and put gloves in the pockets.
• Zip it up.
• Zip it up all the way!
• Where’s your coat? Why aren’t you wearing it?
• Fine. You don’t have to wear a coat, but you do have to put it in the car in case you get stuck somewhere.*

*You’ll notice there is no mention of hats. Hats were a lost cause.

And that’s how I’ve rolled ever since. I may not be wearing a coat, but I always have one.

Will I make the baby wear a coat? Of course. But not while she’s still in my tummy. That’s just overkill.

How to Get Pregnant: Buy a Too-Small Dress

When I bought my wedding dress, I was not pregnant. Therefore, I was able to squeeze my then-tiny-self into a size 6. It was snug, but it worked. It was also the only size available.

Then…I got pregnant.

I’m sure I got pregnant because I bought a small wedding dress. If the store had had a size 8, I’d have bought that, and I can pretty much guarantee I would not have gotten pregnant.

This pregnancy is in no way related to Kiefer and I using the “whatever happens happens” birth control method. Obviously not related.

When my mom and I went to my first alterations appointment, the seamstress alluded that my dress might not be able to be let out enough to accomodate my changing body. Or as my mom put it on the ride home…

Mom: Thoughtsy, your breasts will not fit in that dress if they get any bigger. And they’re gonna get bigger. You may want to look for a backup dress. Otherwise you’re going to be scrambling for a new dress 3 weeks before your wedding.

What my dress may look like on my wedding day.

My response? I called Kiefer.

Thoughtsy: Kiefer, my mom just called me fat.

 What’s interesting about this is that my dad also called me fat. After Kiefer and I told my dad I was pregnant, he told my mom…

Thoughtsy’s Dad: I thought she might be. When we picked her up from the airport, she wasn’t as anorexic looking as she usually is.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I would have played a game called who can eat cake fastest without a fork. This would give me an excuse to face plant cake in public like I do in private….”—BlissfulBritt

Chocolate Challenge: Sleep Around

Remember how I’m taking the Chocolate Challenge and doing everything the chocolate tells me to do?

Now my mom is joining in on the fun.

She came over for dinner, and afterwards…

Thoughtsy’s Mom: May I have one of your chocolates?

Thoughtsy: Sure. But save the wrapper. You need to do whatever it tells you to do.

Thoughtsy’s Mom: ::unwraps chocolate and pops it in her mouth::

Thoughtsy: What does it say?

Indulge in dark.

Thoughtsy’s Mom: “Indulge in dark.” What does that mean?

Thoughtsy: It means…you have to sleep with a Black man.

Thoughtsy’s Mom: ?????

Thoughtsy: It’s ok. I can take this one for you.

I Locked Cupcakes in the Car and Didn’t Crack the Window

A few weeks ago, I locked my keys in the car. At work. Oops.

Luckily, my mom has an extra key. Unluckily, I work for the Special Forces, so there’s too much hassle security involved for her to bring me the key.

Cupcake Dangler (CD): Where are the cupcakes you baked?

Me: In my car. For safekeeping. With my keys.

I was going to walk to meet my mom because it’s only a mile off post. And then CD offered to drive me because he really wanted a cupcake.

Once we reached the key drop-off point, I called my mom from CD’s phone (because mine was locked in my car) to see where she was.

Me: Someone from work was nice enough to drive me….

CD: “Someone from work?” I’m hurt. I don’t get to meet your mom?

Me: I can’t tell my mom it was you!  Then she’ll save your phone number, and you’ll get random texts from her asking if I’m ok if she can’t get ahold of me. And that’s embarrassing.

Then later that day, my mom texted me this:

Mom: Was that him?

Me: Yep. Don’t save his phone number, ok?

Mom: Too late.

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “This is eery. I JUST told my family I wanted eyelash extensions for Mother’s Day, and they laughed and laughed. And then laughed some more. Fuckers. I’m showing them all this post.”—Carmen

You Have to Kiss a Lot of Frogs

I read over on I Like Boys Who Wear Glasses that Cosmo says you have to kiss 22 guys before you find Mr. Right.

22? Seriously? I’m not there yet. I got my first kiss when I was in 5th grade, which I’m not sure even counted. So I didn’t get my first real kiss until I was 16. I can’t believe I wasted time like that.

And all those long-term relationships? More wasted time and kisses. Geez…I could have been married years ago if only I’d puckered up more.

I just counted, and I’ve kissed 16 guys. 16.

Uh-oh…I think I just lost a follower…they probably think I’m a whore.

Anyways….Anyone want to volunteer for numbers 17-21? (There goes another follower.) Nothing serious.  I just need to kiss you, so I can find Mr. Right.

I’ll even let you pick a flavor.

How old were you when you got your first kiss? Did you have to kiss 22 people to find your partner?

Favorite Comment From Last Post: “I will eat you and everything that you hold dear if you don’t let me keep my bed.”—Kerrigan Sloan