Bionic Mamas

you're not losing a vagina, you're gaining a son


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She’s Learning

From time to time, I chide Sugar for not having much in the way of the gift of the gab. It’s unfair of me. After all, she’s Polish. Our ancestors may have had in common their unrelenting diet of cabbage and potatoes, but while my Irish forbears were spending their winters thinking of something suave to say to the girl next door (and starving), hers were busy staying out of the way of commuting armies (and starving).

But let it not be said that I withhold credit where it is due.

Last night, while I was performing my evening ablutions in the bathroom, Sugar made a remark from the other room to the effect that the wedding had been a stressful experience. (Stressful? Why, all of our parents were here to help! And we got to organize every little thing they did!)

“Excuse me,” I reminded her, “That was the HAPPIEST DAY OF YOUR LIFE.”

A pause.

“No,” she replied, and I waited to pounce. “Being married to you is so much better.”

My wife: I think I’ll keep her.


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Waiting

Hello, internet. I’m feeling a bit blue today. No good reason, except that summer is winding down and the writing projects I’ve been supposed to finish remain undone. By the same token, I’m blue because summer is not done yet, and I’m impatient to start TTC in September. I’ve made the big decision, so how come I’m not pregnant yet? Baby, get in my belly! (I’m going to be a real picnic during that 2WW business, no doubt.)

Ages ago, the very marvelous Musings of A Fat Chick was kind enough to tag me for a wee meme, Six Silly Things. At the time, I was feeling too blue to think of anything, but I’m going to make an effort to pull myself up by my boob-straps and cheer the heck up. It’s a beautiful day, I have a cookie sheet of perfect biscuits cooling on the stove, and Sugar and I are going to have a picnic in the park. There is no call for gloom!

Without further ado, here are the rules:

* Mention and link to the person who tagged you
* List Six Silly Things That Make You Happy
* Tag six of your favorite bloggers to play along

1. My very serious cat:

What?

2. Making inanimate objects talk, puppet-style. I enjoy it more if the object in question is resolutely un-puppet-like, say, a salt shaker or a coat hanger. (This is why we have a house full of junk. Every time Sugar tries to throw something out, I make it talk to her. I am going to be so good at mother-guilt!)

3. Sneaking up to and petting the night toads that hang out near the beach on Fire Island.

Night Toad of Pine Walk

4. Nicknames. I rarely get them, maybe in part because my real name is uncommon in my generation, and I cherish the ones I do have. I also LOVE making up new ones for Sugar, but I’m sure she’ll do me grievous injury if I share the best ones here. Most aren’t…conventionally complimentary, though they aren’t conventionally insulting, either. Maybe she’ll tell you one if you ask nicely…but I doubt it.

5. Clothing that seems “circus-y” to me. Or piratical. Or both. Big stripes, big dots, overblown fishnets, black and white, bright red, fancy shoes and mismatched parasols. Japanese silk haori bound with an obi, tiered skirt, t-strap high heels, hair bound up in ribboned braids like Frida Kahlo. That kind of thing.

6. The soulful stuffed animals Sugar makes when she’s feeling crafty

Sweater Bird and Monocle Pod Are Friends

7. Breaking the rules.

Speaking of breaking the rules, I’m not nearly bold enough today to tag individual bloggers, who could ignore my tag (entirely unlike how I’ve been ignoring Musing’s) and prove my worst ideas about the world and my place in it all too true. So how about this: if you’re reading this, and you have a blog, be tagged. If you put a link in the comments, I’ll come check it out and love up on you for doing it. I can put you in my blogroll, if you want, too.

xoxo,
Bionic


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On Dedication

Stop what you’re doing. I don’t care what it is; this is too important. Stop it. (Oh, not you, sir. You just keep at that transplant surgery and come back when you’ve sutured.)

Go to (New! Improved!) Musings of a Fat Chick and read this post, now. If you’re in the kind of office where you shouldn’t be laughing out loud, take appropriate precautions. Close your door. If you’re in a cubicle, gag yourself.

If you have a story to beat this, please post a link in the comments, because DAMN.