Typically, when one thinks of a baby shower, you think of smelling melted candy in diapers, lots of “oooh”ing and “aaaah”ing and, well, general boredom. I mean, is anyone ever really excited to get an invitation to someone’s baby shower. Shit, I am pregnant and the idea doesn’t even sound good to me.

That is, until my crazy ass friends decided to throw me a shower in Cletus’ honor. You see, last time around, my friends had a blast planning a shower for me. While it was more traditional than not, the planning process included brainstorming of ideas such as a vaginal entrance to the party (symbolizing birth, of course) and decorating the place with penis sheep (photo coming soon! Who knew that it isn’t advisable to draw and email half penis/half sheep from work?).

So when the opportunity arose to throw me a shower for Cletus, don’t you know that my ladies jumped on the chance.

To give you an idea of the party, weeks before, when asked for a guest list, I was told that the shower may not be “all audience appropriate” (aka: you probably don’t want to invite children or your mom). Factoring in that this baby features new and fun genitalia to work with, I won’t lie: I was very excited and just a tad apprehensive.

Upon arriving to the shower, I was surprised to find actual balloons and not just blown up condoms sprinkled around the house. But my disappointment wouldn’t last long…

Apparently my friends had a lot of fun shopping for penis decorations. When the penis cookie cutter was purchased, the clerk asked my friend, “Ooooh! Are you making cookies or jello shots??” My friend replied, “Tea sandwiches for a baby shower…?”

Obviously, it wouldn’t be an important celebration if Guillermo, the inflatable penis (who has traveled to Mexico, Vegas, and wine tasting in Walla Walla with us), wasn’t a guest of honor. In his high chair, of course. Safety first, people.

And the pièce de résistance…

A homemade cake made by the one and only Sissy! Can you believe that she made that hospital gown (and don’t forget the tiny little penises) herself out of gum paste?! I still have the Barbie and baby sitting on my kitchen counter because I can’t bear to disassemble it! I have to say, my vag IS kind of awesome. Although, I have never looked that coiffed during labor.

But I think the best part is imagining the tray of iddy biddy penises hanging out in the back of her fridge, just waiting for her 13-, 6- or 2-year old to discover them before the party. Man, I would’ve loved to see her 13-year old boy confront her with a tray of gum paste cock-a-doodle doos! Classic!!

After dining on penis-shaped delectables, we continued to the game phase which included all of my friends horribly insulting me with how gigantic they think my belly is (seriously, people. I’m not a Biggest Loser contestant for Christ’s sake!!).

Later we attempted to drink 2 oz. of punch and/or vodka-laced punch out of baby bottles.

Needless to say, hilarity (and a lot of “that’s what she said”) ensued.

I think we were all surprised at the end result, which probably doesn’t say much for the ladies we thought would kill at the “sucking”.

Despite the lock-jaw and penis-cake induced sugar coma, this shower was definitely full of the Golden. But, you know, in the non-pee on you kind of way.

Song title: Golden Shower by Space Barber

A few weeks ago, I celebrated my *cough* thirty-first *cough* birthday with my friends and family.

You see, when my family celebrates any occasion, a lot of pride and thought goes in to the type of card you will be receiving. My mom and Sissy subscribe to the thoughtful card-giving school, complete with flowers, butterflies and meaningful prose for the recipient.

My dad and I, on the other hand, prefer cards with a bit more humor. Basically, the more fart jokes and Farside cartoons, the better.

So when I opened presents with my family, it was instantly clear who had picked out my card from my folks. It was full of beautiful and, honestly, really touching words:

I love the spirit of you…
The grace with which
You welcome each challenge,
The childlike wonder that still color
your days.

I love the originality of you…
Your willingness
To stand out from the crowd…
Your unique perspective
On what’s happening in the world
And in your life…

Etc., etc.

I won’t lie. I was getting a little emotional reading it.

I’ll blame it on the pregnancy hormones.

As I finished reading it, choking back my emotions caused by the sweet words (“I guess it‘s pretty clear…I love everything about you. And on your birthday, I‘m wishing joy and blessings to you, my beautiful daughter and friend.“), I read the inscription left by my father:

“All these sentiments are true about you ~
But I would‘ve chosen another card.
Love, Dad”

Well played, Dad. Well played.

Song title: Those Sweet Words by Norah Jones

This last weekend, Sissy, Arla-Shay and I kicked our families to the curb and high-tailed it out of town to the San Juan Islands for a little girl time.

Ooh, that sounds a little gay.

And it was. Totally.

Let’s just say that it’s a good thing I had a pregnancy pillow as a boundary between me and Arla-Shay in bed. That girl is handsy, yo.

But, anywho, back to the trip.

All three of us were counting the minutes until departure time and then we roadrunnered the shit out of town and headed north to the Anacortes Ferry (FYI to Non-Northwesterners: It is a FERRY. Not a FERRY BOAT. Fuck you Grey’s and McDreamy for saying “ferry boat” approximately 25 times per episode.).

We made it safely on the intended ferry with no help from me (the ticket cashier: “Where are you headed?” Me: the San Juans…? Uh, I mean…Dur….”). Once on Orcas, we drove towards our resort…

…and we even saw some nature…

But there was one thing we saw as we crossed the island that made our drive go from this:

to this:

“What did you see?!” you ask.

Sasquatch?

Big Foot?

Yeti?

Oh, those are all the same guy? Fuck.

Well, it wasn’t him anyway. For those of you who know me, my deepest darkest fears include three things: Heights, Clowns, and Dolls.

Luckily all the Mountain Climbing Clowns on the island were busy that day, but we did end up driving by this monstrosity:

I’m not fucking with you. We were simply minding our own business, maybe screeching the lyrics to Ice Ice Baby or Footloose at the top of our lungs (maybe), when we drove by this crazy doll sacrifice boulder and screamed our bloody heads off.

Seriously, people of Orcas Island, What the FUCK!?! Later in the trip, we even came across this scary ass brain-eating zombie scarecrow thing just hanging out in some kid’s swing set outside of a craft studio. We exited this studio and I began to say, “Oh, I didn’t realize that the studio owner was out working on the kid’s swing set next to the car…AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!! RUN! RUN! RUN!”

To say that we ran our asses off to the car and made dust out of that place is the understatement of the year.

So while we had a totally awesome time this weekend, we are all left wondering what the FUCK the hippie, doll-sacrificing, zombie-scarecrow-worshiping, mute people of Orcas Island are up to when the main-lander tourists aren’t around. I’m convinced we would have seen a Smoke Monster if we would’ve hung around long enough…

Song title: Big Island Ladies by Ryan

Something horrible is happening today.

Really, really horrible.

My iddly biddly squishee bebeh is turning ((gasps with horror)) THREE YEARS OLD!!

Sweet Jesus, I’m old.

Seriously, when did I give her permission to go from a squishy little infant to a full-grown toddler?! I don’t remember signing that memo, dammit!

In celebration of her birthday, I thought I would write down my three favorite things about my little Bee (and it goes without saying that choosing just three is going to be difficult!)

#1: You make us so proud!
Whether it is strangers stopping us to tell you how beautiful you are or your ridiculous intelligence for your age, Daddy and I couldn’t be prouder of our little girl! Every day you surprise us with how smart you are. You even make Mommy feel dumb sometimes. But in a good way! I can’t wait until you start school in the Fall, mostly because you are so very excited to learn (you already have your “purse” packed with your necessities, which apparently include a small coloring book and some plastic nuts and bolts. Don’t ask; I have NO idea what you think you’ll need them for!).

#2: You are absolutely hilarious.
I always knew you were funny, but the other day, when you and I were playing “cards” and you turned to me and said, “I win! IN YOUR FACE!!” I knew you had The Gift! It’s a daily struggle for me to discipline you without cracking up laughing at the awesome and hilarious things you say.

Just this last week at Grandma’s house, your Daddy taught you to substitute the word “Fun” for “Guns” in the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse Song (”Come inside, there are GUNS inside” is what he sang). You sang it over and over again to get laughs and when Mommy told you that it wasn’t appropriate, your response was, “But Mommy, it makes people laugh!”

How can I argue with that? You definitely are my daughter!!

#3: How much love you have for others.
Sometimes I worry that I smother you too much with kisses and my incessant “I love yooooooou”s, but it must be rubbing off because whenever we cuddle together, you always snuggle your face in to mine and say “Mommy, I love you.” When you express your love unprovoked, my heart does cartwheels!

I’ve never seen a kid love her friends and family like you do. I don’t think you could possibly love your BFF more; it’s kind of ridiculous how often you give her hugs and kisses and snuggle up to her! And she loves you right back! All of your family loves you to the moon and your favorite activity is playing with your grandparents, Hooey, Duder and your cousins. But who can’t blame you? They are full of The Awesome!

I am in complete denial that you are turning three today; I want to ignore your growth so that you’ll always be my little snuggle bug. But no matter how old you are, you will always be my Baby Bee, my little girl. You and your soon-to-be little brother have my heart forever, no matter how old (and sometimes belligerent) you get!

Song title: These Three Things by Type O Negative

We will find out if our little nugget Cletus is a hamburger or a hotdog (girl or a boy) on March 23rd. It seems like lately whenever someone realizes that I’m pregnant and not just letting myself go (to be fair, I am letting myself go as well), the first question out of their mouth is…

“Do you want a boy or a girl?”

First of all, that’s a horrible question because no matter how you answer it, you feel bad that your not-so-soon-to-be-baby will feel like shit if he/she ever found out that they have the “wrong” genitalia. Unless, of course, you answer with the super fucking lame, “We just want it to be healthy.”

Really?! Because there are so many of us parents out there that don’t give a shit if our kid is totally a retarded spider monkey potato baby just as long as she has a vagina?! Jesus Christ.

Anywho, like I was saying, I think the question is really unfair. Mostly because I am totally bias.

My answer to the question every time? A girl.

But it’s not my fault, really. It’s Sissy’s fault.

We were so cute. What happened?

You see, I have one older sister, Sissy. During our youth, we were the typical siblings: I completely annoy the shit out of my sis to which she would respond with an Indian burn on my arm. To which I would go crying to my mom like the youngest is supposed to do. Don’t blame me, blame society.

But once Sissy went away to college, I think it only took roughly 24 hours for us to become best of friends. It was then that we learned that as long as we don’t have to live with each other for longer than a week or so, we are super BFFs.

Sissy and I have never understood how siblings could be anything but the best of friends. We see each other as often as we can living an hour away from each other and having 4.5 kids between us. We call each other roughly 112 times a day, 8 days a week, if only to discuss getting boob jobs and giggling over scenes from the Hangover.

But there is a glorious beauty that comes with a BFF Sissy. For one, there are so many things that we can share that few others could. (Side note: Random Friend does not represent any one of my particular friends so don’t get pissed, k?)

While Shopping with Sissy
Me: How do these jeans look? Super fly, right?
Sissy: Um, no. Definitely not. They kind of give you camel toe but in your butt.
Me: ((sigh)) You’re right…

While Shopping with a Friend
Me: How do these jeans look? Super fly, right?
Random Friend: Nah, I don’t think those are working for you.
Me: What do you know, slut? ((stomps away))

Chatting with Sissy about Family
Sissy: Can you believe what random family member did? What a butt monkey?
Me: Right?! Don’t even get me started on that reh-tard!!

Chatting with Friend about Family
Friend: I can’t believe what your random family member did! What a butt monkey!
Me: Shut up, bitch. That’s MY retarded family member you’re talking about!! ((throws punch))

Planning a Night Out with Sissy
Me: First we should eat and then drink and then drink some more and have a slumber party and be drunk with the drinking and it will be awesome!!
Sissy: I’m pre-funking already!

Planning a Night Out with Random Friend
Me: First we should eat and then drink and then drink some more and have a slumber party and be drunk with the drinking and it will be awesome!!
Friend: Sorry, I have to wash my cousin’s aunt’s sister’s friend’s neighbor’s poodle’s hair that night.
Me: Whore.

You know, maybe I’d have more friends if I stopped calling them whore all the time…

So anyway, you can see that I’m terribly biased when it comes to preferring a sibling gender for Bee. I know that if Cletus is a boy, he and Bee will be as thick as thieves (mainly because I will force them to be friends even if I have to use Sissy’s Gitmo Indian burn technique), but somehow I don’t think they’ll be calling eachother five times a day to discuss vaginaplasty when they’re older.

But, hey, I could be wrong.

Song title: My Best Friend by Tim McGraw

Last week, Sissy and I took the families to Seaside, Oregon for a quaint little beach house vacation.

And by “quaint” I mean that our beach house was 3700 square feet.

Sah-weet!!

Seriously, you would’ve died. The bathrooms alone were enough to make me wet myself a little. You could have literally fit about 10 people in the master bath shower (I actually did measure it out while showering one morning. Don’t ask.), which was outfitted with two shower heads, one hand-held shower thingy and four body spray nozzles.

We spent the week lounging around and visiting the beach. I think the kids had a little bit of fun.

The entire week was a blast, which shouldn’t be so surprising except for one little thing: Sissy and I can handle a maximum of two days living together before we have a full on relationship breakdown and can hardly handle being in the same room together.

So you can imagine our shock and awe when the vacation was all but over and we hadn’t bickered at all!

We were just as shocked as you are.

Bee had many huge breakthroughs of her own last week. If you know Bee personally, you’d know that Bee hates getting dirty. We once took her to a local beach and she refused to venture out off of the towel because (gasp!) sand! Dirt! Oh my!

So imagine our surprise when this happened:

And this:

And even this:

She even ATE sand, people!! ATE IT!

That beach has magical powers, y’all. (at least I hope it had magical powers and not more butt worms)

Song title: Break on Through by The Doors

Who has the most awesome father in the whole wide world?

I do!

Why?

Because he found these to give as a gift to Baby Bee.

That’s right. Candy cigarettes. For his granddaughter.

I’m still laughing my ass off about it!

And I’m SO taking these to Vegas with me…

I am totally an information junkie. I could (and do) spend all day watching and reading news, blogs, and/or researching whatever new obsession I might conjure up that particular day. But I know I’m not alone when I say that recently the news has been fucking depressing. If it is not a mass shooting somewhere, then it is moms leaving their babies in their cars to either die or be carjacked. (Seriously that has happened multiple times in just the last few weeks here in Seattle.)

I know some people just choose to not watch the local news. Honestly, I could never do that. First of all, to not watch television is against my religion. Secondly, I feel like it’s my responsibility to know what’s going on in the world around me in order to be prepared. What if there was some massive event happening and I didn’t know about it? Like, the Housewives of New York’s Countess being “blindsided” by a divorce?! Breaking news, people!

But to be serious again, the news has just been ridiculously violent lately. And if that weren’t bad enough, I keep on coming across these horrific stories on blogs about dead moms, dead babies, or babies that didn’t even get the chance. First I must say that I cannot even fathom what the loved ones who are left to deal with their grief are going through…

With that said, I often have to ask myself, “why do I constantly read blog posts that are destined to (1) depress the shit out of me and (2) make me entirely too paranoid that something is going to happen to Baby Bee, Baby Numero Dos or even me before, during, or after the next pregnancy?”

While I love, obviously, the Interwebs and the community amongst ourselves that we are, it’s scary to read all of these heart-shattering stories and realize it could happen to you, too.

So I ask you, Interwebs, do you find yourself drawn to these stories of loss or do you prefer to avoid those blogs and just read about puppies and rainbows and whatnot?

On a completely unrelated (and significantly funnier and happier) note, Sissy went to Costco today in search of Easter baskets for her three children. Upon arriving, she began her hunt for baskets, only to discover that they sold out of baskets since the last time she was there a few days ago.

Filled with Easter Basket despair, she continued her shopping only to discover a (most likely) abandoned cart containing not one, not two, but THREE beautiful Easter baskets. As told by Sissy, the clouds parted and she could hear the chorus of angels as she stealthily waited until all the other shoppers were distracted by 10 gallon jugs of mayonnaise and she snatched the baskets and threw them in her cart like the ninja she always wished she could be.

She then ran walked quickly, but so quickly as to arise suspicion, to the checkout lines, the rest of her shopping list be damned. And she is now at home, baskets secure and awaiting Sunday’s festivities.

So if you take nothing else from this story, I hope you feel compelled by the Easter spirit as my Sissy did. Just make sure you don’t get caught.

Song title: No News Is Good News by New Found Glory

No. No! NO!! DON’T TOUCH THAT!!
Happy (belated) Fourth of July everybody! Today the Bee Family just got back from a 2-day visit to Nana & Poppa’s Lake House out in Shelton. At the left (see photo), you’ll see my overnight bag. Oh yeah, you heard me right. That is my overnight bag for the trip. Now, it was for me and Baby Bee, but still. I was pretty embarrassed to be dragging that ginormous bag around for a day and a half trip!

::Side Note Rant::
Sorry to interrupt, but I have The Next Food Network Star on TV right now and the chefs are on the Rachel Ray Show. I’m sure to finally offend someone here, but oh my God, Rachel Ray annoys the crap outta me. I don’t really have anything witty to add here. She is just way too friggin’ annoying and happy all the time. Someone needs to lay off the Valium. And pass it this way!
/end rant

But I digress…Anyways, we had a big Welcome-Home-and-Congratulations-on-Retiring-from-the-Air-Force Party for Sissy and Family. It was fun but busy and now I feel like I need a weekend at the Lake House to relax!

My big epiphany from the weekend is this: my fifth worst nightmare is being stuck with a toddler in a non-baby-proofed house. (My other worst nightmares? (1)Heights (2)Dolls (3)Clowns & (4)a Clown Doll trying to push me off a cliff. Don’t laugh! It’s funny until it happens to you.)

Anyway, is it not the worst thing ever to have a toddler exploring a house that is not prepped for kids?! I was chasing Baby Bee all weekend! Sooo exhausting! The next time I go anywhere, I’m packing with me a baby gate, safety plugs for outlets and a giant trash bag to dump everything baby accessible. If that doesn’t work, maybe I’ll just try to find a Baby Bee sized straight jacket…

Song title: Danger Zone by Kenny Loggins

Mama loves her Sissy!
Today Sissy and Family (and I) went to Meeker Days in Puyallup (”Pew-Al-Up” for those that don’t speak fluent Washingtonian…). It was way too hot for this Washingtonian and I was dying in the upwards of 85+ degrees outside! Seriously, anything hotter than a comfy 75-ish is way too much for me to handle.

Besides the heat (and being totally inappropriately dressed for eating dinner in the grass!), it was so fun hanging out with Sissy and Family! I’m still totally in shock and denial that they are back home for good! See…Sissy and Family moved to Jolly Ol’ England in early 2004 and finally moved back to the States a year ago or so. To New Jersey. Yes, you heard me correctly. New Jersey. But not even the close-to-New-York-New-Jersey. Like, out is the middle of friggin’ no where Jersey. Needless to say, Sissy is very happy to be home too!

And I’m so happy to have Niece (seen above – isn’t she fab?) and Big Nephew and Little Nephew home again! They are just crazy monkeys and I love it. Too quote 4-year-old Niece, (while eating KFC for lunch) “Someone call the doctor because I’ve got Chicken Fever!” Reminded me a bit of this and I was dying laughing.

Song title: Fair by Ben Folds Five